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zeta-in-de-walls · 4 years ago

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Tommy and the role of ‘hero’

Hey, this little essay is discussing how Tommy’s character has struggled with being called a hero and hows it’s been a significant part of his character arc for Season 2 of the SMP. It’s not a title he ever gave himself yet it’s a title he’s burdened with all the same.

Funnily enough, I don’t recall Tommy ever being called a hero before Technoblade’s damning speech on Nov 16th, where he compared Tommy to Theseus.

Tommy you just did a coup. You just did a hostile Government takeover and then immediately instilled yourself as President. And then you gave it to your friend but that’s still a tyrant Tommy.

But the thing about this world Tommy, is that good things don’t happen to heroes. Let me tell you a story Tommy, a story of a man called Theseus. His country, well his City-State technically, was in danger and he sent himself forward into enemy lines. He slayed the Minotaur and saved his city. You know what they did to him Tommy? (”What did they do?”) They exiled him. He died in disgrace, despised by his people. That’s what happens to heroes Tommy. The Greeks knew the score. But if you want to be a hero Tommy, that’s fine.

Do you want to be a hero, Tommy? Then die like one!

Technoblade’s speech is a frustrating one at first. It begins by essentially calling Tommy a power hungry tyrant despite that being far from the truth - Wilbur was the one who formed the Government and Tommy rejected power. He trusted it to Wilbur who then chose Tubbo. Schlatt wasn’t even killed by Tommy, he died of a heart attack after being abandoned by every one of his allies so it wasn’t even really much of a takeover at all and it wasn’t Tommy. Yet this speech was entirely directed at Tommy.

But the latter half is different, accusing Tommy instead of trying to be a hero who thinks he’s saving the world and that he’s doomed to have a bad end. It’s interesting as never has Tommy claimed to be much of a hero. Tommy’s always just fought for the things he cared about. Indeed his response to Techno’s speech suggests the same.

“I’m not the hero. No one’s the hero! We’ve got L’Manburg for each other.”

But of course, Techno’s words stick with him all the same. Particularly the bit about a tragic end as Tommy becomes very, very aware of his own mortality in the arcs that follow. To Techno, a hero seems to be a naive figure who tries to do good but is destined for failure and tragedy.

But there’s another path Tommy fears even more. One that he’s witnessed firsthand. Becoming the villain.

Let’s be the bad guys. Tommy, why not? Our nation’s gone. our nation’s far behind us, Tommy. Let’s blow that motherf*cker to smithereens. Tommy, I say if we can’t have Manburg, no one - no one can have Manburg! ...L’Manburg.

This is a new era! We burn the place to the f*ckin ground, I want no crops to grow there ever again. I want f*ckin mycelium and cobblestone, it all covered, Tommy. I want it all gone!

Tommy, let’s be villains.

Wilbur was Tommy’s hero. He loved Wilbur dearly and wanted nothing more than to be a good right-hand to him and make him proud. But when they lost L’Manburg and were banished, Tommy saw Wilbur changing, saw him giving up home and deciding he’d rather destroy the thing they’d worked for and blow it all up. After Wilbur made this speech, Tommy argued, making it clear he was entirely against his plans. Even saying that it wasn’t the moral thing to do. He said not to give up hope, that everyone wasn’t against them and that Wilbur’s ideas were reckless. But he stayed with Wilbur and continued to support him, hoping that he could convince him to change his mind. Tommy failed. And Wilbur died.

So, the Tommy at the start of S2 just wants to go back to his old life, a simpler time where he doesn’t have to worry about L’Manburg anymore as it’s in safe hands and he can focus on his personal concerns once more - like his music discs. He doesn’t want to be a hero or a villain, he merely wants to be happy again in a world without Wilbur.

But there’s someone else watching him. Dream.

I think it’s no coincidence that Dream wanted Tommy exiled by his own people. I think he was deliberately trying to make Techno’s speech into a reality. Dream had become rather obsessed with Tommy and treated all their interactions like a fun game where he played the villain and Tommy, the hero. It’s not a narrative Tommy himself liked but all he could do was play along.

Dream had him exiled and this seriously pushed Tommy to his limits. On the first day, Techno briefly visited and asked him why he was still trying and he answered that he always gets back up and he would keep on fighting Dream. But as his exile progressed he slowly lost his will to fight. Slowly Tommy stopped believing that his exile would ever come to an end and that people still cared.

In exile Tommy had a lot of time for reflection. Here’s something Tommy says days into his exile when he’s begun to lose all hope and is starting to accept that maybe Dream’s his only friend.

Everyone always tells me I was the- the hero of this server. The one that came and f*ckin fought Dream - the only one that ever spoke back to him. But maybe I was just... maybe this was just meant to be.

Tommy’s got complicated feelings about being a hero. To him it means standing up to Dream, never giving up - that’s what he believed people expected of him. But in his exile, he began to give in to Dream. He begins to express how no one cares and that the only reason they ever pretended to care was when he had status - when he was part of L’Manburg. There’s this implication that he felt like people only cared about him when he was being the selfless hero. When he was trying to be selfish for once, causing trouble like he used to and wanting to focus on his personal disc war rather than on L’Manburg, he got exiled. (Of course, this is Tommy’s biased perspective not how others actually viewed him.)

Tommy eventually escaped his exile, finding renewed courage to fight against Dream. Except, he’s still scared and uncertain and feels confused about Dream. He feels lost and clings onto Technoblade for support.

With Technoblade, Tommy starts to feel more like himself - but Techno also influences Tommy, turning him more against his friends. (I think Techno’s character genuinely thought they didn’t truly care about Tommy, likely not realising how much they had also been manipulated by Dream.) Technoblade gently encourages Tommy to be more violent and wants him to help blow up L’Manburg.

This is where Tommy’s fear about becoming more like Wilbur come into play. Tommy did not want to become a bad guy - he’d had nightmares about it even. But in his time with Technoblade, after how helpless he’d been during his exile, being given some power lead Tommy to start lashing out more violently, he began to get more aggressive - alarmingly so even. Technoblade’s path was one of revenge, dealing with his own pain by causing others to suffer (for noble goals, fighting corruption etc I don’t want to get sidetracked though this is about Tommy). Technoblade’s presence was helpful to Tommy, helping him to get over much of his fear but he still lacked in agency and still felt lonely knowing he hadn’t made up with his friends.

Tommy finally came to his senses at the festival, where he realised he was fighting his best friend and putting his personal attachments - his discs - over Tubbo. And that was wrong. He realised he was becoming just the sort of person he didn’t want to be - he had been on the path to becoming like Wilbur. And he rejected that path. He wasn’t going to be a bad guy. Just because he was hurt didn’t justify hurting others. So he reconciled and once more committed to protecting L’Manburg, having put his personal desires aside. It seemed like he’d put himself into the role of selfless hero yet again.

And he failed. Again.

Dream tells him how it was a fun game to him. And how their story was not over. Tommy though, had become extremely tired of it. He didn’t want to play Dream’s game.

They meet up again. And again, Dream talks to Tommy like he’s important - like he’s the key to everything. He wants Tommy to play the role of hero and has been manipulating events for a long time to keep pushing him, to keep taking things from him. Being a hero, which Dream believes Tommy wants, simply means playing along with Dream’s narrative.

Tommy, you want to be a hero, right? You want to be the hero of the server. And every hero needs an origin story, right? Batman had his parents, Spiderman had uncle Ben, you have Tubbo, right?

In the end, Tommy refuses to play Dream’s game anymore though. He called for help and got saved by everyone else. Then he killed Dream twice and had him locked away for good.

And once more, Tommy decided to do things for himself again. He decided to live peacefully, working on a project, talking to various people on the server and trying to avoid making waves and getting into any more conflict. It’s a good end.

He rejected Wilbur’s path and he defied Technoblade’s predictions and he didn’t lose his best friend to Dream. And now Tommy’s trying to avoid playing the role of hero anymore. It’s not a title he ever gave himself but one thrust upon him. Yet it’s one he’s keenly aware of. And one that, despite everything, he can fulfil.

Tommy’s arc has been in some respects about defying the expectations of others - but he also can’t help but fight for the things he loves. He realises his troubles were not that his friends didn’t care or that he had to play a role but that his life was being controlled by Dream and now he’s free of that. No longer is he so weighed down by expectations but when there is a sufficiently threatening enemy, he has not lost his determination to challenge it.

