#Unrelated but those backgrounds??? pain

[bluehattedapprentice]

What if before he went to America, Luke somehow travels back in time 3 years, the day before he meets his mentor Professor Layton with all the memories of what happens after?

Introducing my timeloop au! where Luke is stuck going back in time 3 years the day he was to go over to America several times and promptly tries to "fix" things that had gone wrong originally. Unfortunately for him fixing one problem leads to others being formed and after a mistake gone wrong on his 5th loop- Luke decides it's time to put an end to it once and for all.

[agustdiv1ne]

𖤐⋆°·.3:13 a.m. (m) — choi beomgyu

genre: smսt (mdni! ageless blogs dni!!), vampire boyfriend!beomgyu, fem!human!reader, mc gets her period, oral (f receiving), bloodplay (ig), i would say i'm sorry but i'm not <3

wc: 3.2k

beomgyu awakes to the smell of blood flooding his nostrils.

bleary eyes snap open as he shakes himself from his suspended state of consciousness, only for him to squint at the glaring crimson numbers of the alarm clock sitting upon the nightstand. it's terribly early. early enough that the stars still glitter against the sable background of the sky outside, early enough that this particular bedroom of his manor remains bathed in darkness. the dimness of the room, however, proves to be no issue for beomgyu's enhanced sight; he watches as your chest rises and falls in steady succession, your sleeping form blissfully unaware of his current predicament. 

oh god, it's you. the blood is yours. the sweet, saliva-inducing perfume of the crimson ichor overwhelms your typically clean, subtle scent; and yet according to his keen senses, the aroma is richer this time, somehow. more potent — he has not smelt anything as addicting in decades. it makes it all the easier for him to want to give into the primal urge to absolutely devour you, to feed and feed and fucking feed from your pretty little neck until he’s sated and you’re halfway brainless. with a jerky shake of his head, he pushes those instincts swirling in his chest into a dark corner of his mind. he’d never feed from you without your permission. he’s not like that; no, he’s not like his former coven that would hunt defenseless humans like you for sport, taking turns drinking from the victim’s body until their veins ran dry. no, he is far from being like them. he loves you, and he’d never do anything that could hurt you.

another wave of sweet iron wafts into his nose, and he exhales sharply, sitting up against the headboard. shit, he really should leave. he should run far away until he can no longer smell you, but he remains frozen in place. sitting there, he takes in how you begin to curl in on yourself, your brows furrowing as if you're in pain. the sight snaps him out of his bloodlust-induced daze, blinking hard when you groan and turn away from him on the bed, your arms wrapped around your midsection — cramps. you’re cramping.

blood, cramping…oh, beomgyu realizes, your period must have started.

the two of you are typically more careful than this, tracking your cycle and ensuring that he is far, far away when it inevitably does hit you. perhaps you’ve both become too complacent in your safety measures after being together so long. it’s easy to forget that he could pose a threat to you when he’s never given you a reason to fear him. he is considered a monster by many, yes, but not by you — and that’s all that really matters to him. besides, beomgyu likes to think he could control himself no matter what, especially when it comes to you and your safety; but when he looks down to his hands, he finds that the fabric of the comforter has been torn open due to his unrelenting grip. his eyes squeeze shut. he needs to leave. he needs to leave right now. you’re too tempting, too testing for his natural instincts. run. run far away before he loses control.

rolling over, your head lands on his lap, arms curling around his left leg as you nuzzle your nose into the smooth skin of his thigh. it’s stronger now, that overwhelming scent. he feels like there’s a frog stuck in his throat, ice in his veins — he needs to get out of here. right fucking now. gently, he tries to peel your body from his, but your arms have become vines, curled tightly around his leg, the side of his knee pressed into the valley between your breasts. they curl tighter as he tries to slip his hands beneath them, but he refuses to use the full extent of his strength on you. 

“baby,” he murmurs, nudging your shoulder only to receive no response. he grits his teeth together, he gulps, he tries again. “baby, wake up. you need to let go.”

you let out a sleepy mumble of his name, hooded eyes just beginning to focus as you look up at him. slowly, you take in the stiffness in his posture, his fleeting gaze illuminated by the moonlight. frowning, you set your chin on his thigh, eyes fluttering to a close once again. “what’s going on?”

“i need to leave, darling,” he grits out — he wants to bite you. he can’t bite you. he can’t. he fucking won’t. 

any fatigue remaining in your body drains from your system the moment he utters those words, worry flooding your veins in its wake. you sit up, arms curling around yourself as you lean closer to him, barely registering the pain in your abdomen. his eyes squeeze shut, dark brows furrowing as he shifts away. “why? did something happen? are you in danger—”

how are you so selfless? why, of all things, is the first thing that comes to your mind is his safety? you’re the one that may be in danger here, and he is the reason why you might be. 

you’re on his lap now, hands sliding over the planes of his face and down to cup his jaw. “gyu, c’mon. why do you need to leave?”

his eyes glint red before returning back to normal, razor-sharp fangs elongating before retracting again. his hands remain by his side while he shakes his head, gripping the sheets so cruelly that the threads are on the verge of tearing. now that your legs are parted, he can barely think straight. he needs to taste you, he has to—

“your period just started.”

his voice has lowered to a snarl, resounding from deep within his chest and straight into the pit that has opened up in your stomach. restraint pulls his words taut, hungry, feral — he needs something. he needs blood. you know he’s been depriving himself lately, though you’re unsure why, but now…now feels like the universe is playing a cruel joke on you with this divine timing. at the sound of another feral groan passing from his lips, you freeze. the fingers brushing over his jaw tense up, pressing into his skin ever so slightly, your voice whisper-quiet. breathy, shock coating each word, “oh. oh shit, um. i’m so sorry, i didn’t. i thought i had another week until—”

your attempt at climbing off of his lap proves to worsen the situation. in the blink of an eye, he’s grabbed ahold of your hips, halting your movements. crimson tinges the edges of his irises, fangs poking out from his upper lip as he pants. “don’t move. please don’t move. i don’t want—fuck, i don’t want to hurt you, baby, please.” 

you sit there for a moment, taking in his pained grimace. he’s fighting himself, he’s fighting every single primal instinct within him telling him to pounce, yet his terribly gentle fingers pressing into your hips indicates that he is still in full control. it’s okay, you think. you’d be okay if he fed.

fingers sliding down to his shoulders, you squeeze. “gyu, you need blood. i know you’re hungry, and it’s okay. i don’t mind.” 

in response, he shakes his head. “no, i can’t. i might hurt you, i can’t.”

your lips purse. what could you do? you’re stuck here, in the precarious position, with no clear way out. figure something out, come on. deep breath. in, out. in, out.

suddenly, an idea unearths itself within the walls of your mind, blooms like the moonflowers that so easily captures your attention when you go on walks with your lover. he doesn’t have to feed in the typical way. he could…oh, he could…

“you don’t have to feed from me, baby,” you coo, watching as his eyes flutter open and meet yours. vermillion now, not one speck of brown in sight. with a gentle, encouraging smile, a hand comes up to swipe through his hair. he shivers at the contact, but you can tell he’s still there. he’s still your gyu, hungry or not. in silence, you take the hand that still holds your left hip and guide it down to the apex of your thighs, allowing his fingers to brush over your panty-clad core. “just…taste me from here.”

he inhales sharply at the contact, at your words, wrenching his arm away. his other hand leaves you completely, palms dragging over his face as he attempts to compose himself. every fiber of his being is screaming at him to take the offer, just take the offer and eat you out — you want it, he really wants it… 

“i can’t,” he chokes out from behind his hands. with a sigh, you shift your face closer to his, grabbing his wrists to remove his hands. he lets you, he always lets you. his eyes remain closed this time, but you work with it; you know he can hear your heartbeat and the rustling of your shirt, smell your sweetness, feel the warmth radiating off of your face as you press a peck to his cheek.

