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mirrorcatcreditcard · 3 months ago

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Take I haven't seen in the fandom yet:

Luka doesn't want to be freed.

"Now, MirrorCatCreditcard," you may say, "that's nonsense. Any human would want freedom from that system."

If you're thinking I'm gonna convince you that Luka doesn't know he wants freedom yet, you're wrong. I'm here to talk about indoctrination/conditioning, grooming/emotional manipulation, my own experience with those topics, and how all of the above connects with Luka as a character. If a deep dive like this is too much for you, please tap out for your own sake.

Luka's life was planned before he even existed. There has never ever been an alternative option. There is no life for Luka as anything but what Herperu chose. Everything in his life has been planned to have him be the perfect pet human idol. That is what he must be.

Fandom, I don't think most of you actually understand this and have dissected what this means (shout-out to the Luka stans who are getting there/have guessed similar things). These words we know have alternatives and are not set in stone are Luka's "gravity makes rain fall to the earth" and "water makes things wet." They are facts so deeply ingrained within him that even if shown the contrary he remarks that the person showing them is just disillusioned.

Take his commentary on Mizi and Hyun-A in the art book. He looks down on Mizi for not being able to control any of her emotions. How does he talk about Hyun-A? He has her at 70% affection yet shows a patronizing attitude—she's the one in denial at reality.

Now, how did we get here? How is a human so "delusional" and set in the control?

He's been conditioned.

Some of you don't know what I mean by this from experience and/or research, and count yourself fortunate that you don't. I pray you never experience such things firsthand. Don't worry about ignorance. Familiar or not, I will explain.

When you are surrounded by only one truth and reality, that is the way you interpret life. If a parent tells a child "the moon goes to sleep during the day," until the child learns otherwise, that's what they believe. Now take that child-like belief and add some toxic environments to the mix. With time, any other kid would learn that the earth rotates from their peers or adults around them. But if the creatures around them all say and believe the same thing "the moon goes to sleep during the day," then that is what the child continues to believe. Years of that same thing being the only truth make that false knowledge into a fact in the person's head, and everything that supports that fact is taken as truth or on the right path to truth.

"This is kinda silly though," you guys are no doubt murmuring, "All of this is a hypothetical. Give us something that makes sense or that someone could actually see happen in our society."

I'll give you my own experience then. My parents taught me that God is real. My parents taught me that I will be damned I do not follow the commandments of the scriptures. I didn't need to worry though. As long as I was obedient to the God who loved me and wanted what was best, I would be saved despite being born an awful sinful human. I was homeschooled, only interacted with people of similar beliefs, and taught that people too different from me in ideology or with radical beliefs against my own were trying to harm me and my family. I believed the people who raised me because why would people who love me lie to me? My task was simple. I needed to obey God and love everyone, especially them. Love meant giving up my entire being and living only as servant and sacrifice. After all, being selfless to the utmost was the greatest form of love.

Let's go back to Luka. His guardian, Herperu, when questioned about any surprises while training Luka, stated not only that he was the one who endured the "tough moments" but also that "(Luka) owes his success to me, and naturally, he should be grateful." This sentiment is echoed by Luka in his interview (shown on Patreon). My god, it's giving parents with disabled kids who brag on social media about how much trouble their kid is and how much they do for them. Sickening. This shows exactly what environment Luka has lived in though.

When you are manipulated into having something as your reality, everything else is fiction and delusion.

Let's review what exactly is Luka's reality.

Heperu is the one suffering if Luka has any difficulties being obedient.

Gratitude is what Herperu is owed because he goes through so much trouble to make Luka a star.

Love/care is shown by owning another's autonomy.

Emotions and bodily reactions exist, sure, but someone should be able to control them; and if they can't, someone should control those reactions for them.

Segyein are superior and the good ones for dealing with humans. Humans must be disciplined and shaped to how an segyein wants it to act to be considered deserving of this goodness.

(Luka)'s perfection is defined by his guardian.

Luka's life is directly connected to being the perfect performer. His guardian praises his abilities with the statement that no other pet human will ever be as perfect as him yet leaves an underlying threat saying that it will be no good if a pet is not trained properly. This has probably been mentally (if not physically) beaten into Luka's mind: his greatness doesn't stop him from being able to be disposed of. The human instinct to want to live has been explained to him as Heperu's wish for him to live and that has been further distorted as a duty to live for the stage he has been placed on.

Luka believes fully that there is a debt in play here. In his interview, he mentions repaying love. He thinks the relationship between fan and idol is completely normal, encouraged, and healthy. Performance is the most important thing. Being where he is is a privilege.

There's a chain here:

Heperu indoctrinated Luka into believing what he says is all true.

The guardian manipulated him easily to do what he wanted with his body and mind.

The years have been spent constantly conditioning Luka to be the god who encapsulated fantasies for the audience.

He is continually being groomed to exist for the entertainment and enjoyment of segyein.

Circle back to my first point of this post. Luka does not want to be freed. He doesn't know what freedom actually is. He sees freedom as either foolish denials of reality (and doesn't consider that actual freedom) or as controlling the song and stage when he performs (something he learned from Hyuna). He cannot want something he cannot understand. He cannot want freedom in the sense the fandom keeps speaking about.

It's funny. From the moment Luka was revealed to be hated by the fandom, I wanted to know why. Instead of digging and finding horrific deeds, I instead found a character who portrayed my own traumas and experiences. I instantly attached and delved deeply into learning about this thirty year old singer. Why does he express himself in a certain way? Where do we first see mention of him? Who does he have emotions towards? How was he trained? What makes Luka himself? I have past essays/replies to other's theories if you're interested, but in this one I got personal and didn't sugarcoat the facts. If the fandom can't handle deep thought, we shouldn't be discussing this incredibly profound and depth-filled web series.

As always, thank you for your time, and I hope my thoughts allowed you to open your mind to new things. Mostly, I hope you enjoyed them 🫶

#alnst #alien stage #alnst luka #alien stage luka #luka alnst #luka alien stage #alien stage analysis #alien stage theory #alnst analysis #alnst theory #tw trauma #tw conditioning #tw manipulation #tw abuse #we're dissecting the following triggers btw #in cass you're wondering #take care #mirr's rambles #lukaposting

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emilija04acer · 3 months ago

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Jayvik fics list (pt 1)

(+ some Jayvikmel)

They are soulmates, Your Honor, whether platonic or romantic is irrelevant.

Firstly, here is an essay by isdisorigionale. Yes, they apparently wanted to write about a brotherly relationship. But it doesn't really read like that, in my opinion.

An Aroace Analysis of Jayvik—Not Necessarily Romance, Absolutely Not “Bros”

Their summary>

An essay I wrote in 90 minutes 2 hours after finishing Season 2 Act 3. Notably, those two hours were spent screaming to my friends on how fucking generational that Jayvik was.

Or: They obviously didn't need to make them make out to show how much they love each other, but I’m also pissed at how apparently this is being called a bromance like ?????

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Now onto the fanfics >

Green is my thoughts on the fics.

Those are shorter fics that I read...After the finale, fanfiction is helping me cope. I'll make a separate list with older and longer fics.

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You're Dreaming by Skullsz_Writes

Viktor & Jayce are researching in the library, but Jayce falls asleep...

Short and sweet fic about Viktor crushing on Jayce in season 1

An Epilogue by GwenEani

In the countryside of Demacia two men arrive one day, no one knows anything about them, no one even knows their names for certain. But they know one thing: they are partners and are here to stay.

What if Jayce and Viktor didn't die in each other's arms but were teleported away and were living domestic lives? There are a lot of these here, and rightfully so. They deserve some happiness.

to rot and ruin by ember360

The first words Viktor says to Jayce are immortalised on Jayce's wrist. The first words Jayce says to Viktor... are not what he thinks.

Soulmate AU for these two was a need. I love Soul Mark fanfictions.

Fortune Kooky by setbet

“And you end up with… a beard!” she exclaimed pointing at Jayce’s face.

Viktor rolled his eyes while Jayce looked on, amazed at her prophecy.

“And then…” she turned her gaze to Viktor. “You turn into a robot!” cried out the fortune teller, falling back in fear. “A terrifying robot bent on taking over the world!”

“Eh, sounds fake,” said Viktor.

“Viktor, don't be rude!” said Jayce, but starting to feel a bit doubtful at this point.

A fic about two academy boys visiting a completely accurate fortune teller.

Universal Constants. by Azurita25

“Yes, well… there is also the idea of constants, no? Universal constants. Gravity is always present, the Earth always spins around the sun–”

“And we always end up doing laundry together?”

“I do not think the laundry is the part that’s important,” Viktor stressed.

“So what is?” Jayce replied, making Viktor laugh, shake his head.

“You are.”

--Or, a glimpse into all the universes where Jayce and Viktor find each other.

wrong bedroom by a1sher

“Wait a minute, this isn’t my bedroom.” Viktor and Jayce tries to break into Heimerdinger’s lab only to end up in Viktor’s bedroom;)

What if Mel accepted Vik's excuse?

…And They Were Roommates! by draconabraxas

Mel Medarda never thought she’d go on a date with a taken man; homewrecking was beneath a woman of her standing.

In her defense, nobody in their circle seemed to know if Jayce and Viktor were together, either. So, how was she supposed to know?

Miscomunication and more miscomunication! Mel isn't a sidepeace!

Why Love Songs Exist by Slither

"All these timelines at our fingertips." Viktor pauses. He smirks in such a way that Jayce knows he has a silly idea. "It would be funny if I were a worm in an alternate universe," he says.

"I think you would be a cute worm," says Jayce—his Jayce—without hesitation, and then he shrugs. "I would put you in the best garden I could find and feed you the freshest fruits," he adds casually.

Giopara is silently mouthing the phrase "what the fuck" behind them, as Viktor's mouth falls open. "Oh."

Oh, he says, as if that did not remind him of everything Jayce revealed before they sacrificed their souls to contain the Arcane. Oh, that he was beautiful. Oh, that he was...

Desired?

Or Jayce basically confessed his love, but the specifics remained unclear to Viktor.

Kiss me like one of your Zaun Boys by setbet

“They’re making out in the lab.”

“Yeah, they do that a lot.”

“But they’re not boyfriends?”

“We don’t talk about it.”

The first time Viktor kissed Jayce, it was a quick peck on the cheek, followed by a casual conversation. The next time it's on the lips, but then it's back to talk about formulas. Jayce concludes it must be a cultural thing, and also starts to kiss Viktor back. Everybody else is confused.

A story of two friends kissing each other, who are definitely not boyfriends.

only you by babybirb

Jayce and Viktor don't quite cease to exist. Instead, they are side by side in each breath, in each droplet of blood, in each wave of sound and light. What seems to be the end, is only the beginning for them. And together, they pave their way forth.

An ethereal alternate after-ending to Jayce and Viktor and the love they hold for each other. With it, they exist within all possibilities.

not to me, not if it's you by brewstersbru

They were supposed to die, then, a better ending than Viktor expected. Far sweeter than he deserved. Jayce’s hand warm and broad against his neck, foreheads tipped together, breaths fanning over skin. It was neat. It was nice.

And then he woke up, splayed in a field, draped in the tatters of Jayce’s blanket. A groan rose from his left, then some pitiful shuffling before a final, loud thump, accompanied by a slight warble.

perfect imperfections by bbgghost

In his dying moments, Jayce revisits some important moments he has shared with Viktor. And makes some new memories along the way.

i knew you in another life (you had that same look in your eyes) by coefemi

Jayce shakes his head. “You don’t need to thank me. I’d do it for you. I’d do anything.” He sounds so earnest too, and Viktor believes him. He is safe with this boy, he decides. Jayce’s smile makes him feel like he can eat the world raw, and Viktor wants to hold onto it forever.

When Viktor and Jayce's foreheads touch, all the infinite what-could-have-beens spill through their minds.

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2x7 AU\No Hextech AU

I'd love to see more of this AU and will also write fanfiction about it.

Quiet Resonance by Qakk281

Jayce rarely wakes up before Viktor, but on the rare mornings he does, he savors every second.

After the events of Act 3, Jayce and Viktor found themselves in a different timeline, where Hextech doesn't exist.

what could've been, would've been (what should've been you) by ghostlyecho

They got married in this universe.

Jayce grabs Viktor’s left hand, examining it. He looks at his own.

Twin rings adorn their fingers, Viktor’s golden, Jayce’s silver, both holding a fragment of blue crystal in the middle.

They’re married. They vowed their life to the other, they promised themselves to one another, they actually acted upon the deep-rooted emotions that coursed through the garden that was their relationship, that stubborn weed called love, that always came back no matter how many times you plucked it.