#tommyinnit #meta #analysis #uh feel like i didn't have a great conclusion #anyway i love tommy's character #and his arc has been great this season #i especially appreciated how the exile arc really showed another side to his character #and dream's a great antagonist #driving much of this conflict #dream smp #exile arc #i didn't really talk much about love and attachments which are also impornant to understanding his character this season #and also his grief and thoughts on death #anyway this is about tommy not techno or dream or wilbur so i'm not analysing their actions except in regards to how they affected tommy #but feel free to add or correct me on anything #cheers!#the disc war

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fandombead · 2 years ago

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aaaa weLL— BIG SPOILER WARNING XD

Once upon a time there was a Gaster who wanted the best life for his 2 sons (X!Chara and X!Frisk) and he basically went too far trying to create the perfect world for them. What was once a well-intended project became experimenting with people’s lives and it corrupted him. This is called the X-Event. He used the “OVERWRITE” power to keep rewriting their au, wanting it to be “perfect” and nothing less. The boys grew to resent him— and X!Gaster grew weaker because of the magic it took (I can’t remember if anything specific triggered it)

Cross [in the final timeline they stopped on] is a royal guard who helps protect the boys and keep them safe, and is X!Chara’s best friend~ while Frisk is more resigned to their fate against Gaster, Chara is actively trying to defy him after Gaster kept resetting them back to childhood and erasing their lives over and over, resetting the memories of everyone but the 3 of them. The short of it is Gaster takes control of their friends to make everyone hate the boys and teach them a lesson, and Chara acts out from the brutal timelines; he also starts to realize that Gaster is weaker than he used to be. So Gaster tries to overwrite their friends again.

Chara tried to get Cross on his side to help take down Gaster and tells him everything going on; but Cross lashes out and just wants everything back to how it was and to not be controlled by anyone (I think?); so he kills everyone with the idea of getting control of the Overwrite button from Gaster (bc they were all protecting Gaster still under G’s control).

(maybe someone can explain it better than me bc I think I got confused with this episode 😅)

Anyway, Gaster never really died bc during Underverse we learn that he talked a lot with ink before he was completely corrupt and ink was “sympathetic” to his Cause of creating a better life for the boys~ Gaster gave half his soul to ink in a vial to preserve himself (maybe that’s why he got sick idk tbh XD aaa maybe some UV theorists will know). And so Ink keeps this vial for him.

Cross tho destroyed his entire AU and actually cannot use the overwrite button at all to bring them back (and his soul merged with Chara’s. So he’s fighting for control of his own body with them) so he’s trapped in a white void that used to be his home. One day Ink comes back one day to talk to Gaster but sees that it’s all gone now. So he keeps cross company and visits him often and is a genuine friend to him, but Cross gets upset when Ink says he cannot bring Cross‘s AU or family back. So Cross makes a deal with Nightmare who finds him because of his despair.

And Cross gets the power to basically snatch parts of other AUs trying to recreate the foundations for his own. This kickstarts the plot of the main Underverse story where everyone is trying to stop the X-Event. Error and Ink have a deal to not create or destroy anything, but Ink is pushing it with all he’s doing— Ink is torn about continuing to help X!Gaster bc it’s an old friend and Ink fears being forgotten; he wants to help Gaster, who was a friend to him and who he thought was a like-minded being. He even goes so far as to stop taking his paints which imitate a SOUL for him (he’s soulless, ripped his soul out to escape his unfinished AU) so that the emotions don’t make him regret committing to helping X!Gaster, who he essentially resurrects! He’s struggling with that battle and being able to help/be important for people to not forget him (bc he was forgotten by his own creator in his lore, he fears being alone and forgotten). I’m honestly interested in what Jakei does for his storyline~

And meanwhile Cross is battling with keeping control of himself and learning to trust others again and to not continue to hate himself for what he did. He feels horrible all the time and is fighting that feeling back with Nightmare manipulating him and him trying to escape that in later episodes.

There is a lot more detailed stuff going on with all these characters and relations that are just soooo good to see, fights that are so damn cool and worth watching! I think a new episode will be coming pretty soon, bc jakei announced being in post production rn with sound and stuff (animation is done). So that’s exciting! I’m almost certain I missed some key stuff but this is what I recall ‘XD Others May fill in or correct pieces, but! That’s the gist of this story!! Hope it helps!

GUYS

SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME THE UNDERVERSE LORE

I LOVE ART AND COMICS OF CROSS BUT I DON'T EVEN TRULY KNOW WHO HE IS

I DON'T HAVE ENOUGH FREE TIME TO WATCH THE SERIES AS MUCH AS I WANT TO

PLEASE

#underverse spoilers #undertale au #xtale #xtale spoilers #jakei

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years ago

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Stalker X Stalker, Part 11

First

Perma tag: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever @toodaloo-kangaroo

Plot? What's that? I only know domestic fluff

She really didn’t know what to think when Tim asked to move in for a second time the next morning.

On the one hand, it felt like she was taking advantage of him. He’d seen her get shot and she doubted he’d really thought rationally since.

On the other hand… he essentially lived there already and it would do a lot to alleviate the anxiety the both of them had...

She rubbed her eyes -- ha, as if she hadn’t been awake the whole night to make sure he hadn’t had nightmares -- for an excuse to look away while she thought. What should she do? She would be lying if she said she didn’t want him to move in, she knew that was clouding her judgement, but even if she recognized her bias it wasn’t easy to just put it aside.

She sighed lightly and lowered a hand from her eyes. Tim looked really cute after having just woken up with his hair all messy and his eyes half lidded and one of his cheeks slightly flatter where he’d been resting his head against her and who can really say no to that face?

… well, Marinette supposed that would allow both of them to relax a little...

She let her hands drop to rest on top of his.

“Sure, darling. If you want you can move in… but, if you ever want to move out, I won’t stop you. Just ask.”

He cracked a tiny smile. “The only time I’d ever move out of this place is if you were changing apartments.”

She snickered. “Where I go, you go?”

“You have no idea,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “You bats and your dumb cryptic sentences. Would it kill you guys to ever say a single thing directly?”

“Yes. I’m pretty sure that I would drop dead on the spot.”

Her lips twitched. “Oh yeah? Heart attack or sniper?”

“Can’t tell you. I would drop dead on the spot.”

“Damn. Foiled again by the… mystery cause of death!”

The smile on Tim’s face brightened and he looped his arms around her. “You’d save me.”

“Oh? And miss out on my chance to get that rich boy money you probably gave me in your will?”

He schooled his face back into a serious look. “I see. I’ll have to write you out of my will, then. Make sure you bring me back.”

“Nooooooooo! My scheme! Ruined! Now how will I become a millionaire without trying?!”

They looked at each other for a few seconds, his face purposefully smug and hers pinched into a frown…

And then they broke character, giggles falling from their lips and smiles lighting up their faces. She tipped her head forward until it rested against his chest. He squeezed her tighter.

Then, to her surprise, he flopped back on the couch, pulling her with him. “Alright, sleepy time,” he said cheerfully.

“Darling --.”

“You didn’t sleep last night. Sleep.”

She pressed against his chest until she could sit up just enough to glare at him. “I have super strength. May not be as strong as Connor or anything but I can definitely get away from you if I wanted.”

“Of course.” A smug look made its way across his face. “But you wouldn’t hurt your darling, would you?”

She glared harder despite the slight reddening of her cheeks. His smirk didn’t waver.

Marinette huffed and dropped back down. “You’re the worst.”

“You love me.”

She didn’t respond to that, instead just grumbling ‘pillows don’t talk’ and letting herself finally nod off.

Having two perfectionists trying to figure out the layout of a limited living space might not have been their brightest idea. They should have, at least, gotten someone to help.

Instead they had brought out Marinette’s tape measure and mapped out the entire apartment on a sheet of paper and then made tiny shapes for the furniture. Now, they sat at the table, obsessively moving pieces around.

It could have been worse, of course. Neither of them were the type to hoard things. He wasn’t all that concerned with anything other than his clothes and his laptop. Marinette only cared about her clothes, video games, and baking tools -- all of which could be tucked away in the provided closets and cabinets with ease. If needed they could probably get by with nothing but a dresser and a pull out bed each.

So, yeah, their own personal living styles weren’t the problem…

It was their work. Who knew their workaholic tendencies would be their downfall (besides everyone, of course)? She needed a lot of space for her fabrics and mannequins to make sure nothing got damaged. Tim would need a lot of space for his supercomputer if he didn’t want to make the long trip to Bristol every night.

Speaking of the trip to Bristol! He needed a place to put his motorbike and his suit. Shit. He could find a place to park his bike if he tried, but… he started cutting out a piece for the suit.

Marinette saw him adding more stuff and her head hit the table.

He snickered a little and poked her hair until she, however reluctantly, picked her head back up to send him a halfhearted glare. He smiled, reaching over and plucking the tiny square of paper from where it had stuck itself to her forehead. A blush spread across her cheeks.

Then she happened to glance down and her annoyance was back in full force.

“We didn’t think this through,” she said.

His smile became more strained as he looked down at their map. “Moving sounds so easy on paper.”

“Maybe it’s easier for people who don’t have such complicated lives.”

“Yeah. You’re right. I’m quitting.”