“i trust you,” you whisper against the corner of his lips. he whispers out a weak refusal, and you shift against him, just a tiny motion of your hips that causes him to hiss. lower lip wobbling, his hands find your hips once more, eyes silently pleading with you to quit moving before he loses it. as you cup his cheeks, you tilt your head. “i know, baby. i know you don’t want to hurt me — and you won’t, i know you won’t. but don’t you want a taste? it smells good, doesn’t it? there’s nothing stopping you from taking what you need.”

his resolve crumbles before your very eyes as you continue to encourage him. he doesn’t even need to bite you, it’ll be okay, you’ll be safe. it’ll feel good for you too, rid you of your cramps in the process — doesn’t he want to help you feel better? you’ll both feel better if he does this. 

that’s enough for his composure to splinter, cracks forming and spreading like the roots of a tree until it shatters. there’s little holding him back as he flips you onto your back, him towering over you with wide eyes and a parted mouth. pausing, he stares down at you, voice barely louder than a whisper. “tell me to stop.” 

“i don’t want you to,” you murmur back. “take what you need.”

that’s all he needs to hear.

his fangs glint under the moonlight as he swoops in to capture your lips, aggressive, tongue slinking its way past your lips to curl with your own. the kiss itself doesn’t last long, not when one of his fangs slices into your lip, pulling a squeal from you. easily, he tongue locates the wound, laves over it as blood bubbles up to the surface of the flesh. he moans against your mouth at the taste. the sting subsides as the wound closes, and he pulls away. 

“need more,” beomgyu rasps. he’s wide-eyed, on the verge of absolute ruin, but you love seeing him like this. you crave to see him lose control. you are not the glass doll he’s made you out to be. you can take it, you can take him, and he needs to realize that sooner or later — preferably now. 

so you open your legs that have wrapped themselves around his hips, watch as his eyes roll back into his head, and say, “then have more.”

your panties are torn away from your center with ease, and while he can’t technically die, beomgyu thinks that this might just be the nail in his metaphorical coffin. with the barrier of clothes now eliminated, your scent is no longer obstructed, and you smell absolutely fucking divine. his head spins, nose filled with base notes of iron and sugar and a richness that he’s never experienced before. oh. oh fuck, he’s done for. 

sliding down your body until he’s settled between your legs, he holds you open and takes in how blood drips from your fluttering hole. you’re aroused, that much he can tell, and it excites that untamed side of him that he constantly tries to tuck away. it’s out in full force right now, and he doesn’t have it in him to hide it anymore, not when you smell like this, not when your blood is right there for the taking, especially not when you’re inviting him to taste with that sweet little voice of yours, breathy and needy and wanton, pleading for him to touch you. 

and fuck, he can’t take it anymore.

he doesn’t buy time with teasing your thighs like he usually does whenever he eats you out — no, he goes in straight for the kill, tongue licking a strip up your pussy, his groans reverberating against your clit as your saccharine blood hits his taste buds. he doesn’t pull away to comment, but you know just by the way his tongue slips into your hole that he likes what he finds. sometimes, you forget that your lover is no longer human — until these moments in which you are brutally reminded, his tongue extending far into your walls as he gives in to his most desires. you cry out as the muscle curls up against the spongy spot inside you, thighs closing around his head, but not for long; fingers curl under your thighs, spreading you open for him as he removes his tongue from your entrance, beginning to lick your folds, your inner thighs, cleaning up the blood that has found its way there. his tongue does not slowly savor your skin. rather, he laps at you like a starved man, pulling you closer and closer to his face. if he were human, you’d be worried if he could breathe. 

this must be heaven, he thinks, as he returns back to your folds, tongue swirling around your entrance, his nose bumping against your weeping pearl while his tongue explores your walls as deep as his fingers could go. the sensation is far different from fingers, however — hotter, wetter, you can feel his desperation with every lick and drag, the roughness stimulating every single nerve ending it touches. his hands hold your hips up, holding you as close as possible as he shoves his tongue deeper, the tip of his nose now grinding against your clit. 

“g-gyu! fuck, oh my god, gyuuu!” you repeat over and over again, feeling your high approach. the knot in your stomach pulls tighter, and you reach down to rub your clit with sloppy circles. beomgyu growls at this. he knows you’re close, he knows so well, and he wants to get you there. he needs you to experience the nirvana he has reached right now — he needs you right here with him. 

his tongue leaves your hole again, but the aching emptiness is quickly remedied with three fingers filling you to the brim. back arching, you plead for mercy, for him to let you cum, for anything. please, god, you’ll take anything. he finds your bud, suckling it between his lips, moans muffled against your core and the knot pulls tighter and tighter and the fire rushing through your veins grows white hot—

the knot snaps.

“fu-uckkk!” you scream, voice cracking as your vision spots white, pleasure rushing through every crevice of your body, thighs quaking and back arching and hands finding hair and yanking. your body feels like it’s floating, the waves of pure bliss unending as he continues his ministrations, removing his fingers so he can revel in the taste of your sweet, sweet blood that gushes from your hole. unable to come down, you remain in the throes of pleasure even as he flips the both of you over, your thighs now cushioning his head as you sit atop his face.

you gasp at the position, his eyes now glowing a bright scarlet in the darkness as he looks up at you. you’ve never seen such a shade on him, and arousal sparks in your stomach once again. “gyu, what—”

“more, need more,” he grunts out, now tracing your folds with his tongue. your gyu is still there, just…hungrier, frantic for more. 

if he could taste this for the rest of his life, he would never tire.

“gyu, i don’t— ohhh, shit!” your voice pitches up as he begins to lap at your core, little in his mind other than taking and taking until he’s sated and full. your clit aches with overstimulation, your walls quivering with each pass of his eager tongue as he holds you against him. soon enough, your torso collapses into the mattress, sheets curled between your fingers while you whimper, sweat beading across your heated skin. you can’t. you can’t cum again, and you tell him this again and again, yet he doesn’t heed your cries, building you up and making you cum on his tongue again and again until you can’t even think. your words are incoherent, garbled and tearful against the sheets, begging for him to let up.

“baby, baby i can’t,” you sob as you reach what you think is your fifth orgasm. “gyu!”

finally — fucking finally — he lets up, helps you ride out your high before slipping out from between your thighs. helping you onto your back, he holds your face between his palms, a small trace of blood from his fingers staining your cheek. your blood covers the majority of his lower face, smeared across his chin and lips and even a little on the tip of his nose. if you had enough energy to, you would laugh at the sight. 

“gonna go clean up real quick, okay? i’ll be right back,” he murmurs, squeezing your cheeks when you nod. he’s back within mere seconds, irises now back their normal umber and fangs retracted, no longer more animal than human, no traces of your blood on his face anymore.

“you okay?” he asks softly, smiling when you offer a lethargic nod. he climbs over you, sliding his lips over yours, wet, languid kisses exchanged as he slides his hands up and down your sides. “y’did so well for me, darling. thank you for trusting me.”

“told you it would be worth it,” you shoot back, tiredly giggling when his eyes narrow. 

“yeah, yeah, whatever,” he replies, eyes softening around the edges as he drinks you in, every curve and edge — perfect. you are perfect to him. hands slides up to your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “you wanna take a bath, love?”

leaning up, you give him a small peck. “that sounds wonderful.”

as beomgyu gathers you in his arm, commenting how he should just burn these sheets since they’re basically ruined, you find yourself thinking that there’s no one else that you would rather spend the rest of your life with — the rest of eternity with, if he’ll allow it. for now, however, you’ll let him tend to you in the bath, pressing butterfly kisses to your neck from behind as you bask in each other’s presence, the sky outside fading from a deep black into a muted azure. 

for now, this is enough.

masterlist

© to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.