What if it was Jayce who got to see his life in an alternate universe

What Could Have Been by TheUnknownGoose

When Jayce woke up he nearly leaped out of bed when he realized bed? Why am I in bed? His heart was pounding against his rib cage as he looked around. He was in a bedroom, not his though.

Or Jayce sees what could have been if one thing had gone differently.

In Every Universe, It's You by AniresNevil

In an Alternate Universe, a young scientist Jayce loses his hopes and dreams when an explosion in his studyroom takes a life of an young girl. Dean's assistant Viktor still seems to find him in every lifetime, and together they accomplish something once again with the power of their partnership. And maybe with something more.

What happened to Jayce and Viktor in the Universe where Ekko traveled to in season 2?

Both arms cradle you now by Alexthestarlover

They're meant to be. In every timeline of any universe, throughout all the endless possibilities of actions and worlds. Their souls are intertwined. But is it possible that they're together in death too?

there was something about you, but now i cant remember by DipitinPuddinggg

He held out a hand for a shake, "I'm Jayce."

At the edges of his mind, a familiar voice echoed through the walls of his skull. A voice that was the same but also not. A face that was so familiar, but too smooth at this point in time, not yet marred by years of labour and hardship that not even the strongest person in Runeterra could survive on his own.

"I don't even know your name."

Viktor smiled and shook it, "Viktor."

After getting sucked into the rune, Jayce and Viktor get transported to a different timeline without the memories of their previous life. Except, some things start seeping in.

you'll never shine if you don't glow by hexcorehomos

Viktor woke up, his fact was hot, sweat dripping down it. Where was he?

He looked around, it looked like Piltover. He slowly tried to get up, still confused. He should be dead, he exploded with the Arcane. That's when he figured out that his leg was back to normal. He groaned, falling face down into the grass. He wondered if Jayce was here too, oh, Jayce. What would Viktor do without him?

He saw a few people pass, but he got the courage to speak up when he saw familiar blue hair, almost like Jinx's. "Uh, miss.." he got her attention, turning towards him.

"Hello, sir?" she responded. She had gorgeous blue eyes. "I need- I need help. My cane is gone, and I cant walk without it." he lied, desperate for help.

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The Poly relationship>

Radical Violence Theory by begaydocrimes10001

When Mel Medarda realizes that she's completely ignored Viktor's potential as a scientist, as an academic, she quickly seeks to remedy that. He may not be Jayce Talis, but he has his own brain, and he seems to be far more useful than most think. She's a practical woman, after all- it would be useful to have another genius on her side.

And when she realizes Viktor is also in love with Jayce Talis, and Jayce loves them both? She's still practical, after all-- she sees an opportunity.

(Or, Mel and Viktor are more similar than one might think. That applies to who they love, but it applies to how they love too.)

Mel and Vik are platonic in this one, and I love it. Sadly, the positive interaction between them in Cannon is non-existent.

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Explicit> (some are 2x8 specific)

Wild Like a March hare by crow_brain

Wild are the glimpses of their life, hot coals burning the soles of their feet. They dance like animals, trying to close the gap between.

(Or the body worship Viktor's always should've gotten)

Cosmic Coitus by Wink_Wonk_Wank_Wenk

Now that there’s nothing but space around them, they can do whatever they want.

Inevitable Change by magisterpavus

Viktor isn’t the same when he comes back.

Jayce is determined to make it work anyway.

convince you by spectacularorange

after being rejected once, viktor must find a way to convince jayce to join him.

2x8

Partners. by lw192

Taking place during the fight scene in the councilor's room, Jayce and Viktor reconcile and realize just how much they need each other.

(Jayce and Viktor fuck on the councilor's table.)

Can I hold you? (Even if its just pretend?) by Issavandra

“My partner died in this room,” he ground out.

“Do I seem dead to you Jayce?” Viktor asked. Jayce could feel him moving closer, he swore he felt something brush his nose. “I have never been more alive.”

A cool, metallic finger passed over his bottom lip in a featherlight touch. It felt almost reverent. “Do you want me to show you just how alive I am?”

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Pt 2is here>

https://www.tumblr.com/emilija04acer/768620668211331072/jayvik-fics-list-pt2?source=share

Pt 3 (new fics)>

https://www.tumblr.com/emilija04acer/769136252271362048/jayvik-list-pt3

#arcane #arcane fanfic #jayvik #jayvik fanfic #fanfic list #jayvikmel #arcane jayce #arcane viktor #arcane mel #league of legends #i can’t fucking believe they find each other in every timeline #Bromance??? It was supposed to be a bromance?

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pavosnoctua · 7 months ago

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hunt

minors do not interact, ageless blogs do not interact

for @goxjo's Into the Omegaverse event!

cw: yandere, manipulation, abuse of power, non-con, afab!reader but very little pronouns used, pet names (princess, love, darling, honey), imbalanced power dynamics, stalking, general fucked up relationships, A/B/O, Alpha!Diluc, Omega!Reader, knotting, i did some very mild worldbuilding for this idek man, forced breeding, heat cycles, drugging, dacryphilia, unrealistic sex slight choking, some physical violence, modern day AU, extremely unhealthy “relationship”. I do not condone beliefs nor behaviors Diluc exhibits in this. not sfw

VERY DD:DNE

summary: You are an Omega with large dreams, and you proudly tell Diluc that you want to change the world. Diluc, however, has different ideas for you.

if i am missing a warning, please let me know!

When he first met you, it felt like an instant connection - like you two belong together. Or better, like you belonged to him. Diluc had never felt this way before about anyone - every Omega he had come across never so much received his attention that rumors had started to circulate about him, that perhaps his father had lied when he was born and he was simply a Beta masquerading as an Alpha. And Diluc had begun wondering the same himself, even with his baser instincts, he had no pull towards any Omega.

But your scent was sweet when you graced his office with a kind smile and an earnestness that dug at him. You were just a fresh faced journalist, such a pure thing - untouched, chatty, but not nervous. You'd told him that you wanted to change the world for the better, so that Omegas could live a life without an Alpha at their side and without having to get an Alpha's permission to simply live and exist.

That's cute is what he'd think to himself in the beginning.

"You have big dreams then." Is what he said out loud and you smiled a bit, but it wasn't as bright at first. He said the wrong thing. Diluc swallows. Somehow, Omegas are difficult to talk to - more sensitive, more emotional. "I mean - it's not that I don't -"

"It's not that you don't support it, but Omegas are at a disadvantage." You complete the sentence for him - speaking the words he did not want to say out of fear of offending you. "Silly Alpha, change doesn't happen overnight but it'll happen. Watch me." You talk to him as if he's an old friend and not some millionaire you were tasked to interview.

You are a challenge. And Diluc realizes he loves challenges.

He'd looked you up - Kaeya called it stalking, he calls it research. Somehow, he had managed to pull your number from somewhere, considered texting you - calling you, something before realizing that maybe his adoptive brother was onto something with such a strong word. It could put you off if he did, so instead, he goes the alternative route.

He emails you, asking if you'd be up for brunch or dinner. Something, anything, to get that sweet scent back. Anything to see that bright eyed look, the grin on your face, hear the challenge in your voice. Diluc hungers.

Much to his surprise, you'd accepted and chose a place. It's your favorite, is what you'd said in your email, where you'd attached a little smiley face. You might not like it, Mr. Ragnivindr, it's not one of those rich places.

That's okay, he tells himself and you. He can try anything just once.

The food here is greasy and gross to him but it goes well and you tease him for thinking about the idea of brunch - you're not rich like him, brunch is a rich person's thing. And Diluc accepts your little teasing jabs before realizing that the sweet scent isn't there, or well, it is but it's very much subdued. You're on suppressants and that bothers him.

If you were his Omega, he would not allow for such a thing.

Diluc swallows that thought, forces a smile and engages in conversation with you. You have many interests, many activities you like to engage in that you shouldn't, in his opinion. You're a delicate Omega, you shouldn't be rock climbing. Your soft hands should not feel such a coarseness. You boast about being able to drink your Alpha friend under the table and that's unbecoming of a proper Omega.

Each and every date after that gives him glimpses into your life - you do struggle paycheck to paycheck. But that never seems to deter you from anything. He could take care of you, if you were his.

If you were his.

You could be his.

(Planning has always been an expertise of his. He is a very patient man.)

And here you are - disoriented, tired, and oh so pliable.

"Good morning." You stare at him with exhaustion in your pretty eyes, your soft lips parted to talk but no words come out. "I'm sorry you're likely not feeling very good. I think you drank a lot last night."

You swallow - he watches the lump in your throat bob and all Diluc can think about is biting that neck. Marking you as his in ways that just cannot be undone. He hungers, how he hungers.

"Wh-what?" You groan as you sit up, rubbing your forehead. "I don't remember going out last night. I had - I had a report to write."

"You do not need to worry about such things." Diluc tells you, and the look on your face tells him that you're not that stupid, but you are confused. "Not while you're here." That seems to pacify the worry that must be running through your mind, and he does feel some modicum of guilt as he watches you collapse back on the bed. Your chest slowly rises and falls. You're prettier like this, he thinks. Asleep, vulnerable.

When you wake up again, it's late afternoon and you're panicked. Your footsteps pad hurriedly in the hallway, until you find him in his office, hunched over some paperwork. At least you have some ability to feel shame, with your expression and your head ducked down.

"Thank you for helping me, Mr. Ragnivindr. But I need to get going now."

Diluc looks at you. "Why not stay for lunch? You have yet to eat today." He can't have you go hungry, not when he's going to have you round with his pups. "

“I appreciate it but I have to go.” You tell him, the slight sense of fear hitting you in a way you never thought. “Seriously, thank you.”

“Stay.” He orders as if you were a dog, the command making you feel mildly annoyed. “Lunch will be ready soon. At least accept that.”

You draw in a breath and consider your hunger. Accepting help is a difficult thing.

Since you are going to be his, he will make sure you eat the best meals, have the best anything and everything you could ever want.

After an awkward lunch, where you don’t say much, Diluc humors you. You go to leave but the doors are locked from the inside and he has the key. There is a sick sense of satisfaction when you come to him, confused and worried.

You rally against him for a while - swearing, screaming, cursing. Behaviors he dislikes, behaviors an Omega should not exhibit. At first, he drugs your dinners - pacifies you well enough to make you sleep and stop screaming so much. The room he keeps you in, after you tried to escape by convincing one of the maids to let you out, is much nicer than that small apartment you had. Much better furnished too, so much so you can build a nest with anything you’d need. Blankets, stuffed animals, pillows - whatever you’d like.

All Diluc does is sit and accept it - calmly responding to your outbursts, not rising in the same heated fashion. It upsets you more.

One day, you do speak to him in a calmer manner - softer, maybe defeated.

“Diluc.” Your scent is sweet, it fills the air and he swallows. “I-I need my-”

“No,” he tells, firmly and watches you deflate. “My Omega does not need such a thing, you have me.” You shake your head.

“I’m not your Omega.” You argue. “You’re delusional.” Diluc sighs and leaves you be. He has other things to do at the moment, that don’t require arguing with someone so childish.

Your heat hits you a few days after - your pride does not allow you to deal with it nor ask him for help. But you’re miserable - hot, needy, maybe a bit nauseated. He stayed out the first day, accepting your demands for him to stay away from you. The second day had pillows thrown at him, shouting at him to leave you alone. You’d built your nest and it is a sacred place, but he ignores it.

“Let me help you.”

“All you do is hurt.” You respond and he clicks his tongue. Terrible choice of words. “Go away.”

He ignores you as he gently kisses you - you hit your fists against his chest but they’re too weak and don’t hurt. Diluc continues to kiss you everywhere, your eyes, your cheeks, your mouth, your neck - everywhere and anywhere and you still flail against him.

“I’m trying to help you.” He breathes, pulling away. “Please, let me help you, love. You’re such a mess.” He slides his hands underneath your dress, bunching it up as he trails them upwards and you go limp, allowing him to strip you. Diluc knows that every bit of your instinct is telling you to fight against him, but the pheromones he gives off is keeping you still. Or maybe you’ve given up for now.

Once your dress is off, he admires you as if you’re artwork - lovely, beautiful, needy. Diluc kisses the area just above your pelvic bone before ducking down between your legs and giving your slit a long, languid lick. You taste so nice, and the noise you make is like music to his ears. He focuses on your clit, altering between suckling at it and licking at it, carefully and gingerly slipping his fingers inside of you while you’re distracted.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, curling them ever so slightly at times to find that spot that makes you gasp against his mouth and makes your fingers dig into his skin. He is a feral thing, desperate and hungry for more reactions out of you - more cries and mewls as he eats you out as if you were his last meal. There’s a cry from your lips as you come around his fingers, slick and glistening in the light. Diluc brings his fingers up to his lips and sucks on them, watching you with delight as you stare up at him with horror.