“Aw, but then I’ll lose my patrol buddy! I’ll have to do everything with your siblings instead.”

His nose scrunched up. “God, no. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please, you love your siblings.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t know they’re the worst.”

She looked like she was going to argue, but then she tipped her head and nodded. “True.”

He snickered.

Their smiles disappeared quickly as they looked back at the layout of the apartment. Could they even fit all their stuff?

… wait, actually, could they?

He started shuffling things in and he realized that, if they wanted to have space to walk, there wasn’t enough room. No wonder they’d had so much trouble finding a layout that would work. It was literally impossible. They needed more space.

She hesitated slightly. “... what if we bought out the apartment next to this one for work? It could even double as a backup in case you ever decide you want to have a place of your own again.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Can we do that?”

“You’re rich, you could probably figure it out.”

He rolled his eyes. “I mean, yes, we can technically kick out the people next door but I’d kind of prefer if we didn’t displace random families.”

“I mean… we could always…” She made a stabbing motion.

He couldn’t laugh at that. Laughing at that would be bad. So he wouldn’t do that.

“Bean -- Mari -- no.”

“I’m just saying! We’d even get the apartment at a discount!”

Okay, he might have laughed a little.

… they didn’t end up stabbing anyone but, hey, if the family next door happened to get some huge scholarship courtesy of The Wayne Foundation that they didn’t remember applying for with the stipulation that they would have to move districts... then they just so happened to have a lucky break. Good for them.

Which meant that they only really needed to buy a desk, a dresser, and a bed.

So they went to Ikea! A boring place where no shenanigans ever happen!

… well, no shenanigans ever happen if you’re not a pair of vigilantes that bounce bad ideas off of each other like they were playing a particularly intense game of Don’t Let The Balloon Touch The Ground and the entire world would blow up if they dared to lose.

Speaking of things that touch the ground, the resident dumbasses should probably have kept their feet firmly planted on it.

Marinette squinted down the escalator. “Oh, they’re definitely going to kick us out.”

“Definitely,” he agreed.

“Maybe arrested.”

“Maybe that, too,” he said brightly, checking the pot over his head to make sure it wouldn’t come off.

“... the PR team is going to hate us,” she warned him.

“Absolutely.” He could feel the gaze on the back of his head, telling him that the employees had noticed them and, quite likely, knew what they were planning. “Ready?”

A grin spread across her face. “Of course.”

He smirked. “Good, because they’re coming.”

She glanced back at the employees making their way over to interfere.

“Threetwoonego!”

He pushed off with his foot, relishing in her indignant yelp, and grinned widely as he started the very bumpy ride that was snowboarding down an escalator. He’d thought he’d be more or less okay because he had been a skateboarder but it turns out that boarding down moving stairs is very different from boarding down flat planes. He let loose a string of curses as he struggled to hold the plank of wood to his feet and not die a very painful, very stupid death.

Marinette came whizzing past him, eyes wide and the tray she’d been using as a board somehow missing.

She met his eyes briefly and flashed a grin.

And then they crashed.

It was about as painful as one would expect. Tim was glad that he’d thought to give himself a pot-helmet-thing because it had cracked down the middle and he didn’t even want to think about what would have happened if he hadn’t done that.

And he was the lucky one. He got out with a few bruises and a better appreciation for his own life. Marinette was nursing an arm that looked like it was trying to imitate the escalator they had just slid down, lips pressed together tightly as tears threatened to escape.

He carefully crawled over to check for any other injuries that might have been less noticeable.

She grinned up at him, either because he was currently checking to see if her teeth were all in place or to be smug. What she could currently be smug about, though, he had no clue…

“You’re so stupid,” he told her, just in case she wasn’t already aware.

Her smug grin remained even after he had removed the finger from her mouth. “You’re just mad that I won.”

“... sorry?” He hadn’t even been thinking about their impromptu race, too concentrated on the whole ‘making sure they hadn’t just died’ thing, and it took a moment for his brain to catch up. Then he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, won a pretty new cast, maybe.”

She snickered. “You had to cheat and you still didn’t even win. How does it feel to suck?”

“Probably still better than it feels to have a broken arm.”

She sat up. “It’s fine, I’ll live.”

He snorted. “You bet you will. I’m going to bubble wrap the whole apartment.”

“You can’t babyproof the place! We don’t even have kids yet!”

Before he could question her use of the word ‘yet’, the employees managed to get their attention. They were trying to get down the currently very broken escalator and the one that was currently going the wrong way for them. Despite this, the two of them had only a minute max before they reached them.

Marinette and Tim locked eyes.

“Run?” She suggested.

He was already getting to his feet. He dropped a business card for the employees and turned to her.

He grabbed her good hand and they sprinted out of the store, smiles lighting up their faces and laughter spilling from their lips. The poor employees hadn’t stood a chance of catching the two vigilantes, even injured as they were. They knew the city like the back of their hands and were able to weave in and out of side streets and alleyways without much thought.

Once they were sure that no one was following them -- leaving a store unattended in Gotham was a terrible idea and Tim had left a card for them to call -- she tugged him to hide between two buildings.

They squeezed into the tiny space and leaned into each other for support while they struggled to catch their breath. Her good hand came up to grip his shirt. He rested his forehead against the wall above her.

She lifted her gaze to his and he wished she hadn’t because he’d already been out of breath enough before she’d done that but now here was staring into her blue eyes, the corners crinkled in a way that had become so familiar to him over the past few months, and god… all he could think about was all the stories that described how time stopped when you fell in love… and how those stories couldn’t be more wrong. He would have hated for that to happen because if time stopped then he would have to see that perfect smile of hers in anything but real time and he doubted that it would have looked nearly as beautiful without the way her shoulders shook with barely restrained laughter or the slight fluttering of her lashes or the steady pinkening of her cheeks.

She finally gave a little puff of laughter. “What?”

He blinked once, trying to bring himself back to what was going on. “Oh, I was just thinking…”

“Oh? Don’t strain yourself.”

He smiled. “I was just going to say something nice but instead I’ll insult you on your stealth. You’d be a terrible criminal, laughing during your getaway.”

She rolled her eyes. “You laughed, too.”

“Yeah, but when I did it it was super cool and professional.”

“Ah, I see. How could I not have noticed it before?”

He snickered. “Well, if today has proved anything, it’s that you are not, in fact, the world’s greatest detective.”

She grinned. “You were the one that put the pot on my head originally.”

“You came up with the idea to go down the escalators like that.”

“You agreed.”

“You -- I -- shut up,” he complained, sending her a glare.

She smiled at him until he pretty much had no choice but to smile back, letting his head fall the last few inches to press his forehead against hers.

Her hand gripped his shirt a little tighter.

He moved his hands from the wall to her waist.

They stood there, letting time pass them by, searching each other's eyes for some sort of answer to the question neither of them could bring themselves to ask aloud. He bit his lip, trying to swallow down his anxiety.

Her eyes flicked to his lips, her own parted as if to say something, before she seemed to think better of it.

She closed the gap. His heart skipped a beat at the feather-soft feeling of her lips against his and he let his eyes flutter shut. She teased his lip out from between his teeth with her own.

And then she pulled back just slightly.

He opened his eyes just enough to see her shy smile and the blush lighting up her face.

“You… you really have to stop doing that. They’ll get chapped --.”

He pressed forward again, capturing her lips in a kiss that was far more desperate than the last. She gasped quietly and he took the chance to slip his tongue into her mouth. The hand fisted in his shirt slid up to wrap around the back of his neck, dragging him even closer. He pressed her back against the wall, a hand trailing up to tangle itself in her hair, trying to reach more --.

She brought her bad arm up to cradle his face and then yelped in pain.

He jumped back. Right. Broken arm. Looks like a staircase. Not good.

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh… let’s get you treated.”

Marinette ended up with a pink cast and an order to stay home for at least a week.

She pouted, resting her head back against the couch as she watched him shuffle around in search of his second shoe (it was tucked behind her back, but he didn’t need to know that). “I’m not a child, you guys can’t just ground me,” she complained for what felt like the millionth time.

Tim rolled his eyes. “We all have to do it when we break bones unless it’s an all hands on deck situation. Been like that since even before I was Robin.”

“But B goes out with broken bones all the time!”

“That’s different.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“It is. If there is a situation where B can be a hypocrite he will do it”

Marinette scoffed. “And you’re allowed out because…?”

He started counting off on his fingers. “None of my bones are broken, my job requires me to leave, I don’t get in trouble 9/10 times I leave the house… should I go on?”

“Last one is a lie,” she mumbled.

“No, I only get in trouble, like, 8/10 times I leave.”

It was hard to maintain her glare. She settled for sticking her tongue out at him like the mature adult she was. He returned it, despite the fact that he was also an adult according to the law.