[kaeyachi]

So...I finished the Arlecchino story quest...

Spoilers below!

TW: Mentions of Suicide, Child Experimentation, Child Abuse, and Murder/Death

This is, by far, the best story quest I have ever done!

First of all, CHILDE?! CHILDE ESCAPING HIS PERSONAL AMBULANCE TO SNEZHNAYA JUST TO COME BACK TO FONTAINE TO ASK SKIRK A QUESTION? Bro is so funny, please-

please save him.

Wait, actually, yeah please do save him. Pulcinella and Pantalone are both plotting in the background, and they got Childe involved...

I also loved the children! Look at how terrifying they are! They're my absolute faves!!

Lyney cementing the reason as to why Arlecchino chose him as the next King is wonderful to see as well. For some time, I thought Freminet and Lynette had a shot, even with reading their lore. What I have failed to realize is that Lyney really is the inspiration for all of the people in the House of the Hearth. His frustrated and disappointed spiel about Freminet not trusting him with Clervie struck me to the heart. This is an older brother at work here people!

Also if I had a nickel every time a cryo younger brother hid a dangerous secret from his pyro older brother which got them into an argument once the truth came out, I'd have 2 nickels ✌️ (somehow gave me war flashbacks to a scene that doesn't even exist lmao)

LYNETTE IS THE FUNNIEST SIBLING BTW. SHE'S MY QUEEN FOR THIS.

Clervie! Our dearest! I'm not fully sure what part in her design did it, but she barely looks like an NPC somehow. Like, yes, this is still an NPC base model, but... is it perhaps the hair? And the extra lashes??

Also, her calling Arlecchino "Perrie" made me sob. I wasn't ready to hear nicknames!!

The mention of Snezhnayan auroras also made me sob again as well. You know what? This entire thing made me sob.

Clervie's dread and horror at the thought of her own mother, her unrelenting spirit that kept her going in her fight for her fellow peers freedom despite the abuse that she will receive, and her unfulfilled dreams repeatedly being mentioned throughout this quest was heartbreaking.

I do have to say- the animations they released for Arlecchino helped a lot with the emotions we are supposed to feel for this quest. Not only was that good Advertising and promotion for the Arlecchino banner, it also set up the plot that would have not been well presented ingame had they chose to do that instead.

Crucabena and Clervie part of this quest were not the only ones mentioned in this quest, but also that damn dude that she killed with her heels! I personally like the way they released all those animations because the quest feels more emotional and alive now, and we could follow with the story better than before (and it effectively increased the hype)

Speaking of more alive, the facial expressions have definitely improved! This quest had them utilizing various expressions well, specifically for the playable characters, so, again, this really helped with the feel of the quest.

Additionally, adding a picture to scenes also set the tone really well. It's not that pictures have never been included in quests before, but the way these were framed(?) made it look way better than the ones before.

By the way...is it just me? Or did Paimon's voice somewhat mellow out for this quest? I had recently played some other story and world quests, and Paimon's EN voice is admittedly high-pitched and painful to hear in those, but for this quest, it's as if her voice was toned down (like Mondstadt Paimon, but with current Paimon energy). I'm hoping this was them taking the criticism from past and adjusting their instructions to Paimon's VA accordingly, because I loved Paimon's voice in this quest (that or I'm delulu)

Quick lore tidbits before I go back to gushing about this quest:

1. Arlecchino confirmed not from Fontaine (like I legit thought she may be Khaenri'ahn due to the blood moon thing she has going for her, but it's nice to confirm her non-Fontainian status)

2. Crucabena was the one who had a deal with Dottore on sending members of the HotH to him for experimentation. Anyone who was physically impaired or left alive after a duel to death are automatically sent to him. Clervie has described this as a fate worse than death... Peruere rejected Dottore's partnership offer once she became the next knave. Also, Crucabena used Clervie as an "example" for those who wish to escape, meaning Clervie received the most abuse (which apparently worsened as the years went by). Clervie lost hope sometime along the way and was basically suicidal as well by the time she and Arlecchino had their duel... Her mindset by that time is that the only hope for freedom to her is death. The popular theory of Clervie letting Arlecchino kill her is proven in a horrifying way with this discovery... (yes, she wanted Arlecchino to be the king, but at the same time, she took this situation as a chance to hit 2 birds with 1 stone)

3. Project Stuzha is apparently something highly dangerous, and Pulcinella and Pantalone are trying to get Childe and Arlecchino involved (Childe was told to aide the project by Pulcinella, while Arlecchino says she doesnt want the HotH to be involved in it)

4. Here is me reannouncing that I am in fact taking the L on the Freminet and Crucabena situation. Basically, the timeline is that at age 16, Clervie dies, and we are left with a 1 year time period for a 6 year old Freminet to enter under Crucabena (I'm guessing this is either a retcon or a means to hide the Arlecchino plot by not having them directly say mother in Freminet's character story 4). After that said 1 year, Peruere kills Crucabena and has spent several months in Snezhnaya before reviving the House of the Hearth and adopting Lyney and Lynette (perhaps the children of Crucabena's HotH simply stuck together during that time)

Basically, yes, Arlecchino is in her mid-20s. Not my personal cup of tea, but hey, genshin ages are confusing most days (Ayato is older than her, and Ayaka may actually be older than her as well... ugh I need a moment please... I MAY BE THE SAME AGE AS HER. NO-)

5. Freminet used to also call Lyney "brother". What changed that, I'm not sure (and if I had a nickel...), but the thought of baby Freminet following around big bro Lyney and big sis Lynette makes my heart melt. Freminet actually cried after Lyney basically told him how important Fremi is to him, so whoever made Freminet think otherwise... 😡 they better square up because we ride at dawn

ok back to me gushing

THE BOSS FIGHT? IT WAS SO COOL! It was beautifully animated, and the fact that they added this at the end?

The fear on the traveler's eyes upon realization of what true power Arlecchino held was amazing imo. We canonically cannot defeat Arlecchino in her boss fight! She will be a weekly boss that we can defeat, but in actuality, we really cannot beat the number 4 of the Fatui Harbringers.

We now have actual proof that harbringers 1-4 are not within our capabilities to challenge, and to add to that horror, this is us fighting Arlecchino with Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet. This is also actual proof that we, the traveler, cannot defeat a ton of other characters as well! (were cooked if we never get a power boost and plot armor✌️)

Also let me sneak in this picture:

Cunty as fck. Powerpuff girls energy. They're the Heathers, and we, the traveler, are Veronica.

And finally, the last part of my commentary that cemented this quest as my top 1:

Everything Arlecchino has done for the House of the Hearth, it was all thanks to Clervie and her dreams.

Arlecchino has shaped the HotH into a more honest relationship between her as the father and them as her children. Everything Clervie hated about the old HotH is now nonexistent in this version.

The children could be set free.

Duels are not to death.

They will not be sent to their doom if they lose.

This is everything that Clervie dreamed of, and this is everything Clervie tragically never got to see and experience because she lost all hope.

Clervie's story ended in tragedy, but Peruere lived and breathed Clervie's dreams for her anyway. Seeing the aurora was the start of Peruere finding the goal of living Clervie's dream, and now, Arlecchino strives to do her best to see those dreams come to fruition.