“Good girl.” He gently praises and you shake your head, trying to push him away but he easily pins you down with one hand. “We’re not done, princess.” You try to kick him but a slap across the face stills you - and Diluc is frowning down at you with disappointment. A finger strokes the stinging area on your cheek, before lips press against it. “I don’t want to have to do that again. Be good for me, okay? I promise you’ll feel very good.”

You whimper and he smiles - kissing your lips this time, allowing himself to devour for just a moment. Breathless, Diluc pulls away and quickly unbuttons and unbuckles his pants. He has to be inside of you now, his cock aches and your walls are wet and soft and spongy.

He bends one of your legs to your belly, glad you barely resist him now - watching your eyes squeeze shut as he guides his cock to your wet, needy entrance and slowly pushes in. Your hands pull at the blankets beneath you and he hums.

“Good girl, be good. You’ve got this.” His tender praises fall on deaf ears as you let out a cry - his size hurts and he has to force the rest of his cock inside of you. Your hands reach and grab at his shoulders, nails digging in and he groans. You’re so tight, you clench around him with need. For now, he lets you keep your eyes closed as he starts to move.

Every thrust sends a jolt of pleasure through him and it makes you gasp, he kisses your throat, teeth scraping against the tender skin. Diluc desires to mark you up everywhere - just so you remember who you belong to, as he’s definitely not letting you go after this. His pace starts to quicken, pounding into you without a second thought as you cry, wailing everytime he hits a sensitive spot inside of you.

“Look at me, princess.” Diluc rumbles, his voice deep with need. You don’t open your eyes. “I said look at me.” His hand is at your throat, fingers gently pressing against it and your eyes open. “Gonna put my pups in you and you’re gonna love it.” The knot at the base of his penis forms and you whine, coming hard at the feeling. Diluc is gentle as he kisses you, massaging every bruise, whispering tender words as you sob a bit as his cum fills you up. Lips hover above the spot where lovers would bite. And he bites down, pheromones filling the air and you whine. You’re forever bound to him now, and soon, the knot shrinks enough he can pull out. Semen slowly drips out of your used hole and you sob a bit as his fingers shove it back inside of you.

You think he’s done, that’s it but the smile he has tells you otherwise.

“We’ve got all night, my love. Let me prove to you how much I adore you.” At his words, he slams right back inside of you and you moan. There’s something inside of you that slowly realizes that you like this - it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth but you cling to him as he fucks you into the mattress without much regard now, his own rut taking over.

“You’ll be the best Omega in the world,” he groans. “For me, only for me.” He’s releasing inside of you again. “Princess, my sweet, sweet love, you’re so good for me.”

That’s all you can be.

#yandere genshin x you #yandere diluc x you #yandere diluc x y/n #yandere diluc x reader #yandere diluc #yandere x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere x darling #yandere genshin x reader #diluc.txt #mine.txt #a/b/o #alpha diluc #omega reader #yandere genshin imagines #i hope that is everything #lmk if i missed something

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astroboots · 2 years ago

Text

Every You Every Me | Issue #7

COLLABORATED WITH @thirstworldproblemss

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You finally get some answers out of Miguel about who you are to him.

Word count: 5,700 words.

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss' Masterlist

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"So let's take it from the top," you tell him, as you sit down and put down the Trenta-sized caramel flavored hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and chocolate syrup in front of the man named Miguel O'Hara.

The two of you are sitting across from each other at a small booth at the nearest Starbucks you were able to find, seeing as you're homeless now, and there's nowhere else you could think of to go.

He's dressed in a large fitted hoodie that drapes down to his thighs. Where he's managed to find something that is oversized in length on him, you don't know because he's not exactly short.

"I'm from a dimension known as Earth-928," Miguel says.

Before he can continue, you raise one hand, and you can see his right eyebrow twitch unhappily at the interruption.

"Yes?"

"Just to clarify, so we don't have another ‘coffee cake’ misunderstanding. When you say Earth-928, do you mean a different version of the Earth we’re on now? Or is this a habitable planet in another galaxy that happens to be partially named Earth?"

"It's a parallel universe characterized by distinct physical parameters and initial conditions, accounting for the diverse manifestations of our observable universe. So still Earth," he says, sweeping his gaze across the café, nose wrinkling the way one does when there's something off-putting in their vicinity. "Just a little bit less primitive."

Of course he would say that, wouldn't be able to resist the jab would he.

You peer up at him across the table. He is very technical and thorough with his explanations. But as grateful as you are for him finally being willing to answer your questions, you hadn't expected those answers to be quite so information dense. You need to pick your questions more carefully or you are going to have to go down the street to buy yourself a notebook in order to keep up.

"How did you end up on this Earth?" you ask.

"Where I'm from, I'm a scientist, a researcher. One of the things I studied was the theory of physical cosmology and the existence of the multiverse. My work was concentrated on the theoretical ability to navigate between distinct universes within a hypothetical multiverse–”

Ah shit, you should've been more narrow in your question. Should have asked him to simplify it a bit more for you. Because now you're sitting here blinking up at him, pretending you understand half of what he's saying.

It makes sense that he’s STEM. He speaks like the type. Smart as hell with none of the social skills to gauge whether the other person is following the conversation.

Listening to him reminds you of that time in college, when you'd walked into the wrong lecture hall, wound up in advanced chemistry instead of your math class, felt too awkward to leave and just sat there drawing doodles with an attentive expression until the class was over.

And he’s still at it, “– employing advanced mechanisms that manipulate or transcend conventional spacetime frameworks, enabling exploration–"

"Okay, wait, hold on a sec," you interrupt, once it becomes obvious he’s not going to stop any time soon on his own. "Can you... simplify, please?"

He stops mid-sentence, taking a deep breath as he looks up at the ceiling and considers your request, with a serious expression as if he's thinking really hard on it. "I’m a scientist. I study the multiverse. I built a parallel universe traversal device, it allows me to visit different dimensions." Your brain feels insulted that it clearly took more mental effort for him to dumb it down for you than to just give the supergenius version.

“So… a machine that allows you to jump between alternative universes?”

“Yes.”

There’s a pause between you as you run through the questions in your mental list you want to tick off now that he’s turned cooperative and talkative. But with everything that’s happened in the last handful of hours, a lot of the questions you previously had seemed outdated. The one question, the most important one, you’ve wanted to ask from the start though remains.

"Who am I to you?"

Miguel takes the large sized drink in his even larger hands and somehow this big paper cup still manages to look tiny in his grip. "You and I were... involved," he says.

You frown. ‘Involved’ is such a vague term. It belongs in the trash with other useless terms to describe relationships: “situationship”, “complicated”, you hate them all.

"So I was your girlfriend?"

"Yeah, something like that," he concede, fidgeting with the thin gold chain looped around his neck, his eyes not quite meeting yours, like he's embarrassed to use the term.

‘Something like that,’ you chew on his answer unhappily, sympathizing with your other dimensional self and how the other you seemed to have snagged a commitment phobe.

Other-you, who isn’t here in this dimension with Miguel. You wonder why that is.

"What happened to me?" you ask.

His eyes are glued to the table, not looking up at you as he answers you in a voice so quiet you can barely hear it. "She died."

"Oh."

The revelation shouldn’t take you by surprise.

Every time Miguel’s brought up your other self, it’s been tinted with earth-shattering sadness. It's not hard to put one and one together and come to the conclusion that whatever happened to you in this other dimension didn't end happily.

Still it's an odd feeling to know that out there, somewhere, a version of you has died. A version of you that was clearly very important to the man in front of you.

"I'm sorry," you tell him.

It feels silly to say. It's bizarre to give your condolences over your own parallel death, but Miguel looks so heartbroken. He’s slumped in his seat, large shoulders rounded until his frame looks so much smaller than you're used to, and you don't know what else to do.

"So what is happening to me now," you start, not sure how to word what the phenomena that you're going through is, "these continuous near-death experiences, is that how she died?"

"Yeah."

"And do you know why that... kept happening to her? Why is it happening to me?"

"I don't, and I don't know how to stop it. Believe me I tried."

He cradles the paper cup in his hands, the grip a little bit tighter now until he's creasing the paper and the caramel liquid oozes and leaks from the top.

"What I do know is that the universe isn’t going to stop trying to kill you, no matter what you do. And with every near death incident you manage to survive, these incidents will escalate in nature, until..." he stops, eyes flickering away from the cup to meet yours, but it's like he loses courage and doesn't want to say the last part.

"Until, what?" you prompt.

"Until your dimension collapses."

The blood freezes in your veins. "Wait, collapses!? What do you mean?"

"I can't guarantee it will happen again. But that's what happened last time. When the other you kept cheating death, the universe eventually started to collapse in on itself."

You slump back in your chair, trying to process what you've just been told. What does that mean? That even if you managed to defy all odds to survive, doing so would doom the rest of this universe as you know it?

"When will that happen?" you ask, and you're surprised you manage to get the words out because there is a hard lump in your throat that makes it hurt to even swallow.

"Judging from the trajectory and escalation of events, you have about three months give or take."

The two of you sit in heavy silence, for the moment you're not sure what else to ask him. Because it feels like you are trapped in a building looking for an exit sign, but all that’s tacked onto the brick wall is your death certificate, waiting to be signed and formalized.

There’s no way out. Nowhere to go.

"Give me your hand," he says, breaking the silence.

You give it to him without hesitation, watching, puzzled, as he takes off his watch and secures it around your wrists.

"Why are you giving me your watch?"

"It's not a watch," he says, then he presses something on the face of it, and an image of a young woman flickers into existence in the space above your wrist, vaguely see-through. A hologram!

"This is Lyla," he introduces.

Wait, wait? Lyla? As in your mom Lyla? You watch the tiny woman floating above your wrist. Short bob-cut, and flashy heart-shaped sunglasses, with a twinkle in her eye.

The hologram looks nothing like your mom. You part your mouth, about to ask about the name but you're interrupted by the energetic buzz of a female voice greeting you.

"Boss-girl! Long time no see. Want me to catch you up on the latest multiversal gossip? I compiled an edit of highlights set to Despacito."

"Lyla," Miguel warns, tersely. "Not now."

"Ruuuuude! You're the one who woke me up you know."

"Lyla, go back to sleep."

The female avatar grumbles, but then her image flickers away and the watch turns back into, as far as you can tell, just an ordinary watch.

"Why did you name the watch Lyla?"

"It's not a– " He cuts himself off, sighing with exasperation. "Lyla is an advanced A.I. she's going to be with you at all times. She's an added layer of security, built to protect you."

He didn't answer your question. Completely sidestepped it as if the two of you are having two different conversations.

Built to protect you, he'd said. Does that mean he still intends to do that?

"So you're not going to leave?" you ask him.

He leans back in his seat, eyes drifting towards the table. "No."

You look up at him, stumped. Not sure you're understanding what he's saying. Because not even a few hours ago, when the two of you were in your apartment, this man was adamant there was nothing to be done to save you. That he was going to leave and you were never going to see him again.

Right now though, his actions seem to be contradictory to that. You can't make heads or tails of him. Hot and cold doesn’t even begin to cover it.

"Why not?" you ask, "I mean, not that I’m not grateful, but you seemed pretty set on the whole ‘I can’t save you’ thing. What changed your mind?"

“You did.” His eyes narrow as he looks down at you, crossing his arms ever his chest, "You told me you wanted to live. Have you changed your mind already?"

“Wha– NO! I just want to know why you changed yours.”

“I–” He hesitates, another wave of sadness passing over his face. “I’m a superhero. I save people… or try to. It’s what I do. I’m not gonna just leave you to die after you tell me you want to live.”

It’s a good answer, even if you don’t buy that it’s the whole truth.

You look down at your wrist, and the shiny chrome of the not-watch he's just gifted you winks back up at you. "Do you think I have a chance of surviving all this?"

"It's pretty hopeless," he says, and there’s no break in his expression as he continues. "Your chances of making it out alive are pretty much mathematically impossible."

It's odd though. Even though he's outlining the futility of your situation, basically telling you to raise the white flag and surrender, there's something contradictory in the tone of his voice.

"What do you want to do?" he asks you.

It’s a challenge, you realize. An encouragement. He has faith in you. It's all of these things rolled into one. As if he's telling you to prove the universe wrong.

"I want to live," you answer. "If the universe collapses in three months, then please stay with me. Give me time to solve this and find a way to stay alive."

His mouth curls into a hint of a smile. The very first you've seen from him since you've met. It's bright and boyish, erasing the harsh lines of his stern expression until it gives way for something much softer underneath that makes your heart leap in your chest with triumph.

You grin, a strange elation of happiness buzzing in you as you stretch out your hand to him, in an invitation for a handshake to seal the deal.

"Deal?"