He grinned and came to sit next to her on the couch. She shifted around until she was leaning against him instead of the couch, legs tangling with his.

He didn’t say anything about the blatant attempt at trapping him there with her. Instead, he leaned closer to her face and said: “Speaking of leaving, do you happen to know where my other shoe is?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Why do I get the feeling that you already know where it is?”

He snickered. “I know you, Bean. So, can I have it back?”

“Hm… I don’t know…” she said, twirling his tie around her hand.

He let her pull him down for a kiss. She giggled against his lips as his hands ghosted over her in search of the missing shoe. She kept her good hand at his collar as a kind of silent promise that she wouldn’t -- couldn’t -- move the shoe, even throwing her bad arm around his neck just in case.

He pulled away a few moments later, squinting at her suspiciously. “I’m beginning to suspect I’ve been tricked.”

Her eyes widened in mock innocence. “Me? Trick you? I could never.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, where is it?”

She glanced at the time and smirked. “I guess you’ve earned it…” She pulled her foot out from between the couch cushions to show him the shoe she had hastily slipped on when he’d gotten close.

He scoffed lightly and slipped it off. “Y’know, if I had literally one of the most common fetishes in the world that wouldn’t have worked.”

“But you don’t, so it did,” she chirped with a cheeky grin.

“Guess that’s true…” He pecked her lips one last time before pulling his shoe on and she grinned as she watched him head to the door.

Only to stop a little short because of a knock.

He raised his eyebrows and glanced back. “Are one of my siblings coming over?”

She pressed her lips together thinly to keep herself from laughing. “It’s not any of their normal times. I just figured that, if I had to be home alone all day and couldn’t really do any work because my stupid cast, I should at least keep busy while you were gone.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. He stepped forward and opened the door to reveal a delivery guy with three giant boxes. The furniture they had ordered from Ikea had arrived.

He signed for them and then turned to glare at her. “You planned all this so I couldn’t go.”

“I mean… you could always leave me here to do them myself.” She batted her eyelashes at him innocently. “Of course, my broken arm will make it a little difficult but I’m sure I’ll manage.”

She had been stared down by Batman in full kevlar, she could handle the glare Tim gave her in his slightly messy work suit.

Then, he sighed. “Do you have a backup plan?”

“Obviously. Don’t think you’ll like that one as much.”

He scowled. “You’re really this determined to not be home alone?”

“Oh, no, this is about getting B to allow me out. Trapping you and your siblings here is just a means to that end.”

“You’re going to be trapping my siblings here, too?”

She grinned. “Yep. They show up all the time, might as well use that.”

His shoulders slumped a little.

She giggled. “If I have to stay inside all the time then so do you guys. It’s the rules.”

And, so, she reached for him until he pressed a short kiss to her lips.

Then, they got to work. Or, rather, he did. She had been relegated to just sitting nearby and helping him figure out how to build it.

She took a few pictures for their public accounts as necessary: a picture of him with three screws poking out of his mouth while he tried to figure out the weird L-shaped tool he’d been given, a picture of the two of them staring at the instruction sheet with confused frowns on their faces (taken by Tikki), Vanelope enjoying the boxes the stuff had come in, what was definitely not a thirst pic of Tim, and then the finished furniture in the apartment.

It was there, right before she was about to post it, that she realized that she hadn’t actually publicly followed any of the Waynes. She squinted at her bio, which proclaimed that she would only follow people she genuinely liked, and then at the ten people she had followed. The internet would notice if she suddenly followed eight more people.

“Darling?”

He peeked an eye open from where he was relaxing on the couch and then raised an arm for her. She took his hand and smiled a little when he pulled her into his lap so he could hug her like a pillow.

Then she pulled a more serious look to her face. “Do you want to go public or not?”

He buried his face in her neck. “Sure.”

“... not even gonna think about it?”

He shrugged. “They’re going to suspect it no matter what. Especially since we were goofing around in an Ikea of all places and you’re uploading pictures of me helping you with furniture.”

She nodded slightly. “I know, but I don’t have to upload them.”

There was a long silence as they considered their options.

Eventually he just sighed and tightened his grip on her. “I’ll go with anything you want to do, Bean.”

She relaxed slowly and, hesitantly, she sent him the photos. “Here, you can upload them, too. Might as well make it public on both of our accounts.”

He picked his head up slightly to check out the pictures. She felt his lips curl into a smile against her shoulder at the picture of Vanelope. “This one is nice.”

She snickered. “All cats are cute, obviously it would make a nice picture.”

He hummed his agreement. “No offense to you, you’re cute and all, but the cat definitely wins the cutest here.”

“I’m not offended at all. We could never beat that.”

Then, she got an idea.

“Except… maybe… want a picture of us kissing for the reveal?”

“I’ll take any excuse,” he said with a wink.

She rolled her eyes even as she felt her face warm. “You don’t need an excuse to kiss me, dumbass.”

Now it was his turn to blush. Yay, revenge.

… also, it would be cute for the picture if they were both a little red for it.

She twisted in his lap to press a kiss to his lips. His hands came up to cradle her face. She threw her bad arm around his neck, fingers threaded in his hair.

Her camera clicked. They ignored it.

#im going to write a million words of fluff and no one can stop me #unless i get like zero likes #im v motivated by likes and reblogs pls guys i need it #pls #also they're getting worseeeeeee #tim is lowkey possessive and mari is lowkey controlling #but its v lowkey so #baaasically doesn't exist #stalker x stalker #maribat #tim drake #red robin #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #timari #timmari #timinette #shutterbug

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qm-vox · 3 years ago

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So You Want To Play A Fairest

(Portrait of Erin Peters by cantankerousAquarius. The character originally appeared in Night Horrors: Grim Fears, published by White Wolf; catch my take on her in New Avalon)

Previous Articles: So You Want To Play A Beast, So You Want To Play A Wizened, So You Want To Play An Elemental, So You Want To Play An Ogre, & So You Want To Play A Darkling

You ever wonder, flipping through a Monster Manual for D&D, or a Bestiary for Pathfinder, why nymphs and hags are both always, always, women? It’s older than you know. Dig into the sordid history of tabletops and you’ll find sylphs that Gary Gygax wrote, Chaotic charmers who use mind control to reproduce with non-sylph men; you’ll find the legacy of the matriarchal drow, who follow a mad goddess, and you’ll find the medusae, whose sexual dimorphism is so complete that their men are beautiful and can turn stone into people.

Dredge deeper and you’ll find the tales that Gygax and his wretched ilk based such creatures off of.

You ever wonder why we assign such powerful Gender to creatures of beauty and horror?

Fairest don’t. They know, every time they wake up from a nightmare that is also a wet dream. They know, every time they get hit on at the bar and have to decide how they’re playing this. They know, every time they look in a mirror and see not their own face, but the ten thousand horrors that made it beautiful.

If you are very patient, and lucky, and kind, they might tell you why.

If you aren’t, they may show you.

This article draws primarily on Changeling: the Lost and Winter Masques, as well as Swords at Dawn and Night Horrors: Grim Fears. Other sources, when used, will be cited. It requires Content Warnings for sexual violence, sexual slavery, abuse, gaslighting, addiction, substance abuse, self-harm, self-image problems, mentions of fascists & fascist ideology, and just, so very much incel bullshit.

Bonus Material Part Two: The Seeming Part

The end of this article, just past the customary Sample Fairest, will include some additional material intended to help you select a Seeming for your character and otherwise build them up as one of the Lost, much as So You Want To Run A Spring Court included material for Courts as a topic.

Take Me To Wonderland - Fairest Overview

Fairest is the fourth Seeming presented in Changeling: the Lost and possibly the most confused about its own identity. Its sections in Winter Masques present depths and nuance that are completely absent in core, essentially making Winter Masques required reading for Fairest players in a way that no other book is - especially since Fairest keep getting written in a particular way alluded to in the Ogre article, which I will expand on later in this article. Fairest is numerically well-represented in canon and popular in the fanbase, home to many memorable character concepts, but its bones with folklore and tradition are weaker than it fronts as.

Ogres and Darklings claim an innate relationship to physical violence; so too do the Fairest claim a relationship to violence. The violence of Perception and its dark twin, Judgement; of Rumor and its mad dog, Prejudice, the violence of Lies and their merciless master, Truth. Fairest, alone among the Lost, have casual access to the resources of a society that refuses to service or acknowledge Changelings, and with access to that society comes both opportunity and temptation. To be Fairest is to wield power that many other Lost cannot, but the opportunity that power offers is a lie; a Fairest can smile until her face breaks like a mirror, but she’ll never be “sane” enough for the masses to see her as anything but a useful pet.