And the qualities that Peruere admired in Clervie are the same qualities that made her want Lyney to become the next king. Hopeful, caring, protective, passionate, and full of conviction. Lyney will take the mantle and live and breathe for Clervie's and Peruere's dreams someday.

Honestly, I have more to say, but I think this is a good place to stop for now. The dynamics of all these characters have made this experience worthwhile, and I hope that genshin continues with this sort of style in the future. Here's to more amazing stories from genshin!

Bonus screenshot while we are still here:

[crooked-wasteland]

" We have no obligation to make history. We have no obligation to make art. We have no obligation to make a statement. To make money is our only objective." – Michael Eisner

(And Vivienne Medrano, apparently)

This image was circulating for a brief time here on Tumblr with the explanation of it possibly being a leak of Oops' script. I didn't want to touch on it at the time because it was of dubious origin. At this point, obviously, we know this is not that script. I've seen some comments about it possibly being a rough draft or otherwise somehow legitimate.

The reason I say this is because, regardless of the authenticity, it does feel like the quality of storytelling found in the show. If a scene like this did appear, I don't think it would feel all that out of place within the context of the show. One cannot fault those who did perpetuate the idea, because the concept of it is believable.

However, I have a feeling this is actually the product of ChatGPT.

The writing and dialogue lack depth and nuance. The emotions are shallow while attempting to portray immense pain. It fails to tap into any semblance of humanity. When individuals discuss the hypothetical threat of AI taking over the artistic space and removing the need for human creativity, it comes from a place of lacking that same humanity. Social media and, unfortunately, Fandom have boiled down art to a content farm.

Algorithms mixed with huge communities seeking immediate gratification have dumbed down art into an appealing image one would admire for a few seconds. They press some buttons and immediately keep scrolling, forgetting what they just saw.

Additionally, character illustrations are the easiest image for AI to recreate. The value of fanwork is not about the emotional depth it portrays but how aesthetically appealing the image is and how identifiable the characters are to Canon. Not to say that fanworks can not showcase depth or meaning in their pieces. Only that the piece will overwhelmingly not be appraised for its cultural or metaphysical value. Instead, it will be immediately replaced.

There is an intentionality to what we call "art." How every element of an artwork was specifically designed to portray something. From the minute background details to the colors and the use of value. How the modern home of philosophy is the theater.

And that's the issue with much of the writing of Helluva Boss: The lack of intentionality as the story (or lack thereof) stumbles along. The crew does not make artistic decisions with an eye to how these events affect the future. They cycle through an unending series of unrelated ideas that are not intended to say anything of the characters or world. It is there to simply be funny, make the audience sad, token representation, etc. The idea mirroring J.J.Abrams and his mystery box mentality of monopolizing the attention-based economy through the emotional investment of the moment.

The idea that something that feels straight out of ChatGPT could just as easily be pictured as a scene in an episode shows the utter lack of connectivity to the project and the basic act of being human.

Medrano and her team are not interested in making art. They are prioritizing the consumption of their content over the quality of the artistic work itself. Given the support and platform to say whatever it was she wished to do so, she has chosen to go nowhere and do nothing with these resources. It's one of the keystone reasons I feel the series has lost as much support as it has. When given the option to make history. It isn't about the art, but rather she seeks to make it about herself. Medrano doesn't want to tell a story or make a statement. She just wanted a show.

[cherryrainn]

Hiii could you do a Onceler x femreader with PTSD from abuse + rape <333 I really love your writing and I think you’re super talented!!

━━ ✧ 𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

─ ✩ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ; onceler x reader

─ ✩ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ; thank you so much! hope all is well. this is longer than my other oneshots just because it hits really close to home and i was actually planning a fic that kinda goes like this.

─ ✩ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ; reader has ptsd from rape and abuse, ptsd flashbacks, anxiety and distress, touch sensitivity, mention of self-harm!!!!!

you and onceler were comfortably sprawled out on the couch, surfing through countless tv channels, trying to find something to watch. it was one of those lazy afternoons where neither of you had anything pressing to do, and you figured watching a movie would be a nice way to spend the time.

as onceler fiddled with the remote, his expression grew increasingly exasperated. "i swear, there's never anything good on tv anymore. it's all just commercials and reality shows."

you chuckled, understanding his frustration. "tell me about it."

onceler finally settled on a channel, leaving it to play a random show. he slouched back on the couch and tossed the remote aside. "you know what? let's leave it on this channel for now. we can watch a movie after i grab some marshmallows. sound good?"

you nodded and smiled, appreciating the simple pleasure of his company.

as the channel continued with its ads and programming, you were lost in thought, waiting for onceler to return with the marshmallows. but then, without warning, something on the screen triggered a painful memory from your past.

the images and sounds on the tv became distorted and morphed into something that sent shockwaves of fear and distress through your body. your breathing quickened, and your heart raced as you relived a horrifying moment from your past. the room seemed to close in on you, and the world blurred into a painful, nightmarish haze.

you clutched your chest and tried to fight back the overwhelming emotions. But the memories were relentless, gripping you in their unrelenting grasp. your hands trembled as the room around you faded into the background, and all that remained were the haunting echoes of the past.

onceler returned with a bowl of popcorn in hand, wearing a grin as he announced, "lorax and the bar-ba-loots devoured all the marshmallows. but i've got a bunch of cho...."

his cheerful words faded into stunned silence as he looked at you. your eyes were wide, as if they were about to pop out of your head, and your entire body trembled. you were breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling rapidly. your hands clutched at your chest, and you seemed trapped in a nightmarish reverie, lost in the haunting memories that had been triggered.

onceler's carefree demeanor disappeared in an instant. he knelt in front of you, his eyes filled with concern and compassion. "hey, are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine worry.

you couldn't answer.

onceler's attempt to comfort you took an unexpected turn. he reached out to touch your shoulder, thinking it would offer reassurance, but you reacted as though his touch were a threat. your eyes grew wide with horror as you watched something that he couldn't see. it was a memory, a phantom from the past, and it filled you with terror.

you shook your head vigorously, your voice trembling as you tried to make him understand. "no, i don't want this. stop!"

onceler's confusion deepened as he continued to touch your shoulder gently. "hey, it's okay. it's me, onceler."

but you couldn't hear his words or feel his touch. in your mind, you were trapped in a nightmare, reliving a moment of excruciating pain, fear, and helplessness. you scratched at your ribcage, trying to escape the torment that felt so real, even though it was nothing but a memory.

onceler's growing realization hit him like a ton of bricks. without hesitation, he lunged for the remote control and turned off the tv, plunging the room into sudden silence.

onceler continued to offer his support, his voice gentle and reassuring. "can you feel your pants, shorts, or whatever you're wearing? they're real. you're safe here, in our home."

you were still trembling, but you nodded, trying to ground yourself in the present moment.

onceler's next question was cautious, "is it okay if i... hold your hand? or do you not wanna have any physical contact right now?"

you didn't hesitate. with an outstretched hand, you silently begged for the comfort of his touch. onceler gently took your hand in his, and you clung to it as if it were your lifeline.

he guided you through deep breaths, counting with you, "inhale… 1, 2, 3, 4. exhale… 1, 2, 3, 4."

slowly but surely, your breathing began to steady. you finally made eye contact with onceler, and it was as if his presence was the anchor you desperately needed.

onceler offered a little piece of chocolate, asking if you could feel it. you took it between your trembling fingers and fiddled with it. it was real. you nodded, your eyes filled with relief.