Miguel leans over the table, clasping your hand in his much larger one as he squeezes it back gently.

"Deal." That small smile from before is still there. "So what's next?" he asks.

The thing you never realized, being an ordinary person bereft of super genes or other superhuman powers is just how convenient commuting can be if you have them.

No longer do you have to brave the Lynchian nightmare that is the NYC subway system. Half-naked manic street preachers giving sermons as you’re held hostage, with nowhere else to go in the carriage. Being chased down by a drunk trumpeting Mariachi band. Instead, all you need to do to get from point A to point B (A: being the Chrysler building and B: the building formerly known as your home) is to hold on tight to Miguel as he swings you both above the city gridlock.

You imagine that this is what paragliding must feel like, except it's so much better because here you don't have to do the safety training beforehand or pay $3,000 for the privilege.

The city skyline is a dark evening blue, dotted with the sparkling lights of office buildings, cab roof lights and street lamps, as the wind ruffles through the fabric of your clothes.

It's such a different sight when you're flying above instead of walking on the streets below, that you don't even clock that you're in your neighborhood, until you see a building with a collapsed wall that's been blocked off, looking like a crash site. Only then do you realize... you're home.

Miguel carefully sets you down on your feet on a small patch of concrete that is clear of the rubble and destruction.

"Why did you want to come back here again?" he asks.

It’s a good question. Now that you're here, standing in the middle of charred debris and cracked bricks, you're not sure either. You had some vague plans of seeing what you could salvage, hoping for some clothes, maybe your electric toothbrush, or really just any of your stuff. Something that’s yours, no matter how small, to hold on to after the events of today have ripped away life as you know it.

But there’s nothing left. The furniture, all your books and knick knacks, and even your dirty laundry piles have been demolished. Your home as you know it is gone. There's only piles and piles of rubble and traces of white fire extinguisher foam on the ground. The fire has been out for hours, but the pungent smell of smoke and sulfur still pervades the air.

"You okay?" Miguel asks.

He's still standing at the outer edges of the apartment, close to where your window would have been if a helicopter hadn't crashed through it.

"Yeah... I guess the silver lining is that I didn't have anything expensive. Though it'd been nice if I could've saved my mom's Le Creuset set or at least the nanny-cam so I could return it and get a refund," you joke glibly.

You nudge aside some concrete rubble with the cap of your shoes. There's nothing under there, no treasured memorabilia that's still miraculously intact. Just more burnt concrete and rubble.

"Why did you have a nanny cam?"

You turn around at his question, to see him hovering close to you, one eyebrow raised with an unhappy set to his jaw.

From the displeased expression on his face, he's probably misunderstanding something here. Probably thinks you're operating a very unlucrative Onlyfans business, when what you've really been doing is spy on him and his nightly visits. You don't know which is worse to confess to, so you don't confess to anything.

"No reason," you say, ignoring the way his already raised eyebrow twitches with irritation at your lack of an answer.

"Come on, let's go," he says, and he waves towards you in a come hither motion like he's commanding a dog.

"Go?" you ask him. "It's past midnight. My place, as you can see, is wrecked. Go where exactly?"

Miguel shoots you a strange look. "A hotel," he says, like it's the most obvious thing, and– okay, he's not completely wrong in that assumption.

Problem is, you didn't have time to pick up your wallet or phone before your impromptu interdimensional visit. They’ve been incinerated along with all the rest of your worldly possessions, which means you don't have any way to pay for a hotel.

Plus Manhattan hotel prices average $400 a night. Even if you still had access to your debit cards, your budget’s pretty tight right now after all the capital you invested in your unhinged quest to trap the superhero before you.

"In the city? I don't have that kind of money and it will take months for any insurance payouts to come in."

You should know. As an insurance claims adjuster, you know you’ll be lucky if your claim is processed before the end of the year. And, ugh, just the thought of the paperwork you’ll have to fill out is enough to give you an anxiety migraine.

"I’ll cover the room," Miguel says casually before holding out a hand to you, "Come on, let’s go."

When Miguel said he’d cover it, you expected a reasonably-priced room at one of the Days Inn across the river or the like. Hopefully a place with no rats or bed bugs, and maybe clean bedding over a somewhat comfortable mattress for you to pass out on if you were lucky.

You didn't expect this.

Standing in front of the Midtown Four Seasons, you find yourself on sleek marble so polished you can see your own reflection. You haven't even stepped a foot inside yet and there are two old fashioned doormen, wearing immaculately fitted suits, with an even more impressive posture opening the majestic double-set doors for you as you approach.

It's swanky as hell, and you can’t help gawking like a tourist, eyes glued to the decadent carved ceilings that must be at least 30 feet tall, soaring above you. Honey-colored limestone that looks like it’s been looted from Ancient Rome.

You feel more than a little bit out of place. This is way outside of your budget. You could probably work your job for a lifetime, and not have enough disposable income to stay the night at a place like this.

"Uhm, Miguel... this place is way too–" you start, turning towards him.

But as you were busy lamenting the state of the housing market, he's already walked away from you (for such a bulky guy, he moves swiftly and silently) and as you whip your head around to find him, he's already standing in front of the receptionist.

Damned antelope legged man, would it kill him to wait up for you once in a while? You run up after him and have to tip-toe in order to see over his shoulder because the giant mammoth is blocking the check-in counter.

And wow, even the receptionist here is of a different caliber than the ones you'd find at Holiday Inn. A fashionable bob-cut with razor sharp edges, looking like a model cut out from a Vogue cover.

"Do you have a reservation, Sir?"

You half-expect him to say no, and that the two of you would have to tuck your tail between your legs and walk out of here to the backdrop of a sad trombone playing.

To your astonishment he says your name. The receptionist tip-taps away at her keyboard and then she nods and smiles gracefully at you both.

"Yes of course. After reviewing your reservation details, I am pleased to inform you that all necessary arrangements have already been made, including advance payment and verification of your identification. Your room is ready for you, we trust you will enjoy your stay."

She flashes you a pearly white smile so shiny it's almost blinding and hands you a hotel key card.

When you turn around, to your confusion Miguel is no longer next to you. How does he keep disappearing like this?

"Cielito," Miguel’s voice calls. The nickname doesn’t register at first. It doesn't even occur to you that he’s referring to you, until he barks it out a second time.

Your head darts up to see him standing by the elevator, tapping his feet impatiently as he waits for you to make it over to him.

"How did you do that?" you whisper loudly to him as you step into the elevator. "Where did you get my ID? How did you make a reservation? How did you--"

He takes your hand, mid-sentence, turning your wrist upwards and taps the watch.

"The computer systems in this universe are child's play for Lyla to manipulate. Reservations, money, ID, she can take care of all of that easily," he explains.

"She can do that?" you ask, and Miguel merely nods at you as the elevator closes behind the two of you.

You tip your head down to inspect your gifted watch. In awe of this technical marvel that would make Siri look like it’s from the stone-ages. You wonder if she can boost your credit scores. She could probably hack any wi-fi password so you'd never have to worry about data throttling again. She could get you table reservations for Libertine! The possibilities are endless!

You turn to Miguel. "Can Lyla get me Beyoncé tickets?" you ask.

He just shakes his head at you with what almost qualifies as an amused smile.

The room upstairs is massive.

It’s easily three times the size of your little studio apartment, and the ceilings are twice as tall, with a hanging glass chandelier that’s sparkling bright enough to blind you. It looks like one of those places featured in Architectural Digest.

Everything is in an art deco style, with expensive looking furniture and even more expensive art hanging on the one spare wall that isn’t covered in floor to ceiling windows. There are large shelves and a sleek looking kitchen, complete with an opulent looking velvet lounge chair of emerald green that looks like something a Roman emperor would be fed grapes on.

In this colossal space of a room, there is only one bed. One colossal, plush-mattress-topped, goose down duvet and probably 1,000,000,000 thread count sheet covered bed.

You tense up, not sure what the arrangements Miguel had in mind. Did he want the two of you to sleep in the same bed?

Miguel did pay for the room, so you’re not going to start voicing objections. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time in the short time span that you two have known each other to do that. This bed is also a lot wider than your tiny double bed, so it wouldn’t be the cramped disaster it was last night. You’d just have to make sure to use the bathroom before bed this time so he doesn’t jab your full bladder in the morning again.

Without saying anything, Miguel strides across the length of the room with impatient and determined steps. His hand reaches for the balcony doors and slides them open.

"Wait wait, where are you going?" you ask him as you run up to the middle of the room.

“I’m sleeping outside,” he says over his shoulder, and your mind boggles with that.

“Why? Isn’t it better for you to stay here?”

"This is the 62nd floor. That’s about as safe as you’re going to get. I’ll keep a lookout to make sure no more helicopters come crashing in.”

You’re not sure if he means the last part as a joke or not, but as you watch his broad back retreating as he walks away from you, a sickening sort of the deja vu twists through your chest.

I can’t save you, he’d said back in your apartment, Nothing can.

The feeling clawing at your chest feels alarmingly like panic. It screams that he’s leaving you. That he’s never coming back. That you’ll never see him again.

You’re being irrational, and you know it. You remind yourself that he wouldn’t have done this much for you only to bail in the middle of the night, but that doesn’t stop the fear that’s festering, sharp and urgent, under your skin, or the way your heart races, your whole body flashing hot and cold at the same time.

You want him to stay.

“Miguel,” you call out, and he immediately stops and turns to look back at you, one eyebrow raised in a skeptical question.

Please stay.

You open your mouth, but the words won’t come out. You can’t ask this man—this big, sarcastic, rude hulk of a man—to have a sleepover with you because you’re scared to be alone in the dark. He would laugh you out of the hotel room.

“Uhm… thank you,” you say instead, but it’s no less sincere, “For everything.”

His eyes soften, the sharp narrowness of them easing up. “It’s fine,” he mumbles, and despite the cold chill of the evening, you think you can see a faint flush blooming in his cheeks, before he quickly ducks his face from you. “I’ll be right outside if something happens.”

He turns back around and walks out, closing the patio doors with a gentle click behind him, leaving you by yourself.

It’s quiet.

You survey the empty room you’re in. Without Miguel’s large frame taking up space, it seems even bigger than it did before.

It’s a beautiful room. Something that you’re pretty sure you’ve seen in a movie set. You don’t know why you’re not as excited as you were before. This is you living your Pretty Woman moment. You should be filling up the big jacuzzi tub you saw with bubbles. Heck, maybe ask Lyla to order you a bottle of champagne from room service.

Instead, your eyes linger on the glass patio doors leading to the balcony terrace. You walk over to the bed, perching yourself down on the edge of the mattress, then flop down.

Might as well try to sleep, you think to yourself as you climb under the covers and switch off the light. The best thing you can do right now is catch yourself some rest so you’ll be alert while trying to figure out your next steps tomorrow.

3 months… That’s what Miguel told you.

That’s all the time you have left.

That means you don’t have time to waste, but you also have no idea where to start. The local library doesn’t exactly carry any resources on how to stop the universe from trying to kill you.

The Universe.

An infinite cosmos, grander than any human being can possibly comprehend. This vast space containing all the galaxies with its billions of stars and planets, where an individual being does not even register as a speck, and it wants you dead. How can you possibly fight against those odds?

You lie wide-eyed and awake staring into the dark of the room, and the feeling of dread gnaws into you.

You don’t want to be alone right now. Turning in the bed, your eyes find their way back to the blank slate of the pitched night outside the balcony doors.

You really wished he had stayed with you.

Sitting upright in the bed, you consider your options. You can lie back down. Suffer insomnia and the existential horror of knowing the universe is trying to murder you. Or you can man up, swallow down whatever tiny morsel of your pride you have left and ask Miguel to come back inside and stay with you.

Flinging the duvet from your body, you get up to walk over to the balcony. You hesitate for a moment before tapping the window pane the way you might knock on a door, giving a polite head's up before you slide the balcony patio open. But when you poke your head out, turning your head left and right, Miguel's nowhere to be found.

Okay, that’s weird. He said he’d be right outside if you needed him. You walk up to the ledge of the balcony terrace, leaning over the rail and peer down to see him dangling upside down, from the ledge of your balcony. The sight nearly makes you scream.

"Miguel!”

At you calling his name, he pulls himself up, one clawed hand gripping at the concrete wall as he climbs his way up and over to you. He makes it look easy, as if gravity does not exist for him, and it’s only a moment until he’s perched on the ledge of the balcony, facing you.

“What’s wrong?” he demands, eyes concerned, and you’re suddenly aware of how very close he is. His face mere inches from yours, your noses nearly touching.

“What’s wrong? You’re hanging upside down from the 62nd floor! What are you, a bat?!"

“Why did you come out here?” he clarifies, and his words give you pause. You try to gather your thoughts after the bizarre sight you just walked into and remember what you came out here for.