Life’s Lush Lips - Homecoming As A Fairest

Fairest can make the dubious claim of having the least clear memories of Arcadia amongst all the Lost, with Darklings and Beasts jockeying for second place. This isn’t to say that the experiences Fairest have are necessarily more intense or more inherently traumatic than that of other Lost, but rather that the abuse Fairest suffer is so emotional, so targeted at their perception of their selves and their situations and their self-image, that the memories which do form are inevitably colored by those emotions, coloring the dreams they have of Arcadia with both the emotional resonances they had at the time and with their later attempts to grapple with their own trauma and transformation. For many Fairest, who cannot trust even their strongest memory dreams, attempts to understand their own Durance must rely either on the word of their Keepers (and Faeries lie, oh, how they lie), or on reverse-engineering their own behavior to try and conceive of a trauma that could cause it.

Inevitably, however, some things are seared into their minds. For almost all Fairest, their Keeper is high on the list of things they remember with absolute clarity. Other facts, shattered and scattered, vary more widely. Erin Peters remembers stretched years kept in a cold, dark room lit only by her own hatred; every detail of her cell is scorched onto the back of her eyes, but the otherworldly balls her Keeper took her to blur together like food coloring in syrup. The slaves of the Candle Countess have terrible nightmares of the choices they were confronted with, the decision, offered over and over again, to become complicit in the Countess’s cruelty or to be victimized by it. Metallic Flowering from the Shining City struggle not to use drugs to mimic the rush of pleasure they’ve grown used to receiving for performing their jobs well; they also scream in terror if people touch them. A Draconic and a Shadowsoul both remember being used for the sexual pleasure of alien horrors; the one dreams of coiled scales and terrible teeth, the other a lifetime of lurking in an alien maze, tasked to perform the duties of a living trap for the “wicked” and “unwary” who had not yet shed the last vestiges of kindness.

There are no “wild” Fairest. For worse and worse still, to be Fairest is to have been defined by the inescapable and all-consuming attentions of your abuser, and it is this more than anything that other Lost so often fail to understand about the Fairest. Their Keepers heap them with reward and punishment, manipulating the Fairest with honeyed praise, godly wrath, gaslighting, neglect, withholding food, wondrous rewards, drugs from beyond the realms of earthly pleasure, and other hooks and crooks designed to make the Fairest dependent upon their abuser. It is hideously effective, and the first obstacle, maybe even the mightiest, that a Fairest faces to their escape is the simple horror and joy of being alone again. Their masters will try other tricks to keep them in place - tempting them with pleasures, horrific punishments, oh-so-sincere apologies - but before a Fairest can escape into the Hedge she must face, in her mind’s eye, the lonely flight back to the Iron Lands.

The memories that draw Fairest home often have parallels to their experiences in Arcadia. A slave in the Shining City bites into an otherworldly pastry and recalls her grandmother’s pie in its place; the bride of the Demon Lover, curled up under the sheets, thinks about the broken smile of the boyfriend she left behind at home. A Dancer remembers the roller rink where he fell in love with skating, while across the endless tides of the Fairest of Lands, a Shadowsoul holds on like grim death to years of work at haunted houses, scaring kids for fun and for Halloween. Fairest, so famous for their skill at words, struggle to articulate to other Lost why this should be so. Darklings assume it’s because these memories are less intense than Arcadia, and that the Fairest are fleeing to safety. Beasts get it a bit more right by thinking that these memories taste like home. The truth of the matter is that those memories have an intrinsic and nameless meaning; the highs and lows of Arcadia are divine, flawless, absolute, and therefore worthless. They are the proclamations of merciless gods. What draws the Fairest home, more than pain and pleasure they can have on their own terms, is the understanding that those gestures - for weal or for woe or for anything else besides - were made because someone cared about them, personally. Once they fully internalize that their abuser views them as disposable, the Fairest comes home to someone who won’t.

Three Kiths And Flowering Is One And A Half Of Them - Fairest Kiths

Yeah we’re about to be like that about it.

All Fairest can excel in the social arena; their Blessing can be used to flare almost every social roll in the game, and Fairest can never be caught off-guard in a social context (they suffer no untrained penalties to social rolls). With the sole exception of Empathy (usually rolled with Wits) and sometimes Streetwise, there’s no time a Fairest can’t fall back on their words and expect to win through or at least buy time. This is, as you might imagine, a godsend when it comes to attempts to pass in mortal society; Fairest can usually front, charm, bluff, or Manners(tm) their way through things like renting an apartment, nailing a job interview, asking their roommate to do the FUCKING DISHES, or getting stopped by a cop, but both the books and the fanbase miss something here. While Fairest are superb at active social events, they’re no better at keeping a lid on themselves (Composure-based rolls) than mortals are - and given both the nature of their trauma and the fact that they are, you know, Lost, Fairest have a lot more to keep a lid on day-to-day than the human society they’re trying to blend into. Thankfully, Fairest are pretty good at being able to politely leave a situation and go somewhere else to scream, shout, cry, or have a psychotic break, as appropriate.

Of course, Fairest can’t make something from nothing. As discussed in So You Want To Play An Ogre, you can’t win a social game someone else refuses to sit down to, and social rolls shouldn’t be mind control. All the Glamour in the world can’t make your roommate do the FUCKING DISHES if they’re deep in the throes of executive dysfunction, nor can it make the cashier at Walgreens fail to card you for wine when their computer literally won’t advance without an ID. People who are keyed up about honeyed words or whose own trauma came at the hands of manipulators and abusers might refuse to play that game on the terms the Fairest is setting, which makes it hard to, as it were, turn this problem into a nail. Lurking down this path as well is the specter of becoming like the masters who made you this way; if you get used to saying what will get people to listen to you, eventually you start seeing people as enrichment puzzles that dispense the things you want. Madness waits down that road, and it waits for Fairest with a giant spiked bat, thanks to their Seeming Curse.

There’s no pretty way to say this so I won’t: Fairest are always on the verge of losing their minds. Their curse hits them with a flat penalty to all rolls against losing Clarity, which means that Fairest lose Clarity faster than other Lost and they do so more consistently. This necessitates a balancing act with avoiding becoming heartless manipulators; Fairest must engage in control-seeking behavior in order to stay mentally well, must be able to trust and rely on people close to them, structure their lives, and anticipate important changes or they end up on the fast way down. Other Lost often don’t understand this need or the Fairest curse to begin with, and so Fairest end up in unofficial support groups for one another, similar to those run by Darklings except no one will admit it’s a support group even at gunpoint. Woe fucking betide the friend or life partner who gets between a Fairest and her “book club”, “girls’ night”, “D&D campaign”, or other excuse for this vital community support.

Fairest Kiths are...bad. They’re bad. This is the part of the article where I’m supposed to talk about thematics and symbolism and metaphor, and I cannot do that here, because they are bad. Fairest has three viable Kiths that are actual Fairest Kiths, one that’s a Beast Kith who got lost and wound up here by fucking mistake, and a pile of garbage bigger than my self-esteem problems. I’m almost tempted to only talk about those four Kiths and save myself the time but I suppose I should show the work like I’ve done for all the other Seemings, so here we fuckin’ go I guess.

Flowering - This is it. This is the Fairest Kith. If you want to roll any other kind of Fairest you must first pass the trial of justifying why you’re not playing Flowering. In theory, Flowering draws its mythic heritage from nymphs and dryads, charming flower sprites, Knights of Flowers, and the like, but in practice Flowering’s only mechanical effect is 9-again on Persuasion, Socialize, and Subterfuge with no qualification or requirement, which doesn’t just make you better at everything Fairest is good at, it makes you better when you spend Glamour to flare it too. Want to represent a biobahn sith’s hypnotic dance? Flowering works. Want to create a vampiric Fairest with a sultry voice? Here comes Flowering. The siren at the bar who smells like sea air and gunpowder? Flowering. Everything is Flowering. Even the things that aren’t Flowering are Flowering because all Fairest Kiths have a social focus, which is Flowering’s undisputed arena of mastery.

Bright One - In theory, Bright Ones represent beings of light in the vein of Victorian fey (which...ugh...Victorians), but their Goblin Illumination is, how you say, useless, only becoming vaguely useful for a total of 2 Glamour as a passive defense that took you 2 turns to set up. Anything you want to represent here can be found in Flowering and with Elements or Communion (Light).

Dancer - You know how Flowering gives you bonuses on all social rolls? Would you like those same bonuses but on 1 less skill and only on rolls that “involve physical grace”? No? Run Flowering here and give your character a Dance specialty in one or more skills.

Draconic - One of the game’s premier melee options and a Beast Kith who took a wrong turn and ended up getting a free makeover intended for someone else. Draconic in theory represents Fairest as dragons, monster girls, demons, and in general at their most physical, but that idea sorta...falls down a bit? Draconic’s bonuses are all about Brawl and all the sample Draconics are swordsmen, which might suggest to the discerning reader that someone in the office wasn’t reading their own fucking game. Draconic Fairest don’t make bad melee boys if you invest in Lethal Mien, but honestly this is Dual Kith bait; slap it on your Hunterheart or your Razorhand and go apeshit.