"it's chocolate, try it."

you put it in your mouth, and as you tasted its familiar flavor, it was a reassuring reminder that you were back in the present, in the safety of your home.

he asked gently, "do you wanna talk about it, or do you need some time?" you immediately shook your head, indicating that you weren't ready to share the painful memories that had resurfaced.

onceler continued to hold your hand, offering a supportive presence as you struggled to reorient yourself in the aftermath of the distressing memories. the room had returned to a comforting silence, with only the faint sounds of your deep breaths breaking through.

as you took a moment to collect yourself, a barrage of negative thoughts flooded your mind. you couldn't shake the feeling that those memories had somehow tainted you, that the darkness from your past had seeped into the present, leaving you feeling rotten and gross.

onceler could sense the shift in your demeanor. his eyes searched yours, filled with concern and empathy. "hey," he whispered, breaking the silence, "you're not alone in this."

the weight of self-doubt pressed down on you, making it difficult to believe his words. you looked away, unable to meet his gaze, as if the shame you felt was etched across your face.

"i... must be disgusting, onceler," you muttered, your voice barely audible. "i'm rotten to the core. how could you even stand to be around me?"

onceler's expression shifted from concern to determination. he gently lifted your chin, making you meet his gaze. "listen to me, y/n. those memories don't define you. whatever you've been through doesn't make you rotten or gross. you're a person, and people are complex. we all carry scars, but that doesn't define your worth."

you shook your head, a tear escaping the corner of your eye. "i don't deserve your kindness. i'm tainted. i don't know how you can even stand to touch me."

onceler's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes unwavering. "don't you ever say that. you're not tainted. and i can touch you because you're a human being who deserves love and support."

he wiped away the tear gently, his touch comforting. "you're not alone in this. we'll face whatever comes together. and i'll keep reminding you of your strength, even when you forget it yourself."

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

I know you've said you don't have many thoughts about Revchi but I just wanted someone to rant to since that's apparently what we're doing now and your takes are indeed excellent (shout-out to Neige anon)

I genuinely think he must carry a lot sadness and trauma, that he closed his heart so much. When Gueldre said that all the other Purple Orcas hated him and that's why no one took his side when he got set up, he didn't even deny it or even react. For some reason he won't allow himself to open up to others even when he had the opportunity to make friends. That's totally unhealthy (honestly, the other Purple Orcas probably couldn't be counted on anyway since from what little we see of them, they're the BC equivalent of dirty cops).

I don't know how to word it but there's something so sad about him. He reminds me a bit of Zora in a way, like they both hide their inner pain with cynicism and snark. How he calls himself "just a wretched thief" in the first chapter, the way he somewhat hides his scar with his hair, even the way his speech bubbles are drawn all wobbly??? Someone get that man into therapy asap please

On an unrelated sidenote you've actually made me appreciate Fuegoleon, believe it or not. I used to not care about him at all but now I like him a lot lol

I mean "not having a lot of thoughts" is always relative too. Like, I ended up writing quite a lot for Revchi in that one ask game, which surprised even me. So it seems I had more thoughts than what I thought, but I still don't think it's comparatively a lot if we take into account other characters.

Plus, now that my exams, and this semester are finally over, I have the next three weeks time to do nothing and sleep. Instead of having my braincells running study stuff in the background on an pinned tab, which might affect how many thoughts I have to spare for the fandom. Also, I like having interactions, even if they might be people feeling frustrated over how unloved their borbo is. (Again, as long as it's like constructive; a mandatory side note, because it's a public blog) I know that everyone doesn't want to interact in the comment section or via reblogs, because they don't want to draw that attention to their blogs, which is fine. But these interactions make me feels less like I'm shouting to the wind, and are evoking my love for the fandom again. And I think that the best way to learn to appreciate and get insight of a character is to talk to someone who likes said character (as long as they haven't like... made the character into pretty much just an oc with the same name, y'know the type and issue generally speaking; it happens in every fandom)

ANYWAYS, back on track and to Revchi

I think there are a lot of characters in BC that do that. Close their emotions because showing emotions isn't... allowed in a lot of circles in BC. Just today in our BC dnd campaign we basically concluded "the Magic Parliament, where justice is scrapped and public image is all that matters; welcome to the heart of Clover Kingdom".

Who knows what happened that caused Revchi to get hated like that, but I'd say that when someone is staged for a crime, there is a good chance that they stood in the way of those who ended up setting said person up. So, it's perfectly possible that Revchi was a "good cop among bad ones" and ended up getting hated and isolated by that, probably along with a lot of other things, that essentially just broke his spirit, and caused him to spiral into a "...if being a wretched thief is what's right in this kingdom, I guess that's what I'll be then" or even "they call me as a wretched thief, so I'll show them one". Which is a kind of a call for help, in a way. The man was spiralling. And when he starts to live up to the rumours, and the reason why he was dismissed, he's not doing any favours for himself, but by then he was beyond caring about it.

Why he won't open up, could be a case of being stabbed in the back, figuratively. So, maybe he trusted someone in that squad, maybe even went to Gueldre, thinking that he could trust a Captain of Clover Kingdom, and Gueldre just threw him to the wolves. I mean... if that doesn't shake your belief into the justice system of Clover, what would?

There is a tragedy in there. He's just a guy who tried to do good (as a headcanon, because all of this is purely speculation ofc), and ended up thrown into the mud.

He doesn't believe in goodness of the world anymore. Or that there can be such a thing as "justice" in Clover. Which is very similar as to what Zora feels. Actually. For Zora it's just about what happened to his dad, and for Revchi it's about what happened to him.

I imagine the wobbly speech bubbles to be a kind of a voice cracking up. Because, deep down, he didn't want to do what he did. But he was in too deep in his own head, the cynicism. Because no one would care. It wasn't the kind of a world where people would care, in his mind. The line between a hardened criminal and a knight was a line drawn in sand on a beach.

Who knows, maybe he even thought that stealing a couple of grimoires and selling them in the black market might earn him the trust of the Orcas again. Revchi just might be yet another character that Clover Kingdom failed.

[galaxietm]

popping on to give some updates!

- updated blog icon to match @peachiiihearts (ily dew) - updated pinned list for june bdays (with the exception of my own, but there's several muses whose bdays i'm excited for, so hopefully i can hop on to do stuff for them) - considering updating blog header?? not sure - trimming down muse list in the background, will probably post what muses i'm dropping soon(ish??) - working on getting muse pages finished so i can share carr.d link, may just share carr.d link without the pages being done. - a few more oc pages are done, others have been started

other general updates below the cut, somewhat unrelated to rp stuff but adjacently related to blog status i guess? feel free to keep scrolling if you'd like! no pressure ♡♡

tl;dr / me attempting to condense it all here. i haven't been around as much due to mental health (probably the second biggest reason) as well as stressing about money-related things; i don't want to bring that energy and such onto here so i've been avoiding it, more or less. i've been working a lot the last two weeks, in part so i can catch up with rent and try to get ahead of that and bills, and i think i'll start to have free time in about a week / week and a half (as my birthday this month comes up, funny enough lol) since i've been all over the place due to work, that's why some of my activity is all over the place. my shifts at work vary from overnights (think 10pm to 6am) to early mornings (around 2am - 7am, 4am - 9am, etc) and sometimes somewhat close to each other- so i really mostly have time to come home, eat, wind down and relax. so if i hop online, it's moments like now (where it's like, 2:30am-ish) for a little bit before one of my early shifts.

have also been dealing with random aches, pains and headaches as well (woke up with a really bad migraine a week ago when i was gonna try to be online / try to write, so that didn't happen) so i've been attempting to self-care while i can, and i'm trying to get up the courage to reach out to a few therapists for consultations so i can finally like. i dunno- try to get that part taken care of since my last therapist didn't work out and it's been a while. i'm also trying to fit in getting new glasses, since i've had my current pair for, uh- way longer than i should have.