He’s still looking at you with his full and intense concentration that makes your skin prickle with warmth.

God, it’s embarrassing to ask. You feel like you’re five years old, asking your parents to turn the nightlight on, even though you know you’re a big girl now and aren’t supposed to be afraid of monsters hiding under your bed any more.

You look down on your hands, where you’re wringing them together, then back up at him, and make yourself spit it out, "Could you… maybe… stay with me tonight?"

His eyes widen at your question, but he doesn’t actually answer you and gives you no physical indication one way or the other.

"I feel safer when you're with me,” you admit.

“I am with you out here,” he counters, because of course he can’t make this easy for you.

“I can’t see you out here.”

The line of his shoulder eases, and he ducks his head down with a resigned sigh. "Fine. Get back inside, Cielito. You're going to catch a cold like this."

You shuffle back inside to your bed, watching out of the corner of your eye as he follows you inside and settles himself on the lounge sofa. He’s so tall that his feet are sticking out over the armrests, like a long-legged stork.

Hiding a smile, you climb back into bed, wrapping the bedding all around yourself.

“Good night,” you call out, and he makes a grumpy noise of acknowledgment.

Your head drops back onto the soft pillow, and you close your eyes, ready to sleep. It’s such a nice bed. The sheets are cool and soft against your skin and smell of fresh eucalyptus. The mattress is the most comfortable you ever remember resting on, firm but somehow soft at the same time. You feel like you’re sleeping on a cloud.

Moments go by, and you revel in the sumptuous bed, waiting for the best sleep of your life to claim you.

Except it doesn’t.

Somehow… you still can’t fall asleep. Is it… too soft maybe? You turn in the bed, twisting your torso to get into a position you can comfortably sink into, but something doesn’t feel right. There’s no lumpiness like at home, but that should be a good thing.

Except… despite the decadent softness of the bed. Despite the fact that the sheets probably have a thread count with more zeros than your checking and savings accounts combined. Despite all of the luxury that surrounds you, you still find yourself tossing and turning and wide fucking awake.

The bed is too big. You don’t know what to do with all this space. Your body is not accustomed to this sort of decadence. What if you suffocate sinking into this soft fluffy pillow in your sleep? What if you toss and turn until you fall off this massive bed and break your neck? Maybe that’s how out of all of the universe’s attempts to kill you, you end up dying?

Fuck!

You can’t sleep.

You turn to your side and stare into the velvet lounge chaise on the opposite side of your room, where Miguel is.

Quietly, you pad up to his still form until you’re standing in front of him and hunch over, trying to decide how rude it would be to wake him up again when there's nothing he can do about your stupid insomnia anyway.

In the dim light, you spot something glinting at you. Looking closer, you notice that the thin chain looped around his neck has escaped his shirt to pool on the fabric of the sofa cushion under him. You gently drag the loose end of the necklace toward you, and find a smooth golden band threaded onto it.

Picking it up cautiously, you flip it in your hand and find that there's something engraved on the inside. It's hard to see in the darkness, but when you lean closer and squint your eyes, you can just make out what it says.

'MO'—undeniably the initials of one Miguel O'Hara.

Twisting the ring slightly, you find a tiny plus sign followed by your own initials, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach.

Oh.

The memory of sitting across Miguel at Starbucks returns to you, when you had asked him who you were to him. You think of the avoidant gaze and how he couldn't look you in the eye.

‘Something like that,’ huh?

Guess the other you wasn't just his girlfriend after all, you think, chest drawn so tight it’s painful.

Holding the wedding band in the palm of your hand, you slide down to sit down on the floor with your back pressed against the chaise lounge.

Your heart aches for the man in front of you and everything he's lost. You really, really hope you're not going to end up as just another regret on his list.

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: As always to my best friend @thirstworldproblemss I am half asleep and running on fumes. I'm wording things poorly but I just want you to know that I am very happy I have you. Thank you for being my friend and for the time we get to spend together. I have the most fun when I'm with you.

Also to @guruan who is my muse, my source of inspiration. This chapter is dedicated to her because have you seen this beautiful piece of artwork she did for EYEM?!

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse #marvel #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you #marvel mcu

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watership-clown · 5 months ago

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Debunking Lily's "Behavioural Psychology Degree" with facts and logic (and a two minute google search)

First of all, big ups to @skrinkskronk (EDIT: ammended the screenshot credit :) thank you to skrinkskronk for both the picture and the clarification!) as, without their keen screenshot button, this post could not and would not exist. You can check for yourself - the original ask no longer lives on Lily's blog (a fact that I'm sure many Lily defenders will have quite the opinion about - please see the questions section below! <3) Second of all: who the fuck am I?

Someone who attended university in Canada, that's who!

For real though: I have a bachelor's degree from the University of British Columbia, double majoring in English Literature and History. Does this mean I know anything at all about getting a behavioural psych degree?

No!

But I do know how attending university in Canada works. It is not at all as Lily describes. I'm going to largely avoid talking about the degree itself in this post - CrimsonEnder has already done the research on that and I highly recommend checking out his post for more information on why Lily couldn't even get the degree she claims to have studied for. Instead, I'm going to go forward as if we are in an alternate dimension where Lily made the far more believable claim that she was working towards a Bachelor of Science degree with a focus on Psychology.

Let's do a close reading, shall we?

And barely graduating is still graduating.

Starting off strong: this is a true statement! She's right, to get your high school diploma in the province of Nova Scotia, one must:

Meet the minimum number of credits requited for graduation, which is 18 (source: creditsforgraduationdiplomaen.pdf (ednet.ns.ca) )

That's it! (in my province we also had to pass a literacy assessment and do some 30 odd hours of community service. no, I'm not still salty about it 10 years later.)

However, passing is not succeeding. Lily has stated that she barely passed high school, did the bare minimum to get it over and done with. This is fine in and of itself. I attach no moral or intellectual weight to not caring about high school as it is by no means set up to let every child succeed. However, doing the "bare minimum" to pass does not open many doors for further schooling down the road. So, in order to pass a class, one must achieve a minimum of 60% - otherwise known as a grade of C. Assuming that for her 12th grade year Lily took a full load of 4 courses over two semesters, achieving the minimum grade that would allow her to walk the stage and get her diploma, she would leave high school with a 2.0 gpa.

Remember this score. 2.0. We will come back to this.

This is in Canada, there's no SAT's to take.

Look at that! 2 for 2 true statements. Canada has no SAT or nation-wide equivalent. Understanding this, in order to meet the minimum requirements for admission into university, one's GPA plays an extremely large role. For example, in order to even be considered for admission into McGill, one of Canada's top universities, one must have a 3-year minimum grade range of 85% (an A) and a final GPA of 4.0. Grades equal to or above this minimum do not guarantee admission (NO, I'm NOT still salty that I didn't get admitted). With a 2.0 GPA, Lily's application would have been tossed after a glance. "BUT BUT BUT!" I hear you say, "this is from one of Canada's most selective institutions! In a province Lily doesn't even live in! You're holding her to an improbable standard!" And you would be right! But this was just an example to showcase how university admissions function. Let's look at a uni a little closer to home. Let's even look at four:

Dalhousie University Undergrad minimum requirements: 75% or 3.0 (source: General admission requirements | Dalhousie University) )

Mount Saint Vincent University: 70% or 2.70 with no individual grade below 60% (source: Admissions (msvu.ca) )

Saint Mary's University: 70% or 2.70 with no individual grade below 60% (source: Canadian High School Curriculum Requirements | Future Students | Saint Mary's University (smu.ca) )

University of King's College: 75% or 2.0 with no individual grade below 60% (source: Undergraduate Admission Requirements | University of King's College (ukings.ca) )

She doesn't meet the minimum requirements for any local Halifax university or college with a psych program. However, if we are to be charitable, (and believe that Lily scored slightly above the true minimum of 60%) MSVU could have admitted her based on individual merit. From their mature students policy, we can read:

Applicants who present overall grade XII averages between 65 and 69 percent will be reviewed for admission on an individual basis. (source: Admissions (msvu.ca) )

I'm not going to pretend this isn't the case or couldn't be true or try to obfuscate it from her and her defenders.

... But if the rebuttal is so easy, why doesn't she say that?

You either graduated High School or you didn't.

I'm sure Lily did graduate high school. I'm certain she did so after putting in the minimum amount of required work. I do not believe that she has or ever intends to attend university in Canada.

Objections I'm sure this post will spark:

"skrinkskronk's screenshot could be faked!"

And I could have blue skin, but that is not reality. Rather than taking my word for the fact that this ask was real, the answer Lily gave was as shown above, and many people saw it before it went MIA, I instead invite you to consider something: asking Lily yourself. Go on! Ask her! In whatever way you find most comfortable, ask how she went to university for a) a degree that doesn't exist b) with a below-requirement gpa and c) paid for it with money she doesn't have. When she deletes your ask, ignores your superchat, or approaches your honest and genuine thirst for truth with hostility, I then want you to ask yourself why that is.

"Lily could have upgraded her scores at a local college before applying to university!"

Did she say that? Has she ever claimed to have done that? Or are you putting the right words into her mouth so she can easily go "Yup! that's what I did! Obviously!"

If she had done this (or had at least thought of this herself), why didn't she claim to have done this in the original ask? Wouldn't it be easier to just say "I upgraded later" than pretend that a measly 2.0 could get you into an advanced degree program? I have no doubt that Lily is going to recount her story and claim the above statement was true all along. "[She] just upgraded!" But I ask you to think on this, to really consider it: why is the story only changing after confrontation? If the answer is so simple and so obvious... why was it not always true?

"You say at multiple points that Lily could easily provide a rebuttal but she doesn't owe you or any of her critics a response!"

This is true! However, she responds to criticism all the time.

Her taking down Sai's streams is her responding to Sai's criticism. Her snarkily talking around Ant and his content in her videos is her responding to his criticism. Her answering asks from her fans (despite in her "rules" stating that she will not) filling her in on the goings on of her critics is a response to their criticism. A response isn't always the literal "and to that I say: blah blah blah".

If Crimson, I, or anyone else who thought twice about this situation were wrong: could we not be easily disproved? She is the one who (supposedly) attempted the degree. The records would exist. She would have access to them. She would not run away when challenged with a very easily disprovable argument. As much as Lily loves to protest that she ignores the haters and refuses to respond to criticism, that claim is demonstrably false. She responds to criticism all the time - she can't keep Sai, Crimson, or Ant's names out of her mouth while on stream, in her videos, or on her blog. If she had an easy win, she would take it. She has before. She will again.

Closing Arguments

I feel like I have adequately demonstrated that, even if Lily did apply for an undergraduate degree, if not the flashy shiny

Behavioural Psychology

that she claims, she likely wouldn't have even made it past the admissions stage. I don't want to say that it's completely impossible for her to have attempted post-secondary education. As stated above: MSVU could have admitted her based on individual merit.

What I do hope is that this post invites people think more critically about her claims.

What do I think happened with the original ask? I think some anon, the original question asker or otherwise, challenged her before I or CrimsonEnder did. This scared her and, realizing she'd been caught, tried to wash away the evidence before anyone else could trip on the lie. Sadly, that's not what happened.

If she did attend university, how did she pay for it? Is a 2.0 GPA enough to qualify her for a scholarship, grant, or bursary? A 4 year degree in Canada can easily run a person $6,463 per year, not including textbooks or other fees. Where did she suddenly get that much money? These claims are so easily questioned and disproven because Lily Orchard thinks her audience is too whipped and fundamentally too stupid to ever seek the information for themselves.

She does not respect you. She does not respect your intelligence as a human being.

You deserve better.

#lily orchard #lily orchard critical #lily orchard is a liar

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son1c · 3 months ago

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in my movie rewrite, there's a big emphasis on environmentalism. one of GUN's primary objectives is to find an alternative source of energy, because fossil fuels really aren't working out for the planet, and they've deemed solar/wind/etc as failures because they're slow to catch on. what they covet is a limitless energy source that they can milk like a battery for humanity.