Muse - Close but no cigar. In theory Muses are, well, muses; figures of inspiration, mentorship, teaching, creative fire. Their Kith Blessing is strong but requires access to mortals, which is complicated and roundabout on the best of days. If you have an idea that you think is Muse-shaped, use Playmate instead.

Flamesiren - Behold, we enter the realm of Okay(tm). Flamesirens are what Bright Ones wanted to be, and their hypnotic aura is actually a pretty neat tool; with cunning you can make it a one-sided penalty, and even if you don’t it’s an interesting method of de-escalating a social or combat situation by subjecting everyone to the tar pit that is your presence. If your concept involves light and color and you’re resistant to Flowering, Flamesiren will do more than nothing.

Polychromatic - Polychromatics don’t have a lot of roots in mythology; their modern inspirations are, well, Manic Pixie Dream Girls. But they get a shout-out here for being the only Fairest Kith who can muster up decent emotional defenses; not only can they magically boost their Composure rolls (and non-Composure rolls to resist magical and mundane emotional attacks for that matter), but others get a flat penalty to Empathy rolls against them, which makes them talented dissemblers. You’re still probably better off with Flowering - in a world of passive Kith Blessings, Polychromatic’s is extra passive - but I can see this Kith passing muster, and even being worth the two dots to Dual Kith in-house.

Shadowsoul - This one’s insane. Ostensibly Fairest Does Darkling, Shadowsouls get their Wyrd to Intimidate rolls which could be the whole Kith on its own and still be worth the slot, but in addition to that they get 9-again on Subterfuge (matching Flowering and Darklings there) and access to Contracts of Darkness, one of the most powerful in the game line, as an Affinity Contract. Is your Fairest spooky? Would you like them to be spooky? Here’s your one-stop shop.

Telluric - This is a Kith made of ribbon bonuses. In theory related to stars and celestial light, Telluric’s bonuses to rolls “with precise timing” isn’t...really worth considering. Run ‘em as Flamesiren and move on.

Treasured - In theory also able to muster emotional defenses, Treasured are Fairest who are literally made into works of art. They’re Okay(tm) but in their niche are beaten out by Polychromatic with a better effect for less resources.

Playmate - The last Real Fairest Kith(tm), Playmate appears in Night Horrors: Grim Fears where White Wolf tries to sell it as Peter Pan, but its powerful team-oriented bonuses mean that Playmates are useful anywhere Muse is wanted and more places besides. The front woman of an indie rock band could be a Playmate; so too could be an idealized baseball captain, the director at your local theater, the middle manager of a sinister conspiracy, or the night shift lead at a research lab. Do people do a thing in teams? Playmate does that thing.

And She Had Huge Titties, I Mean Massive Badondadonks, Absolutely Enormous Bazoggahoggas - Lost’s Canon Fairest

Remember when I said we had to get back to this after So You Want To Play An Ogre? Now we’re getting back to this. I’m not gonna re-state my caveats from that article and I’m not really gonna go back over the bit about So White Wolf Was Run By Fucking Nazis because, in all honesty, I do not have the fucking time to restate all of that in new words. Give thanks that OPP got out alive and let’s get right down to it.

Fairest have a very consistent characterization in canon that is only really challenged in Winter Masques; the narrative put forth in Lost is that Fairest, being attractive, have an uncomplicated power which privileges their lives. Which is a rather bloodless way to describe how White Wolf kept writing and publishing Fairest as heartless abusers and manipulators getting their jollies and emotional needs met by casually destroying their fellow survivors, manipulating them through sex appeal, outright lies, cattiness, cruelty, and betrayal. Much as simply queering Ogre does not help Ogre in and of itself, queering Fairest only takes you from incel and Nazi propaganda about women into...incel and Nazi propaganda about twinks, femmes, & in general anyone with the temerity to be found attractive by straight white people.

I’m not bitter, you’re bitter.

So what do you do at your table, with your Fairest concept? Lemme open up by saying that like, Fairest qua Fairest is perfectly solid, and if it wasn’t there wouldn’t be an article here; Fairest has a lot to say for itself about feminized violence, about your personhood being reduced to a product for the consumption of others, about emotional abuse & neglect, gaslighting, and sexual assault, but the conclusion White Wolf arrives at (”Fairest have unalloyed power over mortal and Lost society and they abuse that power”) is super fucking obtuse and betrays a serious lack of concern for what the Fairest undergo. It ignores the way a Fairest’s ordeals will force her to confront her relationship to her own gender and alter her willingness and ability to be consumed, disconnect her from her former society while also isolating her from her new one, and these questions are important for you if you’re looking to play a ‘classic’ Fairest.

But that leaves some hanging questions. Male Fairest face the almost inescapable fate of “failing” maleness on patriarchal terms; even the most strapping, broad-chested, athletic Adonis of a Fairest has become a man of layered words and reflexive empathy, whose Manly Stoicism(tm) is a cracking facade at best and entirely abandoned in a more typical circumstance. Men who become Fairest thus face a second journey after their escape from Arcadia; confronting what being men means to them and building their gender identity back up from the rubble it’s become. The temptation to accept success on society’s terms is always going to be present, and it’s always going to be offered like it’s possible, but it’s a losing game for these Fairest; they simply cannot be the men that other men demand they become.

Now, the discerning and loyal reader is surely about to ask, hey Vox, where’s the butch Fairest I was promised back in the Ogre article, to which I respond WE’RE GETTING THERE but I gotta use this as a bridge to talk about something that cuts across Fairest of all genders, be they cis or trans. Lost 1e makes a lot of hay out of the idea that Fairest “are rarely conventionally attractive”, and core even provides some interesting written concepts for that...which make it into exactly none of the art. Every published Fairest is conventionally attractive for various definitions of conventional, be it as a supermodel or a waif, but that leaves the question of Fairest who genuinely are not - and, tragically, Fairest who were not, and were then made into someone more easily consumed by their Durance. You know what I’m about to say, and I know you know I’m about to say it, but I’m gonna say it anyway: all bodies are beautiful, but Fairest know well that beauty and attraction aren’t the same, and neither are beauty and happiness. All Fairest, from the roundest bear to the most wide-eyed waif, are the products of Keepers who valued their bodies in that state, and that idea is going to haunt them day in and day out for the rest of their extended lives. There is no such thing as a Fairest with an uncomplicated relationship to their body, and that White Wolf seems to think that an uncomplicated relationship is their default state is...disgusting, frankly.

Which brings us, at long last, to butch Fairest (also bear Fairest but I’m gonna stick with the one set of terms or I’m going to go mad and this will never be published), who have a complicated journey ahead of them. On the one hand, the assertion of control and ownership over their own bodies, their own identities, cannot be overstated. On the other hand, elements of those bodies are going to be completely out of their control; a nascent butch Fairest may well hit the gym to get swole only to discover that she literally, physically cannot, that she has been Assigned Dex Build At Durance. Hauling your corpse out of Arcadia with an extremely feminine appearance shaped by your Keeper might complicate attempts to present in a more masculine manner or even just to appear androgynous, and those complications can be discouraging. For those that stick to it, this journey will take them two places; one is the bared-teeth, bloody-knuckled assertion that this life is theirs and you can have it if you can fucking take it, and the other is into the ranks of the Freehold’s retained warriors, usually in Summer or Autumn, though a vibrant representation of Spring knights will make it seem as if Spring has more butch Fairest than it actually does. These Fairest are aware, or will become aware, of how much of their job involves de-escalating or pre-empting violence; a focus on Physical stats or skills is not necessarily common, but hyper-specialization therein likely is. A butch Fairest is a lot more likely to have, say, Brawl 4 (Multiple Opponents) and no other Physical skills than she is to have Brawl, Weaponry, Athletics, and Stealth, in part or in whole because her first weapon of choice is going to be an Intimidate roll.

At every turn you’re able to, challenge White Wolf’s narrative about Fairest by asking yourself what your Fairest wants, why they’re this way, what they’re frightened of, and how the way they behave relates back to these. They’re not products; they’re people, just as hurt and Lost as the rest of their peers.

Princesses And Pastries - Fairest In The Courts

Fairest have a complex relationship to the society of their fellow Lost. On the one hand, they have the same need for community, support, companionship, understanding, honesty, and material aid as all Lost; a Fairest is not magically proof against being homeless, against starving, against the dangers of existing in the modern world without things like a photo ID or car insurance, and Freeholds provide all of these things. On the other hand, the thing most Fairest fear most, even if they can’t articulate that fear, is their own power - social influence, emotional trust and betrayal, status, political power, and authority. Fairest are all too aware that being good at this game does not make them immune to it - after all, that’s the lesson they learned at the hands of their Keepers.