but anyway. aside from the stress and still slow recovering from the legal stuff with evicting ex-roomies early this year (as well as avoiding the attempts of updates people have tried to give me about them, because there's people who have been attempting to tell me about them lol) i've been slowly doing better. trying to do what i can to fix up my place and trying to get things in shape on my end. i've been far happier without them here, i can actually relax and like. start to get to know myself and be myself again. it's been?? a little bit bittersweet, honestly. complicated feelings for different reasons, i guess. i had to hide parts of myself because of the first set of roomies, and i didn't get to bring those parts back for a while.

i've been finally watching through some anime on my backlog and i've been resisting the urge to joke about possibly writing dungeon meshi characters or others- but there's a few characters i've picked up (one i'm finally indulging myself on trying to write lol) and a few that that i'm waiting until i finish trimming the muse list until i decide to pick them up- for my own sanity, really. i'm trying to be less attached to them and more 'do i get to write for you aside from saying i'd like to? then bye' about some of them.

but anyway. i hope all of you have been doing well. think of this as a bit of a vent post? i haven't done one of those in a while, haha. it's been an interesting year, but hopefully soon i'll get to be active here again- i really miss writing, so hopefully soon i'll be able to get back on here and just. write and interact with some of ya'll again.

if you'd like to try to keep in touch better, i've got a disc.ord i can exchange with mutuals.

[transthadymacdermot]

how did you get the idea of rrl / flesh it out? i've always wanted to dabble in historical fiction but i never feel that i can come up with a solid plot & complex characters (speaking of, i am so intrigued i cant wait for the day i can read rrl)

In terms of where I got the idea of setting a story during those particular events it was mostly a consequence of the fact that that is the period I've been studying for the past several years, and therefore it's been on my mind a lot + I already had a good amount of background knowledge that definitely made the research for the story less daunting. When it comes to writing historical fiction I would definitely recommend setting it during a period you're already interested in, it makes the research a lot more fun + can make it easier depending on how much you already know about the period.

In terms of where I got the idea for the story... bizarrely enough it can almost entirely be blamed on this AWFUL pulp novel about the PIRA I read in like... may or june. It had a subplot about 2 guys trying to kill each other over a promotion in the IRA hierarchy and it was such an interesting concept but so poorly executed it was physically painful and I had an "I can fix him" moment that combined with the fact that I already wanted to write a story set in 1790s belfast + that I wanted to write something where Rearden and Whittaker, 2 side characters from something I'd written previously, were the main characters and I just went from there. Most of the other characters and subplots developed slowly and came MUCH later. For example, Seamy didn't even exist apart from being the unseen son of 1 of Rearden's United Irish comrades until I was several months into writing it + I created him mostly because I read an interesting History Ireland article about hedge schools that made me want to explore the lives of children at the time more in the story.

Most of the fleshing out of the idea happened in similar ways -- I read something, sometimes something completely unrelated, which got stuck in my head long enough that an idea grew around it and I felt like I needed to use it for something. It was unpredictable and often deeply inexplicable but that's what happened

[granulesofsand]

Hi! Do you think you could speak on the symptoms a programmed system may experience when learning / figuring out about RAMCOA?

We've been doing research recently and each time we do, we find ourselves slowly slipping into religious psychosis and delusions we have to actively fight to keep internal... we aren't too sure if it's a symptom of research because we experienced RAMCOA or something unrelated.

Thank you!

Symptoms of Research

Everyone has different reactions while learning about RAMCOA. Even people who don’t have that trauma sometimes exceed their window of tolerance and have to deal with side effects.

I’ll talk about our experience first, then some things we’ve heard from other survivors.

For Us

We had programs running long before we knew about RAMCOA. I wasn’t personally there for this, but I know there were suicide programs active then, plus a good few constantly running in the background.

When we were first poking around, looking up definitions and just starting to read in depth, it went pretty similarly to plain DID. Information would slip away, then there would be flashbacks and body pains.

As we started to notice similarities, alters none of us knew would show up and complete a singleminded objective, usually related to the flashbacks and pain. We had a lot of new psychotic symptoms projected from those alters, plus some mood disorder and learning disability lookalikes.

In General

Denial is usually a first response, especially if the fronters are unaware that the body lived through whatever they’re looking at. Alters who have been programmed to keep the knowledge locked away will do their task, which can include hallucinations from drug memories or training to mess with sensory intake. Delusions could be beliefs forced onto alters or a manifestation of PTSD.

Common pains are head, throat, and eyes or ears. Some abusers target those areas while enforcing amnesia or don’t talk/don’t tell programming.

Some symptoms do belong to unrelated distress management, because reading about people in pain is not a good time on most folks’ brains. Those that aren’t come from programming, which can be as wild as the programmer can imagine.

Except

Not everyone had the same symptoms. There is no correct way for RAMCOA systems to react to discovering this history. Your psychosis could be part of that, or it could be something else.

Treatment will focus on how your experiences effect you, regardless of whether any of it is unequivocally true. Stabilization is almost always the first step in therapy for survivors, and it’s easier to work on healing while feeling calm and secure.

Give yourselves breaks and check-ins. Unless you have concerns of immediate danger, it doesn’t matter how long it takes to sort things out. Prioritize your well-being.

[robynrocksforbrains]

Okay so, I'm thinking about Will and Henry, and I kinda wanna know what other people think about this.

I know a lot of people say that Will and Henry are foils. But I was reading about foils and mirrors, and I realized that Henry is a foil as well as a mirror for Will.

I'm gonna quote a few articles, and then explain what I think

"almost certainly share personality traits, values, similar skill sets, and possibly even goals and likely a narrative arc. They may have the same or similar background... If they have none of the same backstory at all, their similarities will be significant for coming about regardless of their environment."

"the similarities serve to highlight something important about the characters and their story"

"While a Mirror is seen as the literary opposite of a Foil, in truth the tropes often overlap and a character's Foil and Mirror can be the same character."

"The characters in each pair reflect one another’s similarities while contrasting their differences in approaching those similarities. "

"In the classic story of Good vs. Evil, the hero and villain play the other's foil, in that each acts to show how the other behaves in certain situations. But virtually any story with multiple characters can use contrast to show greater depths to them; two persons do not have to be on opposite ends of the moral spectrum to be foils."

"On the darker side, this trope can also be used to lampshade the fact that our hero is really just a hair's breadth away from villainy. In these specific cases, it's almost always the villain who is the first to notice"

"Closely related to Foil, which is a literary term that describes a character who highlights and accentuates the traits of another character by contrast, and Mirror Character, which describes characters highlighted by similarities. However, in these cases, lampshading isn't required."

My thoughts:

I think that Henry is both. And I'm sure I'm not the only person that thinks that, but this is my first time really truly thinking about it.

I think that in s4 he acts as more of a mirror than a foil. If mirrors are characters highlighted by similarities, s4 Will and Henry are mirrors. I mean, in s4, they were shoving Henry's similarities to Will in our faces. So much so that a lot of people walked away from s4 thinking that it foreshadowed Will's villain arc. And while I never believed that, I couldn't necessarily blame people for thinking it. Because they were screaming at us that these characters are extremely similar. And a lot of people think that must mean Will is destined to make the same choices Henry made. But that's not the purpose of a mirror. From what I understand, the purpose of a mirror is to show that these characters may be similar, but those similarities don't mean they have to make the same choices. Henry was angry at the world when he was a kid, so he killed his mother and his sister (because that'll fix things!!). Will is angry at the world (he's severely traumatized and gay in the 80s, of course he's angry at the world) but he doesn't take that out on anyone. In fact he is incredibly loving and caring and kind and gentle. He chooses love because it makes coping with the pain and anger easier.