10 years ago, they got close to something promising when they discovered a sunken island near the bermuda triangle. but their progress was thwarted thanks to one of their scientists going rogue. she took all of their research, wiped their computers, and ran. GUN has a new guy working on the case now (eggman) but he's eggman so his ego and personal projects are getting in the way of any real progress. that is, until he catches something unexpected with one of his drone's cameras: an artifact that had been recovered from the bermuda triangle research site a decade ago, hanging from some kid's neck. it's annie's key! (sonic is in the picture too, but he's just some blurry blue smudge.)

the truth of the matter is this: the sunken island is angel island and the key will free Chaos. you know, the big water monster guy. that rogue scientist, aka annie's mom, figured this out 10 years ago and stole the key before GUN could use it. i'm thinking also that the key isn't really a key, but some ancient seal thing that just so happens to look like a key. in reality, it's Chaos' mind or heart or something. and the closer sonic and annie get to the island, the more it stirs, and annie starts having some really weird dreams...

i was also thinking that the reason why long claw did all that shit and isolated sonic and etc is because he's The One Living Person who can use the chaos emerald's power and go super. basically he's an extremely dangerous weapon. in my rewritten lore for the movies, only one person has this power at a time and it has been historically used to obliterate entire planets so long claw's species are tasked with finding each generation's chaos controller (lame name but i can't think of something better rn) before anyone else can swoop them up and groom them into being a weapon of war. btw it's completely random who has this power. kind of like the avatar i guess. cuz i want to keep sonic's "just some guy" thing intact, it's important to me.

this would also make shadow showing up way down the line extremely disconcerting because he's not supposed to exist. but i guess no one accounted for artificially made hedgehogs. ha

#annie the human

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literaryvein-reblogs · 3 months ago

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Hey, do you have any tips for historical detective fiction?

(I would like to draw inspiration from our own history but create an Alternate Universe cause I'm too afraid to get things wrong, might as well make a new country or something from scratch with it's own history.)

Writing Notes: Historical Detective Fiction

Historical detective fiction is an important sub-category of historical fiction in general. As such, it should be judged by the same criteria applied to historical fiction; namely, that a certain verisimilitude is present.

All the events depicted may not have actually happened but the reader should believe that they could have happened.

Moreover, when real events are mingled with fictional ones, that mixing must appear to be natural.

Additionally, real historical characters must act in accordance with their distinguishing characteristics and in conformity with what we know about them.

Martin and Annette Meyers, authors of the Dutchman detective series, know and adhere to these standards.

Their careful adaptation of their novels to the demands of the historical genre has made them a model of historical detective writing.

Using the Fantasy Fiction Continuum, Historical Fiction edges a little further into the realm of Fantastical.

The author describes a past world that modern readers are unfamiliar with by painting mental pictures of times, locations, customs & cultures that no longer exist.

Some Tips from a Historical Fiction Writer:

The big hook for many readers is that the history is real and many of the characters did walk the Earth. But that means readers want it to be accurate. They will be quick to pick on poor research and ‘iffy’ twists on reality and time. But you will sometimes get it wrong – or reality just messes your story. Writing tips for any aspiring authors in this genre are:

Never give up on researching

Keep learning and developing

Accept all feedback – even the highly critical is useful

If you need to twist reality – be honest

People who point out your mistakes can seem pernickety, but they are generally of good intention. Even if not – pretend they are and keep a reader

Common Elements of Historical Fiction

Setting: The setting is the most important part of a historical fiction novel. It should take place during an authentic period in history and be set in a real historical place. For example, New York City during the Great Depression or Paris, France during World War II.

Plot: The plot in a historical fiction novel is a combination of real events and fictional events. You can invent characters, cities, and events, but they still must make sense to the time period. For example, a novel set in London, England in 1666 would benefit from incorporating the Great Fire of London, a major turning point in the city’s history.

Characters: The characters can be real, fictional, or both, but they should all look, speak, and act in ways that accurately reflect the era. For example, if you are writing a book about Mary Tudor, it shouldn’t disregard or reinvent her family history as the daughter of Henry VIII and sister to Elizabeth I, who both played an important role in Mary’s reign.

Dialogue: The dialogue must be authentic to the time period and should reflect the status of the characters who are speaking. For example, British soldiers in the Revolutionary War wouldn’t use Western slang of today.

Conflict: The problems the characters encounter should be conflicts people of that era would encounter. For example, your book might describe the hesitation and fear German soldier feels as he is to the Eastern Front, where he knows he is likely to die.

Tips for Writing Historical Fiction

Free write to brainstorm ideas. If you’re interested in writing historical fiction but don’t know where to start, spend 15 minutes writing in your notebook about a period or historical event you’re interested in rendering in fiction. Note any assumptions you have about the period, cultural depictions of it in other books and films, and what specifically interests you about this moment in history.

Find an interesting way into a time period. Consider using a historical time period as a backdrop and placing fictional characters and events within that world. Or, choose a historical event and create fictional characters who experienced it and whose lives were affected by it

Do your research. In addition to getting the historical facts correct, the smaller details are important, too. Write an inventory of the details in your work that you haven’t researched but should check. Likely, these will be small things—for example, the color of refrigerators—whose accuracy will keep a reader interested and make your story more credible.

Build a world. World-building makes a historical fiction books more authentic and gives readers a reason to keep coming back. Include details about the world in which your story takes place to give readers historical context and balance those exotic details with familiar, relatable ones to keep the story grounded. However, don’t add information just to add it; make sure every part of your world-building advances the story.

Don’t get bogged down in dialogue. Different historical eras have different vocabulary and grammatical structures. Include occasional words and phrases to reinforce the historical setting, but don’t include so many that the novel becomes difficult to read and less enjoyable.

Add fictional characters. Even if you’re writing about true events, you can take some creative liberties. Introducing fictional characters to complement those based on actual historical figures can help you move the story along, inject personality, and keep it entertaining.

Choose which of these tips for historical fiction work best for your story and incorporate them with elements of Detective Fiction.

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ More: Notes & References

The elements found in other subgenres overlap with detective historical fiction as well, so here are previous posts that you might find helpful as references:

Clues in Crime Fiction

Basic Narrative Pattern of Crime Fiction

Writing Notes on Pain & Violence

Writing Tips: A "Convincing" Mystery

In creating your fictional world from scratch, here are some worksheets and templates on worldbuilding that may guide you, or more references on worldbuilding.

Hope this helps with your writing!

#historical fiction #writeblr #on writing #writing tips #writing advice #writing reference #dark academia #literature #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #writing prompt #creative writing #fiction #novel #light academia #lit #writing inspiration #writing resources

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willowlevulett · 25 days ago

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I have no idea if I'll finish this but here's a little drabble that's been in my drafts for weeks.

The freezing air nips painfully at his bare arms as Jayce slides his balcony door closed, his lighter heavy in his hand.

"I would suggest you review and give the board alternative suppliers or materials by Monday. You would do well to remember why we all do this, Jayce"

He sighs, sinking into the frost covered cushion of a rickety lounge chair. He breathes through the ache of the cold, through the panic that still prickled up his spine even after all these years. It was a game he played. It was dumb and he kept his mouth shut about it. How long could he last in the cold before his nervous system became convinced he was freezing to death all over again. The answer everytime was not long. He slides his jacket roughly over his shoulders.

He was a weak man after all.

"I would strongly suggest you leave, Jayce"

His name has been tossed around quite frequently as of late. It felt nowadays more common than not that someone knew his name before he had a chance to say it. How odd of an existence, your own name ripped from your mouth before you have a chance to form it. This, too, was dumb. He knew that. Many people begged and pleaded for his very privileged, cushy life. Hell, when he was young and bright-eyed, he gazed up at the faces of the titans of industry and progress and hoped beyond hope that he would join them one day.

Well, here he was. The life he clawed and prayed for. And he was smoking on his balcony because of it. A shameful habit, this he also knew. Jayce could name a million other things he'd rather tell his mother than the small fact that he smoked. He'd rather look her in the eye and say he had a praise kink before he let her even got a whiff of smoke on his clothes.

The click of the lighter was a comfort. The warmth of the smoke in his mouth was like an old kiss. The cigarette balanced between his fingers was grounding. All of it was very simple. He could explain why he smoked. He knew why. The scientific and biological explanation shoved violently to the wayside. No, it wasn't the inherent addictive properties of nicotine, though he wouldn't deny that is a huge part of it. The reason he would say with a guilty, teeth barring smile is that he feels like himself when he's doing it.

So many of his choices in life have been reckless. He broke his arm at the ripe age of 9 because he figured out how to open the second story window and had always wanted to see the stars on the roof. He crashed his first car while trying to go back roading with his first boyfriend tucked in the front seat. He has a scar that snakes across the entirety of his back that he got into a bar fight when he was freshly 19 and snuck into a seedy bar with a friend he doesn't even remember the name of now.

Professionally, it has been no different. When his work at upper grad became increasingly worrying to his professors, they banned him from continuing his research into renewable energy in his school lab. Explosion risks were cited, but mostly, it was the risk of their oil grants being threatened by the continuation of the testing he was doing. Well, they weren't wrong about the explosion risks. The shrapnel that caught him in the right rib speaks to this all too well. The doctors said they couldn't remove it all and would only try in the future if it migrates too close to his lung. Jayce runs his hand over his rib cage and almost feels like he can feel it. A piece of his own invention nestled safety inside. He takes a long drag and thinks of the man who helped him bring it past that violate point and into something real. Something useful. Not just reckless.

Viktor. Sharp lines, sharp wit, sharp words, and sharp golden eyes. Viktor slid into his life with the grace and finesse of an assassin's knife. The wound he cut was clean, healed well, and could've been deadly if he so chose.

He was not reckless. He was calculating to a fault. The perfect pairing to a perpetual fuck up of an engineer that is Jayce Talis.

Jayce slips his hand under his shirt, pressing his chilled fingertips to the scars that litter his skin. He feels himself take a long shuddering breath.

No, no, let's not think about it, he begs himself. But like with all things, Jayce never listens.

Viktor, as beautiful as light shining through a shard of glass, had held his jaw in a vice grip last night. Jayce, as smooth as a train wreck, had gasped and sputtered an apology before he even registered what might be wrong. He was always making mistakes with Viktor. Drinking three too many beers at the mans apartment surely resulted in at least one.

Viktor had simply stared at him for a moment before releasing his jaw like one would release a bird back to the wild. With a flick of his fingers and a pushing forward motion that seemed to suggest to Jayce that he should flee out the window.

"I'm sorry. What was it? Am..am I too drunk? I've been drunker with you. I don't-I don't understand. Vik-"

"Jayce." His name. Always his name. Viktor always says it like it's made of honey. Jayce wants him to drip it on his tongue.

"What you just said." Oh lord, what he said. Jayce crumbles in on himself, one hand still clutching the burning cigarette, the other wrapped around his ribs.

"You just said," the specter of Viktor in his head continued, "that I am the most beautiful thing you've ever seen."

And Jayce had. They were discussing the stained glass of the cathedral they had passed on their work trip to England. It had been breathingly gorgeous when they decided it was worth the detour and went inside. The colors played like giddy children across the stonework floor. The high ceilings held the ribs of gorgeously carved wooden beams. But despite all that, Jayce found himself looking at how the light played in Viktor's hair. How his pupils dilated. How he licked his lips before he started to ramble about 18th century philosophy.

He was the most beautiful thing Jayce has ever seen. He shouldn't have said it. Viktor was not reckless. Starting a relationship between them was everything Jayce was and Viktor wasn't. He was no fool, Jayce knew enough about himself to know he was far too open with his emotions for Viktor to not at least have a guess that he habored more than work appropriate feelings for the other man. They had been working together three years now and he still couldn't figure out if Viktor returned those feelings. After last night, Jayce thinks with a bitter, painful swallow, he got his answer.

The answer was no.

No. Oh gods, it was no.

Jayce was hopelessly head over heels in love with him and Viktor's answer was no. Jayce, ever the fool, had taken one more risk and had gently set his hand on the side of the other mans neck. He had felt the rabbiting pusle of him, could feel how soft the skin was. He had touched him here before. All casual and never in this intimate manner where his palm pressed against the column of his throat. It was heaven, it was the cold depths of hell. Something in his face must've showed how much he felt for Viktor. It must've betrayed him like it always does. Too expressive, everyone always told him. And Viktor told him to leave. So, he did.

He had a painfully awkward progress report with their investment board earlier this afternoon. Viktor rarely ever showed up to those, but his absence ached worse than the hangover anyway. It went horribly. The board wasn't happy with the cost of materials and was demanding they either rework what metal they are using in the generators or bring the cost down in other ways. Jayce wasn't looking forward to bringing this all to his partner tomorrow.

He lights another cigarette, finally uncurling his fingers from where his nails have bitten half moons into the skin.

"Those will kill you."

Jayce startles, his chair clattering backwards, knocking his ash tray clear across the balcony. A string of curses tumble from his mouth as he whips to lock eyes with none other than the ghost who's been haunting him all day.

Viktor has one hand curled around the open balcony door and the other on his cane. How Jayce didn't hear the door slide open or the click of his cane, well, he'd rather be embarrassed about one thing at a time.

"Hey." It was meant to sound casual, but it comes out sounding absolutely wrecked. His throat suddenly hoarse, his voice thick. He clears it and tries again.