What follows from this is a complex dance of interactions that each Fairest in some ways has to feel like she’s managing on her own, even if she’s not (and she rarely is; those support groups exist for a reason). If you give a Fairest a doughnut in a social setting, she will lick that doughnut even if she doesn’t intend to eat it right away, solely to hear someone else say something along the lines of “well it’s yours now”. As Fairest filter into Freehold society and take up social roles at all levels of power - officers, messengers, ‘ambassadors’ to mortal society, secretaries, pledge-smiths, teachers, monarchs - their responsibilities and rewards become their doughnut. That Fairest make a big deal out of both their job and the benefits that come with it is rarely, as other Lost sometimes think, about aggrandizement or reveling in power for its own sake; it’s about the sheer relief and assurance of hearing someone say, to the Fairest’s face, that this is her doughnut and no one is going to take it from her.

Younger Fairest tend to flit between two or three Courts; their initial selection may be based entirely on friendships, Vibes, or a gut-check decision based on an initial pitch by that Court, and Fairest can go quite far even in a Court that doesn’t quite actually fit their needs. Eventually, though, those Fairest who survive their youth will gravitate towards a Court whose ideals speak to them, even if its current social order isn’t living up to those ideals. If they’re going to be condemned to live as exiles in the world of their birth, the Fairest can at least be the person she wants to be, god damn it. Fairest aren’t any more or less vulnerable to a toxic Court environment than other Lost, but they’re good at detecting it beforehand. Unfortunately they’re also good at telling themselves they can change it.

Spring - Though early Spring joiners are of course rare in general, Fairest are among those Lost who more commonly choose Spring as a first Court. Spring’s highly social focus and chaotic internal organization is almost tailor-made for the skill set of your average Fairest, but therein too lies a sense of threat; for many Fairest, Spring can remind them of their Durance, and their joining of the Court is as much motivated by fear of a powerful cultural body as it is by any genuine Desire, maybe even more so. Many such Fairest end up caught in Spring’s middle-road trap, spinning their wheels without recovering or worsening more or less until they finally die, but when Autumn can sniff out the fearful ones it puts a lot of work into cooperating with Spring to get them out and where they can be helped.

Summer - More Fairest dabble with Summer for dreams of glory, or because they want to believe in Summer’s apolitical sales pitch, than ultimately stick with Summer. Those that do stay often serve as officers, as the Sun’s Tongue or the Arrayer of Distant Thunder, and as Court sorcerers. Fairest skilled in Contracts of Separation can make for surprising Jaegers, hounding their prey down more like a private investigator or a serial killer than a traditional hunter, but while striking this is fairly rare. Fairest who stick with Summer are those who are looking for its high ideals and are often among those rare Summer Courtiers who can competently articulate both those ideals and their pitfalls without falling prey to cynicism and bitterness.

Autumn - For those Fairest who hurt others to feel safe, Autumn is waiting. The Leaden Mirror can be attractive to young Fairest because it’s easy to perceive Autumn as atomized, defined by personal relationships rather than webs of political influence, but when the Fairest discovers those webs the existence of Option Two: Resort To Violence as an acceptable tool to the Ashen Court is perversely reassuring rather than threatening. The image of the Fairest as a witch, tempting and threatening, clings to them in Autumn but it’s honestly not their most common role; Autumn employs its Fairest as rumor-mongers, the Other Woman who seems a little too familiar with your husband, therapists & counselors, oneiromancers, and ambassadors to Hedge communities. The work Autumn does is harsh on Clarity, and Fairest are especially vulnerable to that harshness, but if the Court invests the time in helping its Fairest members, the self-awareness and self-confidence it offers can be a godsend that no other Court can give them.

Winter - As the Court which is actually selling what Fairest think Autumn has - to wit, the ability to simply say “no” to all social interactions with no justification required - Winter has a strong undercurrent of Fairest membership at all tiers of its power. Fairest often end up directly involved in Winter’s money-making enterprises, and flourish as Squires and Armigers with their fingers on the pulse of the Court’s morale. Winter’s hands-off approach displays a tremendous amount of trust in its Fairest from their perspective, and the demeanor of the Coldest Court - Winter’s indifferent equality - has a potent, merciless appeal. The trap of drowning in Sorrow sucks more than a few Fairest under, but if their peers can be there for them there’s always a way back out.

This Is Not A Pipe - Fairest And Lost’s Themes

My many thanks to Izzie M for her extensive help on this section. I’m not sure I’d have been able to grapple it down, emotionally or intellectually, otherwise.

Fairest go through some intense shit, and the shit they go through can never fully be addressed, never fully be recovered from. It’s no mistake that Fairest, like Wizened, are among those Lost likely to never fully gain resolution with or from their Keeper, and this is because they embody the dark truth that no matter how much progress you make, how much you heal, your trauma has changed who you are as a person and you will be dealing with it until you die. But, as alluded to extensively above in the discussion of Fairest and gender, Fairest also embody the way in which society will attempt to stamp you, mold you, turn you into a product to be consumed or an archetype to be placed into its churning machine, and its attempts to reshape who and what you are and can be are, in themselves, a form of trauma and abuse.

Fairest deal a lot in expectations. They’re expected to be perfect victims, they’re expected to be happy (because they’re beautiful and attractive, because they can front as Doing Okay, because they have a form of access to ‘normal’ society), they’re expected to want romance and sex (since everyone else wants those things out of them), to perform emotional labor, to be available, intimate, understanding, to keep up appearances. Fairest escape the chains of their Keeper only to be clapped in the chains that extend into the eyes and minds of their peers, and they cannot move without hearing the clink of them.

Fairest are primed to represent victims of ongoing emotional abuse and neglect; sex slaves and victims of child abuse might find themselves in Fairest, as might husbands or wives of abusive partners (and boy, re-living my bullshit there was a bonus prize I didn’t want to receive for writing this article), children pushed to over-achieve (here overlapping with Elemental) until they break, pastor’s daughters and cult kids (here overlapping with Beast), and others. However, Fairest also hit their thematic stride when talking about trauma from a society that will not give you an exit. A trans person is first punished by society for “failing” to perform their assigned gender, then made to perform their new one to expectations that they cannot set, do not control, and do not consent to; such a person might easily be Fairest, as might a man breaking under the expectations of Maleness, a college student losing their mind in finals week with no one to help, or even more ‘ordinary’ sex workers expected to perform emotional and physical labor for a society that rewards their work with violence and dehumanization.

Fairest are people with complex internal worlds and they damn well know it, but the temptations to let others define them are numerous; society promises all manner of rewards for being who and what it wants you to be, for wanting the things it tells you to want, for being the kind of person who wants and does those things. To be Fairest is to know at any time you can start faking it and receive those rewards insofar as they’re actually on the table, but it is also to know, every second of every day that you’re performing that role, that it is fake. If you can’t find a community with which you can be genuine...well. You can always get more hurt, and in this way Fairest also bring another theme of Lost into focus: that the Lost owe compassion and understanding to their fellow victims, because failure to care can only hurt both them and everyone in their blast zone.

Feet Pics For Legos - Coping As A Fairest

Fairest are among those Lost who are most concerned with their day-to-day social interactions and safety rather than their immediate, very physical environmental safety. They are perhaps the Seeming most likely to live in a group setting (in an apartment with roommates or romantic partners, in a house shared between multiple households, splitting the bills in a condo, with their parents), and are definitely the Seeming most comfortable with the idea of living with mortals who aren’t ensorcelled. Indeed, Fairest don’t tend to do well living alone; even a Fairest who wants or needs a private place to be, choosing to keep a home in which others cannot lay a claim, will likely crash at friends’ places, sleep over at the Freehold commons on some pretext or another, stay the night with a lover, or otherwise have a place to flop down while surrounded by other people. Having other people - their greatest reality check - around the place helps keep the Fairest centered in the real reality, better able to pick apart the mortal from the Wyrd from their own unrelated hallucinations, and a Fairest who is isolated - or who is permitted to isolate herself - quickly begins to dissociate and may soon be incapable of caring for herself until someone can get her back into the present.

Those invited over as guests to a Fairest’s home may note a lot of concern for those she lives with. She likely schedules the event well in advance, is clear about the boundaries of those she lives with (”That’s Brenda’s room, the door stays shut.”) and in general treats her communal home with a lot of respect and love. Respecting these boundaries and in turn having her own respected is very validating for the Fairest and is vital to be able to feel safe and at ease in her own home, and impressing their importance on guests further reinforces that this is, as it were, her doughnut. While not dismissive of their own literal physical safety per se, a Fairest’s anxieties rarely center around her body being violently attacked by strangers. For those that do have such anxieties, they may choose to solve that problem by simple expedient of rooming or living with someone large and scary.