I think in s5 we'll get to see more of Henry acting as Will's foil, while Will perceives him as a mirror, because of his distorted view of himself (when you're different, sometimes you feel like a mistake") until someone else (likely Mike considering "you make [me] feel like [I'm] not a mistake at all") calls bullshit on that. I think Will's arc in s5 will require him to identify their differences and develop a better understanding of himself.

I know Will would never choose evil. But does Will know that? I know Henry and Will are not truly the same. But does Will know that?

So, yeah I think Henry is a mirror foil, but I think s4 focused more on the mirror part, and s5 Will focus more on the foil part.

Does that make sense?

[llamagirl28]

Would you be open to potentially including RO/character portraits in-game one day? It'd be lovely to see the characters rendered in some kind of artistic style, although leaving it somewhat to our imagination is nice too, with the written details. I know Arthur and Morgana would be pretty hard to do this for due to all the combinations of skin tone, eye colour and hair types present.

This is unrelated but do you have any heraldry/coat of arms for the houses in BOC thought up? I think the Leudonus heraldry was described somewhere in the patreon demo? Not totally sure. Either way it'd be cool to possibly see those in-game too.

(sorry if this isn't the place to give suggestions haha)

Arthur and Morgana - and even Gareth, cause he is supposed to look a little bit like Morgana even if he mostly resembles Lot - are impossible to make. It's not just the combinations of hair color/type and eyes and skintone - it's the features, which are left vague for players to imagine. I describe how they come across, how they behave, the expressions they make - Morgana's cruel or sweet smiles, her frowns and angry eyes, her placid mask of calm, Arthur's timid smiles or pained faces etc - but features are left up to player's imagination so that they may match Mordred's.

I'd love at some point to commission artwork for other characters tho. Not sure if I'll include it in game, but I'd like to be something to share with the players.

What I do want to include in game, tho, is a map of the Continent, and perhaps the heraldries too! I'm still working on both of these, but I did play around once in Canva when I was bored, so I kinda have an idea of what I want for some coats of arms.

Yeah so the Leudonus heraldry has a moss green background with the image of a bear - bears in general are associated with the family.

Snakes for Le Fay.

Swans for Beauregard (Elaine's family)

Dragons for Pendragon

Stag for Meier (Isac's family)

Tulips for Hendrik (Guinevere's family; might change)

I think those are all that I have so far.

[kiwiana-writes]

3, 8, and 18 for the meta writer asks! And I hope the rest of your day goes better than the too-early morning. 💕

[Fun meta asks for writers]

Ugh, sadly it did not. Zooms that could have been emails, and all of that. ❤️

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

Ooooh this is an interesting question because I write so much short slice of life stuff that I do often just throw that stuff out there as little, like, mini ficlets! I have been sitting on a great joke my spouse made while watching the film where I was like "god I need to write that into a fic" but I just recently figured out what I was doing with that one, so now it's in the WIPs.

8. Is what you like to write the same as what you like to read?

Yes, but there's also stuff I like to read that I don't like to write (looking at you, anything that requires serious world-building.)

18. Do any of your stories have alternative versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations?) Tell us about them.

At some point after it's finished publishing we should talk about the outline @ships-to-sail wrote for the Actor AU, because it was really good and when I decided the structure of the fic needed to match Much Ado About Nothing I ended up gutting a ton of it. Luckily she loves me (allegedly)

But for now let's talk about something totally unrelated: the Schitt's Creek 50 First Dates AU and the plotline I lowkey accidentally abandoned (that shit had no outline and no plan other than, like, the film and the show) and always meant to come back to in one of the alternate POV one-shots but never quite got around to. Totally set it up and then ditched it, whoops. But basically, Ronnie was part of the volunteer rescue team that found David and Alexis after the car accident, so she was WILDLY protective of David and deeply fucking suspicious of Patrick.

I went and looked because I was sure I'd scribbled a bit of this down and I'd actually written like 500 words of Alexis' POV! So have those below the cut:

Alexis’ head hurts.

That, in and of itself, isn’t weird. Between hangovers and jet lag and being knocked on the back of the head while being kidnapped — a totally amateur move, and a sign that her kidnappers really weren’t investing properly in their henchmen — she’s more than used to waking up with a throbbing pain in her temple. What is weird is that those days are behind her. No more taking the jet to Europe because she’s bored, no more trips to the embassy to pick up a new passport and a disguise so she can get across the border. So she doesn’t know—

“Alexis?”

The voice is vaguely familiar, but she doesn’t want to open her eyes yet, sure that when she does the full ache is going to turn into something much more immediately uncomfortable. 

There’s a sharp rapping sound, far too close to her ear, and she winces. 

“Shit, I think she’s waking up. Alexis? Come on, open those eyes for me. You can do it.”

In the distant background, she can hear sirens, and her eyes fly open in shock. 

“There you are, princess.” Despite the usual sarcastic drawl, when Alexis turns to face the window, Ronnie’s expression is full of concern. “Ambulance is nearly here. Think if we get this door open, you’re up for getting out, or do you want to wait for them?”

“David.” It’s all coming back now — the trip to Elmdale, fighting over the music, the cow. “Where’s David?” She turns to the passenger seat, ignoring the way it makes her ears ring, ignoring the pain radiating up her left arm. Her brother is slumped motionless in his seat, the window on his side of the car shattered and half the door crumpled in. There’s a huge gash across his forehead and wildly, irrationally, Alexis’ first thought is: He’s going to be so mad he can’t do his skincare routine. 

“Alexis, listen to me.” She doesn’t realise until Ronnie’s voice cuts through the fog that she’s sobbing his name, and she sucks in a shuddering breath. “We don’t wanna move him until the ambulance gets here, in case he’s injured his neck or his spine. What about you? What hurts?”

“Um.” She closes her eyes, trying to concentrate on anything other than the panic clawing its way up her throat. David is so still. “Just my wrist, I think. And a headache.”

“I think you might have whacked it on the steering wheel.” Ronnie’s eyes flick up to her forehead for a moment. “You’ve got a bit of a shiner, but I think we’re okay to get you out.”

It takes Ronnie and a man she doesn’t recognise — Elm County volunteer firefighters, they tell her cheerfully — to get the driver side door of the Lincoln open. By the time Alexis is standing on the side of the road, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and her now throbbing wrist tucked carefully against her body, she can see the ambulance tearing down the road towards them. 

She won’t let any of them look at her until David is safely out of the car. Ronnie stands next to her the first hole time, her hand on Alexis’ shoulder far more gentle than Alexis could have guessed it would be, while they cut open the car door and strap up his neck before manoeuvring him onto a stretcher. 

[chequerootlurks]

Let’s talk about reboots for a moment. Let’s not look at background for the reboots, or their creators. I’m going to point out a good, and a bad.

This show deserves more recognition:

There were a variety of ethnicities, body types, sexual orientations (including asexual!), neurodivergence, and gender identities.

Those were all secondary to the plot! The biggest thing was the characters were PEOPLE!, not vessels for “wokeness.”

Meanwhile, this show (“Velma”) that I watched three episodes of tonight — “bad TV night” is a thing in our house — is as painful as everyone says.

[article and a 12ft ladder to get past the paywall]

“Velma” feels like “Family Guy,” only if “Family Guy” tried to be over-the-top woke instead of offensive.

It has the same, unrelenting brash humour that prefers to browbeat the audience, rather than understate. As such, it’s not funny, nor clever. The characters’ pointed political speeches would be funny if they were done on rare occasion. Instead, almost every other discussion is something overdone. Wayyy to try hard.

In terms of ‘wokeness’ “Sonic Boom” did it better.