"Hey, buddy! I was just going shoot off a text that we'll need to meet in the morning. Lots of demands from the board. You know how it is." Too much. It was too cheery and over the top. Jayce grimaces and drops his head into his smoke wreathed hands. Hiding, a cowards move. God, could this be any worse.

"Can I sit?" No. Yes. Always. Please leave and let me suffer alone.

"Of course."

#jayce talis #arcane jayce #arcane viktor #jayvik #arcane #jayce x viktor #more just writing practice #and also jayce has me by the throat and I want to write him all the time #jayce smokes because I want him to

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ganondoodle · 7 months ago

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sudden quest idea for totk rewritten (botw2 edition)

kashiwa (kass? sorry english, i will always think of cheese when i hear this name) travels hyrule again, but this time with his kids who are older now (or even with his whole family) each of them having a different instrument

they offer a quest or riddle again but this time with new songs- or alternatively, you can find each of them on their own in certain spots where they set up camp, as in they travel on their own to find inspiritation for songs, like carpenters that per tradition have to travel a while to be granted their certification (idk if thats a thing in america, it is here, though i have seen very few these days, back when i was in school we often took one in if we had space in car since they have to hitchhike as far as i know)

you help each one write their own song which either leads to a minidungeon or otherwise a reward (maybe some per research, so you gotta go around looking for clues to help them) and makes them travel back to whereever kashiwa is (perhaps he could be in a new settlement, like idk if i like the place where the spypost is in totk its seems to be a terrible place for .. a spypost- like id conisder the forgotten plateau for its central spot, its elevation and history, but i like the idea of putting the end fight there too much and putting it both there doesn work) and unlocks a bigger thing, like a bonus dungeon or at least some bigger mystery thing (idk yet, just had this idea)

idea is that you bring him back, since hes a fan favorite, but change it up in a natural way, so his kids are older now and take his role from botw, but not quite since hes was researching the song of his teacher, his children are trying to write thier own songs, as in ... looking into the future not just the past in a way, it keeps him there but doesnt make it a full repeat of botw and also doesnt just ... delete him- also you got a music thing again that isnt that weird new group which, while not ... bad, were kinda weird and i hated how they locked the fairies and the quests to get there (like i feel like to make a botw2 work you need less new characters that dont get any development or personality anyway and more letting existing characters progress?)

#ganondoodles talks #zelda #ganondoodles rewrites totk #keeping this like a lil note to think of it further #but i like the idea bc it feels like a natural progression while also being another iteration #idk .. i just wanna make things feel new but also coherent and more meaningful #open for more ideas of course- but i also want to get the rough draft for the comic done finally so i might slow down on concepts

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thatswhatsushesaid · 10 months ago

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while high last night i decided to bully the new facebook AI assistant by asking it to calculate how many words the beatles have ever written across their complete discography. the resulting interaction was so unexpectedly interesting to me that i just really want to share it here.

(full disclosure: while not high, i did try to do a little digging to verify whether meta's AI was trained in the same shitty way that the chatGPT AI was, i.e., through broad scraping of information without any regard for copyright or other intellectual property rights, and was modestly reassured that there are more licensing agreements in place between meta and IP sources. i do wonder just how heavily they're leaning on the 'fair use' provision of copyright law to justify some of what they're doing, but tl;dr it looks like they have learned from chatGPT's high profile mistakes and are trying not to replicate them.)

anyway, here's how it went:

me: can you calculate the total number of words in every beatles song ever written?

meta AI: I can't calculate the total number of words in every Beatles song ever written, but I can tell you that there are 186 songs in total by the Beatles ¹. You can use an online lyrics website, such as Genius, MetroLyrics or AZLyrics, to count the words in each song and calculate the total number of words in every Beatles song ever written. [link to Bing search results included]

me: but i'm tired 😞

meta AI: I understand! Counting the words in every Beatles song would be a massive task. It's estimated that the Beatles have written over 250,000 words in their songs. If you're feeling tired, you can always try breaking the task down into smaller chunks, like counting the words in one album at a time. Alternatively, you could try searching online for a pre-existing count or estimate. Some fans or researchers may have already done the work for you! Get some rest, and maybe tackle the task when you're feeling more energized!

me: what if i say please

meta AI: Please is a magic word!

Alright, I'll try to help you with that. However, please note that it's a complex task, and I might not be able to give you an exact count. But I can try to provide an estimate based on available data and sources.

According to various sources, including lyrics websites and Beatles fan communities, the estimated total word count for all Beatles songs is around 250,000 to 300,000 words.

Here's a rough breakdown:

- John Lennon wrote around 80,000 to 100,000 words

- Paul McCartney wrote around 80,000 to 100,000 words

- George Harrison wrote around 30,000 to 40,000 words

- Ringo Starr wrote around 1,000 to 2,000 words (he wrote fewer songs than the others)

Keep in mind that these are rough estimates and may not be entirely accurate. But I hope this gives you an idea of the total word count for all Beatles songs!

me: wow! thank you so much! [can't believe i thanked the AI here, but whatever, weed had the wheel ok]

meta AI: You're welcome! It was my pleasure to help. I hope you found the estimate helpful. The Beatles have an incredible legacy, and their music has brought joy to so many people around the world. If you have any more questions or need help with anything else, feel free to ask! And remember, "All you need is love..."

anyway, congratulations to me personally for politely bullying an AI to do more work than it initially claimed it was capable of doing. sometimes saying please will actually make the computer do the thing 👍

#ray.txt #meta ai #oops c/p'd one of the quotes twice #fixed it #anyway this is peak weed girl with adhd behaviour and i am fine with it

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justseedee · 1 month ago

Text

Poses I made specifically for TKDB characters

Omg this took forever! but it was fun

This started as an idea I had right after the first Obscuary Episode released. Originally, this was meant to be in a chibi style (but for some reason chibi is just harder for me to draw and I'm not about to pay for the chibi models) where the captains/vice-captains had their "charges" on toddler backpack leashes. I don't think I could make it work in this style, so a few things had to change

Anyhoo...

Haru/Towa and Subaru/Lyca

This is the "original" original idea

Haru and Subaru are kinda like parents taking their toddler to the park

In the back, Towa blowing bubbles with his wand while Lyca plays with them

Tohma/Jin and Rui/Ed

At first this one was going to be similar to the first where Tohma and Rui are complaining to each other about their captians but I decided to make them two separate pics instead

This is one where the chibi style would've been funnier; Jin was going to have his limbs wrapped around a pillar or fence or something, while Ed deadweights on the floor (idk i just couldn't make it work with these models)

So instead Jin smokes and ignores Tohma

Ed hides from Rui

Kaito/Luca and Sho/Leo

I'm grouping these four together because my alternate idea was to have either the captains or the vice-captins have all the other ghouls in their house on leashes (which I still might do) but I figured it'd be easier to start them off as pairs

At first, I was going to set up a scene where Leo pisses off Luca again, but idk it felt weird to me soooo yeah, these are separate now

Also, I just now realized that Kaito is the only one that actually looks like he has a leash (but I refuse to redo any of these.... again. Idk, maybe I'll crop it and make it look like he's grabbing Luca's arm)

Yuri/Jiro

Aah, my (mostly) unproblematic duo decided to take a break from researching inside Mortkrake to reviewing research outside or something idk

There's really not much to say about these dorks, imo Jiro is well trained enough not to need a leash lmao

Romeo/Taiga

Toddler leashes didn't work on Taiga

Neither did regular dog leashes, slip leashes, or barbed leashes

And here is Romeo discovering that shock collars have no affect either lol

It also kinda looks like Romeo just got off a call only to look up and see Taiga eating..... something....

Haku/Zenji

I was going to make a joke here and have Haku by himself, holding one of those invisible dog leashes, but then it made me sad, so I didn't do that

Yeah, idk Zenji is just like a photogenic puppy that smiles at cameras, but only because Haku is holding up treat above the phone

(Another realization I just had is that I switch back and forth between toddler and puppy with these lol different guys different vibes, I guess)

Ren/Ritsu

I wasn't really sure what to do with these two since we don't get a lot of them interacting outside of the diner

I like to think their at least comfortable enough to naturally fall into "parallel play" dynamics

Neither of them gives off outdoorsy vibes, so this can be interpreted as taking place inside the diner

That being said, I was going for a "day at the park" deal, but whatevs

MC/Alan

Okay, so this one literally exists only because I didn't know what to do with Alan after deciding to do pairs, and I didn't want to do any of the characters more than once (because that's not fair!)

Then I realized that the MC is literally right there, so she gets a little lunch date with Mr. Guard Dog over here

Okay less "date" and more "they ran into each other and realized they hadn't eaten, so they got some bentos from the store and decided to eat together" (in my head this is what happened, y'know to make it fair)

Soooooo yeah, it may be a while before i actually get to drawing any of these scenarios, and I'm starting to get sick of staring at my phone because of these

#tokyo debunker #tdb #tkdb #pose reference #drawing reference #a day in the park

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seas-of-silver · 2 months ago

Note

"Alya, we've talked about this hundreds of times - in all our lives we and our friends have never met someone called Marinette Dupain - Cheng - she is just a figment of your twisted imagination!"

‘Alya, we've talked about this hundreds of times - in all our lives we and our friends have never met someone called Marinette Dupain-Cheng - she is just a figment of your twisted imagination!’

Alya barely suppressed a growl as she glared at Nathaniel. ‘“Twisted imagination?” Seriously?’

Chloé scoffed. ‘Yeah, twisted. I mean, honestly - super-powered villains? Magical terrorists and superheroes? Who, by the way, are all animal themed and get their powers from tiny gods in jewellery? Alternate universes and time travel? Ugh! And the bit you’re flipping out about is some chick that supposedly meant to be in this class? Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.’

‘Alya, we’re worried about you,’ Rose said, her wide blue eyes swimming in genuine concern. ‘You’ve been so different this past week; you look and sound and behave like our Alya, but what you’ve been saying is just so unlike yourself!’

‘It’s kinda like you’re living a nightmare in real time, or something,’ Juleka muttered, and the whole class nodded in agreement.

The whole class bar Adrien and Marinette.

Alya was smart. She had figured out something was seriously wrong when she woke up last week and found herself in her room instead of Marinette’s, where she had been sleeping over. It became even more concerning when she arrived at school and Marinette was nowhere in sight. Then she had started to panic when the seating arrangement was different, Adrien wasn’t at school either, and worst of all - Nino barely knew her.

She spent the first class trying to casually enquire about Adrien and Marinette, which led to confused responses and almost getting reprimanded by Ms Bustier, who was still their teacher and had apparently never had a child, and Chloé’s father was still Mayor of Paris.

One reassuring discovery Alya had made before lunchtime was that Adrien Agreste still existed in this weird world, but had apparently never been to their school. She also discovered that Lila Rossi had also never been to their school, but that good news was quickly soured when she found out that Lila now has strong ties to the Agreste family, and was frequently seen with them. But that didn’t stop Alya from trying to contact Adrien, though she had no success.

Alya had then started to research, and kept researching throughout the week. This weird world had no mention of recent Miraculous use; no Hawk Moth, Mayura, Ladybug or Chat Noir, and nothing of note in Shanghai or New York. Her Ladyblog was also non-existent, which was discomforting in and of itself. And there was no Marinette.

That was the part Alya was struggling to grasp. No Marinette? A world without Miraculouses was something Alya could wrap her head around, as was a reality where Adrien never went to their school, but no Marinette? So she had researched that too. Everything Alya had expected to exist were also missing - the sunglasses and album cover (and subsequent magazine article) Marinette made for Jagged Stone; Marinette’s winning submission in the derby hat competition held by Gabriel Agreste and the runway show it was displayed in; her fashion photoshoot she did with Adrien and Juleka… none of it could be found.

Alya knew this was no dream that she had found herself in - this felt more like some sort of akuma attack-related displacement… but Alya couldn’t remember there being an akuma attack while she was in Marinette’s room. The last thing Alya had remembered before waking up in this weird world was setting up for a girl’s night in while Marinette went on patrol with Chat Noir, as the new Butterfly villain, Malachite, had been annoyingly active as of recent. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

And now all her friends and classmates were looking at her like she was the weird one. Perhaps she was, at least to them.

‘You’re right, Juleka,’ Alya said sombrely, ‘this is a nightmare. Either I’ve somehow ended up in an alternate universe, or something god-awful must’ve happened for the whole world to forget about the Miraculouses in Paris, for Adrien to never have come to school here, for my own boyfriend to barely know me apart from just being one of his classmates, and for my best friend - a girl who meant so much to nearly everyone in this room - to completely vanish off the face of the earth!’

Everyone flinched at her raised voice, but she didn’t care. She was too angry, too confused, and too hurt to care about something as minor as that.

‘I- ugh! I feel like I’m going insane!’ Alya cried out, her eyes starting to sting. ‘I know what has happened here - I’ve lived it! I was a part of it! You all were part of it! But why don’t you remember? Why does no one remember? Ugh, it’s like, I don’t know, like someone’s messed with reality and gotten rid of any trace of Marinette and the Mira…cu…lou…ses…’

Alya felt violently ill. How could she have not thought of that? It all made perfect sense. But if that was really true, then Malachite must have…

‘Oh, God,’ Alya whimpered, sinking to the ground unsteadily.

The class bin suddenly appeared in front of her, just in the nick of time, and a kind, familiar hand held her hair back.

‘Can someone get the nurse or Ms Bustier?’ Nino’s voice came from right beside her. ‘She’s not doing good.’

People moved around her, but Alya could barely take it in. Her mind was overloaded with fear and horror. She needed to prove this horrific theory wrong.

‘Shh,’ came Nino’s voice again, his other hand starting to rub soothing circles on her back. ‘You’re not well, dude, and you’re shaking.’

She couldn’t dwell on that for long, as a loud commotion was happening outside and getting closer. Fear spiking within her, Alya forced herself to stand and get into a fighting position, ignoring Nino’s protests. She wasn’t going to lose anyone else, not without a fight.

The door slammed open, and Alya hesitated.

‘Alya? Thank goodness!’ Adrien cried, looking disheveled and winded. ‘I got your letters - you remember too?’

Her hands wavered. ‘Yeah. What do you remember?’

‘Oh, finally!’ Adrien exclaimed, relieved. ‘I thought I was going insane when I woke up to find Mother and Father alive and Lila-‘ he growled out, as if saying the name was like ash on his tongue, ‘-of all people was now a long-time family friend, which is revolting. But no one knows about the Miraculouses or Ladybug and Chat Noir or Hawk Moth or Malachite or akumas or anything!’

Alya wanted to cry - out of relief or grief, she wasn’t sure.

‘And you!’ Adrien said, pointing at Nino. ‘You hung up on me!’

Nino blinked. ‘So… that wasn’t a prank call?’

Adrien looked mortified. ‘You’ve… you’ve forgotten me? For real?’

Nino opened and closed his mouth, looking entirely uncertain about anything that was going on.

‘I was sure that you would remember me,’ Adrien continued, shaken, before looking back at Alya. ‘I tried to call everyone that I could remember the numbers of, but even Marinette isn’t picking up!’

Alya felt sick again at the mention of her name.

‘Surely you were able to get in contact with her,’ Adrien pleaded, putting his hands on her shoulders. ‘I’ve been stuck under Father’s and Lila’s thumbs for this past week, and I was only able to escape just now.’

With Adrien so close, she could see the anxiety, desperation and fear that was threatening to consume him.

‘Please, Alya,’ he begged, ‘please tell me you found her and she’s okay. She’s in danger, and I need to ensure she’s safe.’

All Alya could do was shake her head. She felt Adrien’s hands tremble and saw his eyes fill with tears as he began to hyperventilate, before he crumbled to the floor and let out a soul-crushing cry that shattered her heart.

#bad ending #Malachite is the name I came up with for Lila's Butterfly Villain name #what I didn't mention but implied was that Malachite attacked Ladynoir while they were on patrol #and because they were fatigued from the onslaught of akumas and because Lila is a far more competent villain she got their Miraculouses #so they had a forced identity reveal because of it #Lila's wish was to undo Miraculous happenings in Paris so that Hawk Moth never happened and to erase Marinette's existence entirely #but because Lila is evil there's a glitch in her wish where everyone who knew Marinette was Ladybug could remember that she existed #(I know that isn't the best of reasonings but I'm rolling with it)#miraculous ladybug #ml #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrinette #adrienette #ladybug #chat noir #seasofsilver writes #ladynoir #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #chloe bourgeois #nathaniel kurtzberg #rose lavillant #juleka couffaine #akuma class #angst #lila rossi #first sentence then scene #anon ask #ask game

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howtofightwrite · 2 years ago

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Professional Monster Removal

So, you've been hired to clear out a monster (or monsters) infesting a building in (or around) a modern city. What do you do?

The first problem is that you can't trust what your client tells you. Not in the sense that you think they're intentionally lying to you, but rather, they don't know what they're talking about.

If they tell you it's a vampire, that's basically meaningless. As myths go, vampires are more of a catch all for a staggering number of monsters from folklore, and while you wouldn't want to deal with most of those critters, your options for disposing of them (or even identifying where they are in the building, and assessing how dangerous they are) are far more picky. It's a bit like working as a normal exterminator and when you ask what the client needs removed they only offer, “it's furry.” Yeah, that's not helping anyone, buddy.

Werewolves aren't much better. The modern bipedal wolf monster is basically a Hollywood invention, dating back to the mid-20th century. There's absolutely no folklore support for it. That doesn't mean that in your world that flavor of nine-foot tall snarling deathbeast isn't a reality, but it's going to be hard to research. More often, werewolves were humans who took the form of a wolf, usually through some form of magical ritual. Knowing what that ritual is would be critical to identifying and eliminating them. Of course, this does come with the problem of leaving behind a very human looking body (in some cases), and that could be an entirely different problem, depending on exactly how well job is.

If they tell you it's a demon, that's almost more worthless than telling you it's a vampire. First off, there is no way to know that they've actually got a demon, and not just some random spirit. If they do have a demon, I hope you've brushed up on your advanced theology, because this is going to get extraordinarily messy. And, there's a very real danger that whatever you've run into has the capacity for completely unmaking small parts of reality. Or it could just be an unusually malicious house cat. Really, demon is even more of a catch all term for, “something we don't understand, but we're pretty sure it scares us.”

If it's fairies? Run. Just run. You're not getting paid enough for this, they can have their deposit back. It'll be fine. They're smarter than they look, and way more malicious and vindictive than you realize.

Just walking away is also pretty good advice for any esoteric, “list of rules,” you may get handed. Sometimes, this is pretty obvious safety considerations, like don't wander around in darkened rooms while the critter is loose, but when you start seeing things like keeping to a schedule, that's a very good sign that, either, whatever you're dealing with is sophisticated enough that some simple rituals and a catch pole will not get the job done. Or, alternately, someone (probably your client) is using you as bait, or planning to feed you to the critter. This overlaps pretty strongly with the warning about fairies above, the Venn diagram isn't a perfect circle, but there's a lot of overlap.

Now, this doesn't mean you should ignore your client, but it does mean, you're going to need to do a lot of footwork after they hire you. This is not the fun kind of research. If they say vampires, you're going to need to be conversant in the many, many, vampire myths throughout human history. Sometimes you can shoot them. Sometimes you need silver and garlic. Amusing, on the cliché of, “forget all you know about vampires...” there is one element of folklore that actually doesn't exist; vampires don't need your permission to enter a dwelling. Now, a lot of vampires are extremely obsessive compulsive (yeah, this is the hilarious moment where you realize Sesame Street's Count has a legitimate grounding in folklore), so, they may want that invitation for psychological reasons, but it's not a mystical barrier that will protect you. Get them angry enough and they will forget themselves, cross the threshold, and rip you to pieces. (Though, in some cases, churches and temples may repel them. It goes with the holy symbols thing in general.)

That said, the holy symbols isn't specifically a vampiric vulnerability, more just a general ward against monsters, when it pops up. So, this is one to be very cautious of, but it can be useful in a lot of situations if you're receptive to that.

When you're doing your initial walk through, of the residence, keep an eye out for certain tells. You'll pick this up with practice. The direct signs of the critter are always nice, but finding secondary evidence of regarding the site's residents shouldn't be ignored. Keep an eye out for large amounts of esoterica, evidence of objects having been recently removed from the site (or recently added to it), evidence of ritualistic practices (often these will originate from the human residents themselves, rather than the critter, but, obviously, that's not always the case), and other anomalies. You're not just looking for tufts of fur, or forensic evidence, you also need to know why the critter is there.

So, you've identified your pest, hopefully. Under the best possible circumstances, you should now have a roadmap for dealing with these things. Here's the bad news, in some cases, that won't actually give you any tools to deal with it. A distressing amount of folklore will tell you how to avoid dealing with the critter in the first place but then washes its hands of what to do after the critter has been provoked.

Worse, and more frustratingly, folklore will sometimes give you bad information. Yeah, the biggest problem with folklore is, the more dangerous the critter, the less reliable your information will be. If someone offers you to clear out a nest of crawlers, my advice would be to not do it alone, and don't get too attached to the people you work with. There is no reliable folklore on those things, and 99% of the, “lore,” that does exist is internet fiction, written by people trying to spook each other out. As for sifting out that last one-in-a-hundred? Good luck.

This brushes against a related topic, you cannot trust research you pull off the internet. Obviously, things are a little different when you're digging through well documented myths, but when you start getting into more esoteric topics, the signal to noise ratio hops off a cliff. This doesn't mean the internet is useless, it can be useful for a brief overview (if you have the time to sort things out), and of course it's amazing for communicating with your colleagues. However, expect that when you need to dig into local folklore, you're going to need to spend time in the city's libraries, digging through books no one cares enough to scan and post online. For the most part, newspapers have been saved and uploaded, though if you're in the middle of nowhere, you might run into a small town paper that hasn't kept up to date.

So, what do you need to do? Remember that your job is to remove the errant critter from the site, not necessarily kill it. (Try to avoid those stipulations when you can. It can result in really unfortunate situations when you're dealing with something that literally cannot die.) Prioritize elimination in cases where the creature cannot be moved, or will return to the site regardless what you do, but remember you're getting paid to remove it, not to play hero, and you're certainly not getting paid enough to die over a spelling error in someone's circle of protection.

This brushes against a (hopefully) rare problem; amateurs. Yeah, it doesn't matter how much research you do, if your perfectly baited trap gets trampled by some bumpkins who broke in with shotguns and flashlights because they heard some monster was on the loose. Mercifully, these guys are a self-solving problem more often than not. If the critter kills them, then they're not your problem. In some rare cases, amateurs can even be useful, either as bait, or as a new vessel to get the critter off the site and make it a problem for someone else. If that sounds callous, remember that between their poor trigger discipline, misplaced hero complex, and unpredictability, they're more dangerous to you than the monster you're trying to evict. Sure, a century old specter that preys on hope is going to be harder to kill, but these guys are just dumb enough to shoot you in the head if you startle them. Or if they get it in their heads, somehow, that you're the one responsible for the infestation in the first place.

If you're, “lucky,” enough to get repeat business, that's probably a bad thing and the client is not going to be happy about it. In these specific cases, (assuming it's actually a new critter, and not a case where the original one wandered home after being released somewhere distant), your priority changes to identifying what brought the creature back here. Some critters are extremely territorial, and will return home no matter what you do (these are times when you really do need to find a way to permanently eliminate it.) However, if various critters of the same variety found the place appealing, presumably independently of one another, then you need to identify why. Again, this going to take some research, and you might even need to bring in a specialist (if you have access to one.) These kinds of situations can be really frustrating because the client is likely to be pissed with you over the new infestation, and believe its due to your incompetence, not because they didn't disclose critical information the first time round.

Checking city records regarding the place, even land claims and the history of a place become significantly more important on a return visit. (Now, if you're being thorough, you should have checked this the first time, and sometimes you'll even have time to, but if we're being honest, that stuff is rarely relevant, and you won't often have the time to dig through city records.) On the bright side, in the 21st century, a lot of those kinds of records are now available online, and free, so the days of wandering around in some sub-basement of city hall are (mostly) a thing of the past.

This is just napkin math, but figure that about one in four infestations can be traced back to a human cause. Either someone moved into the critter's territory and it's trying to drive them out, someone did something “very bad” and now they have a critter focused on them, or (worst of all), someone deliberately brought the critter here, lost control of it, and now wants you to remove it. The first two can result in repeat business if you simply remove (or even eliminate) the infestation, first time around. The third can also result in repeat business as well, but with a critical tell, the client's going to be fine with bringing you back. This isn't necessarily a red flag, but it is something to be cautious of.

Note that, in cases where the critter is focused on hunting down a specific individual, it may be in your best interest to simply stay out of its way. Actively helping the creature is a major liability risk, as you'll now be implicated in their death, but again, your job was to remove the creature from the site, and if that's accomplished, you can point to your contract and move on with your day. Similarly, getting in the critter's way can be a very bad idea. That said, there's no guarantee the critter will voluntarily leave after it's managed to satisfy whatever's driving it. So, this becomes just one more consideration you need to weigh.

So, what do you do? Pay attention to the details, identify the critter, use that information to formulate a plan, and never forget that you're not getting paid to die on the job.

-Starke

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#How to Fight Write #Writing advice #writing reference #writing horror #writing urban fantasy

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