“Velma��� ironically pushes the division between gender, race, and sexual orientation.

In episode three, we see the women fight to be “The Least Weak,” or a phase summat like that. Physical brawling. The show -could!- have raised up and pointed out how women should support each other rather than fight each other… but I guess we’re not ready for “women fight -for!- other women” speech here.

I guess “wokeness” for this show is limited to meta humour, PSA type monologues, and eye-rolling diatribes. It limited its wokeness to convenience and already heavily discussed issues.

I might also add Velma is an unlikeable character. She’s mean spirited, really quite a bully in her own right. Proof that you don’t need to be “popular” to be a selfish jerk.

She reminds me of Rick Sanchez, or Bojack Horseman.

Granted, I love those shows, but the supporting cast was always ready to call Rick and Bojack out on their toxic and destructive behaviors.

The show seems to ignore the importance of having balancing support. People who call out Velma for being as much the villain as anyone else encountered this far.

Norville (Shaggy) is hopelessly in love with Velma, he lets her abuse his friendship.

At the end of Episode 3, Daphne calls Velma out on a few things, but I have a feeling that won’t cause an overall change in Velma’s behavior. At least not for a while. Maybe there’s a “growth” arc planned.

If not? Ouch.

Also, I’m kinda tired of the “white male as the jerk” trope.

Yes, white males have a leg up in society, especially if they’re cishet… but there ARE! cishet white men who are decent people.

The only positive white male character this mud far is biracial Norville’s dad… and he’s not even a main character.

Making one skin-type/gender the bad guy doesn’t make a show “woke.”

All in all, “Velma” misses the mark.

I don’t know what it’s trying to do, but it’s bad at it.

I am curious about the mystery, but I’ll just read the end online. I don’t care enough to watch it.

[gemini-sensei]

Hey! I'm thinking about writing for Cobra Kai, any tips?

I dont know if I can give any specific tips for Cobra Kai writing except keep character motivations in mind. A lot of the characters actions come from their motivations and why they care so much. This is especially true when it comes to Hawk, Tory, and Sam. They're all motivated by certain things and even when it comes to events unrelated to those motivations, it's still the reason they choose to act a certain way.

I feel like it's pretty easy to understand Hawk and Tory's motivations throughout the show, so I'll use Sam as an example (and because I feel like her actions are misinterpreted at times).

Sam is a caring and kind girl who gets involved in a fight she never had to be apart of, but chose to be because her friends and people important to her were involved. She also strives to be independent but hasn't quite reached that. She's motivated by family and eventually pain and anger. So a lot of the actions she takes stem from trying to not only protect herself but her friends and family.

Motives are a big part of character and it's important to keep those in mind.

Character backgrounds are important too.

When it comes to characters like Eli, Demetri, and Moon, we don't know a lot about them but based off of context clues and how they act, assuming some things is never a bad thing. In my head, Eli and Demetri live upper middle class lives while Yasmine and Moon who live the high life.

Then there's Robby, Tory, and Miguel who are lower middle class, lower class, or straight up homeless 😐 living like this impacts how a person acts (ei if they've save up money, how they spend money, where they shop, if they'll eat out or not) and even how they may act around others.

When I write Robby, I don't write him buying Reader much of anything because he doesn't have a lot of money and if he did, I doubt he'd want to waste on something he's not even 100% sure they'll like. Or on flowers that will due at some point. He'd likely rather use it to get them something he knows they're going to Luke or something they can do together, or save it for a rainy day or a special something later on down the line.

So yeah 😅 that's my advice, just keep character motives and backgrounds in mind. When Hawk's an asshole, it's because people have hurt him before. Demetri and Sam have good intentions, but something act based off of their immediate feelings. Tory is tough, but she's not Wonder Woman.

If there's something else, a more specific question you have, feel free to send it in. I'll give my best answer, haha.

Overall, though, this is how I see things, how I see my own writing. I highly suggest exploring writing these characters in any way you like because no matter what, you'll find your style and what you like 💖

[mourning-again-in-america]

if i were to change my preferred name again, "Winter" wouldn't be bad, at least soundwise with my last name, and I'm kind of fond of the season, even though I don't prefer it--which is part of why I like it

I was struggling with a quandary for a while, of how can I can escape the constant daily pains of life, these things which I disprefer, but are forced on me; and this caused me to lose interest in deep intellectual thought for a while in California, due to the unrelenting pains of roommates and loneliness and part of what led me to yet again seek escapism in substances.

I thought it was going to get better when I moved to Chicago, but I lost my job, and an unsteady ambitious relationship was destroyed, and I just let myself slip into the background of life, and it seems like of those close to me, nobody really knew how I was feeling because there weren't any opportunities I could see and my relationships were frayed enough that it was hard for me to naturally, casually create those opportunities when I was already so stressed

And I drifted, as I did in California, the very thing that I hated having done, and I justified it to myself the very same way--and I drifted off, dangerously--and a couple quick events started to snap me out of them. And in the wintertime, when this was happening, the first winter I'd felt since Boston, helped me feel just how quickly time was passing and while I couldn't further squeeze juice out of the day without making the month more consistent, I still needed to get better, because otherwise time is passing and everything decays.

And I was walking in the winter to a concert with @kata4a and it was good--but all the walking and the talking and the cold and the trying to be polite and the occasional muscle pains and the heat and so many bodies to track and try to not interfere with--all of it was painful, more painful than the total good of it, maybe, depending on how think about it, and then shouldn't I therefore not have done it? But, no, I had proof, the best kind of proof, proof by experience, and it was good. I knew it viscerally, the best way of knowing something. And it's the kind of knowing that you have to think of with winter.

Winter is honest--if you have a good plan, if you properly prepare, if you execute well--you will be safe. You will not always be safe, in the simple way that you are always in danger from the natural; but over time, knowledge about how to be safe has accreted, and today I know I am safe, and tomorrow I think I will be as well. And because of this, today I can plan to make sure that I'll keep being safe, and more likely to have preferable experiences the days after, even if today I'm too tired and in pain from doing what needs doing to clear up time tomorrow.

[seeingteacupsindragons]

Do you have any tips for taking care of yourself and your mental health when writing about difficult subject matter? Recently, I've felt the need to delve into some very personal and topics in my writing, something I've never had the courage to do before. It's been helpful both for my writing and for myself as it's helping me work through a lot of things, but at the same time it can be really painful and vulnerable.

Taking care of myself is probably not my strong suit, Anon, but let's see what we can both do to be better about this, huh?

I know in the past I've had to step away from some topics in fiction, both reading and writing, because I wasn't ready to process things that way or they were cutting in a way that wasn't helpful. Fortunately, it seems like you're past that and ready to process! It's good to know that.

I generally have to keep low expectations for myself on days I have therapy or on days that I'm writing something emotionally tough for me. My word count will be lower and slower and that's fine because I'm doing something very hard, and I'm liable to get prickly outside of those contexts, so it's sometimes better for me to withdraw and keep myself from making too many decisions when I'm hurting.

It might also be helpful to keep something else that's much lighter for you to keep engaged in. Something you can write and feel silly about, and something you can read or watch. Reading even silly and unrelated stuff can be really helpful in processing difficult things because your brain can work through it in the background while you have devoted all your actual conscious effort to these silly problems that have nothing at all to do with anything you have problems with and will never have problems with. Let's worry about Blorbo's problems instead!

So, distractions, yeah, can be helpful.

Basically, I think you need to treat yourself gently and understand you gave yourself an emotional workout and so you can emotionally rest at other times. And if you have something irl emotionally exhausting coming up, maybe put off the writing so you can prepare yourself.

I hope this helps, Anon!