Another detail of note which is touched on in Winter Masques is that Fairest tend to seek out life’s little pleasures. Though they are not necessarily wealthier than other Lost, how a Fairest chooses to spend her money tends to follow particular patterns. Rare is the Fairest who doesn’t have clothing they like, a phone that works, a wallet or purse that can actually hold all of their stuff, and in this regard most Fairest without a special interest in fashion as a hobby in and of itself will have an aesthetic that is self-expressive but serviceable and hard-wearing, but any place the Fairest haunts, frequents, or lives in will get little touches everywhere. Fairest spend the little bits of extra money for good toilet paper, soft soaps that won’t hurt the skin, good shower supplies, high-quality razors, boots that won’t wear through - and they spend their serious money on their hobbies and preferences. A Fairest with a passion for cooking scrimps and saves to get a fully-stocked kitchen; a Fairest who likes building and connecting invests in Legos or Hot Wheels and creates elaborate environments for them. A gamer Fairest has headphones that can vibrate your constipation away and a fiber optic connection to ensure that lag will not stand between her and your doom. The reasons for this are manifold, and Lost’s canon writing suggests that Fairest seek pleasure to alleviate a desire to return to Arcadia. This is, to put it mildly, a stupid assertion; rather, the Fairest provides her own pleasures in part because it is one of the most emotionally clear ways to lick the doughnut, and in part because it reminds her that she can be happy under her own power, can seek pleasure, stimulation, engagement, without placing herself at another’s mercy - ironically making it easier to go out every day and do exactly that as a member of her various societies.

As a Fairest settles in she tends to look for “her” people, and quite often they’re good at compartmentalizing this, wearing different hats and having different feelings about those hats without feeling fake or distressed about the bare fact of that. She’ll have her personal friends and family, like her housemates, her girlfriend, maybe her mortal family, her neighbors, and then folks like her Motley (which are like her personal friends and family, but In The Know), her fellow Fairest and the Freehold broadly, her work friends and fellow hobbyists. A Fairest who does, say, sex work, thinks of herself as a Sex Worker and understands herself in the context of that broader social group. It can be a lot! Many Lost barely have a handle on being a member of both the Freehold and a Court, and the way Fairest flit to and fro between many communities, slipping seamlessly from one role to another, can be exhausting to watch - but by doing so the Fairest also builds bonds between those communities, highlights their common needs and interests, draws them together over their similarities and strengths. Darklings and Wizened get a lot of the work on the ground done, but it’s often a Fairest in the role of whistleblower, figurehead, and champion all at once.

After all, this, too, is her doughnut.

Example Fairest - Clara Belltower, Spring Playmate

Clara Belltower is a mime.

Well, no, not exactly. Clara Belltower is a self-employed porn actress, erotic script writer, and director, whose primary thing is mimes, clowns, and more broadly circuses and performance venues. She came back from Arcadia eight years back fleeing life as her Keeper’s Stepford Wife, and ran face-first into the money issues that haunt the Lost in general. What started out as a practical choice in new career - and an attempt to find and express an identity not created for her by her abuser - became a creative passion that has stayed strong with Clara and propelled her to status in the Spring Court, which retains her keen eye for decoration, direction, and theatricality in service to its high rituals and revels. Clara’s livestreams and online presence are also a convenient avenue for the Freehold to launder its less legal revenue streams, which has endeared Spring’s “silent siren” to the Winter Court and cemented her as a mover and shaker.

Clara’s ambitions reach beyond erotic miming, as talented as she is at both creating and purveying such. She has her eyes on four different strip clubs in Freehold territory alone whose owners and operators need to fucking go, and she wants Winter’s help making it happen; further, she wants the Freehold to take over operation of those establishments for the benefit of the workers. Clara’s vision is popular in Spring and has its supporters in Summer too, but the Declining Seasons have been cool on the concept, citing a need to maintain subtlety and avoid entanglements with the mortal world that might invite the eye of, say, the IRS - or mire the Freehold in a protracted war with local police departments. Clara’s passion burns with a righteous simplicity, envisioning a Freehold that is active in improving the city around it - if the cops want to throw down, bring it on! Her influence over Winter means the Coldest Court cannot simply dismiss her desires, but neither is it willing to go to war. Something is going to have to give, soon.

This concludes the Fairest portion of the article. Some additional thoughts on Seeming follow.

Bombing Your Own Position - Choosing Your Seeming

So it’s been six articles and I’ve talked about the ways various Seemings can represent responses to the things which traumatize us; neurodivergences for which society abuses us, the machinery of capitalism, violence, prison, and more. But how do you go about choosing your character’s Seeming? The obvious choice is to make a character that puts a lot of yourself at the table; to seek out a Seeming that reflects your own traumas, your own issues, your own anxieties and struggles, and then grapple with them in this fictional context. But RPGs can be an emotionally challenging medium, and you may well not want to deal with your own bullshit during your magic trauma fairy game. That’s valid!

Now, the second obvious piece of advice is to think about your proposed character’s themes and traumas and then select a Seeming from there, but this can get complicated. Many Lost players feel as if they need two Seemings, and to those players I say: no the fuck you do not. But it is true that people are messy and do not fully resolve, that the broad spectrum of the world of sorrow and loss is not easy to fit into 6 discrete categories whose creation was often managed by, not to keep repeating this point, fucking Nazis. I have found in my experience that it can be helpful, when you’re torn between two Seemings or you have a character you’re sure is this Seeming even though they look like or could be that one, to ask yourself why the character is not the other option. Why is this alluring and sensual Darkling not a Fairest, what makes this brutal and violent Wizened not an Ogre? This question naturally leads to others about their abuse and their reaction to it, and can start your momentum for writing your concept out.

As an addition, while I’ve spoken of various Seemings as being well-equipped to represent specific traumas, they don’t own those traumas. Elementals are metaphorically autistic, but there’s nothing stopping you from running an autistic Fairest or an autistic Beast instead. Rather, those Seemings outlined as being “for” or “about” certain traumas are those whose selection will make those traumas thematically central, cause you to return to them as a topic over and over by virtue of being who and what they are. Real people have complicated problems which intersect with one another, spawning new problems that are more strange than the sum of their parts, and it’s both valid and interesting to write your Lost that way - just keep in mind that it’ll still be complicated at the table too.

Van Helsing Hate Crimes - Seeming Politics

White Wolf spent a lot of time waffling back and forth on whether or not Seemings represent distinct cultural and political identities in a given Freehold, drifting towards ‘yes’ when the writers thought about the way Blessings and Curses create consistent, measurable differences between Lost of various Seemings, and towards ‘no’ generally whenever they were asked to actually outline a Lost society such as a sample Freehold or Entitlement. Some Entitlements are locked to specific Seemings, often times with little thought as to why, while other times Seeming-based power blocs are alluded to as worldbuilding elements (such as in Lords of Summer) without much in the way of supporting detail. Why should these things happen, when, how, what does the buildup of this violent fracture in a Freehold society look like?

On the whole, I have taken the stance in these articles and in my own worldbuilding that some amount of fantastical prejudice exists amongst the Lost, but that the systems of oppression have not taken root. Maybe it’s idealistic of me to view the Lost as unwilling or unable to produce internally racist power structures that create an underclass for the benefit of an appointed elite, but in general I feel as if Freeholds are too small, each individual member too precious by simple dint of being a living being in a physical body, for this kind of evil to flourish. That said, you may have also noticed that I identified two Seemings - Darklings and Fairest - as explicitly self-uniting and in some senses self-governing on the basis of common traumas that they often cannot fully explain to outsiders, and indeed community with people that understand your bullshit without you having to say it aloud - that is, those who share a Seeming with you - can be invaluable to all Lost. Ultimately, however, I want to advise against looking at Seemings the way that, say, Vampire: the Requiem looks at Clans, and instead to treat them as reactions to trauma rather than a kind of alternate racial identity.

Next up: So You Need To Write A Fetch

#Changeling: The Lost #rpg #fairest #trauma #abuse #seemings #violence

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years ago

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Feeling very emotional about how you depict the trauma of having abuse in a household which isn't directed at you. Ryan and Izzy mean a lot to me. It really isn't something which is talked about enough, especially when it causes PTSD and huge guilt. (I know Izzy is also abused but I mean in the context of witnessing one parent abusing another). I'm just blown away by how nuanced and compassionate your depiction of trauma is.

Ryan and Danny very much hit the Golden Child/Scapegoat dynamic of emotional abuse, and while Ryan has it "easy", he also struggles with the reality of what that has meant for Danny, and with guilt and regret over the times when they were young that he allowed Danny to take the blame for him, or didn't speak up or try to defend him.

As an adult, he does his best to make up for it, knowing that he can't. But he and Danny are inseparable and always were, regardless of whatever else happens to them.

But, yeah, I think there's a particular kind of awful sharp guilt that the Golden Child can live with when they realize what it meant for the Scapegoat child.

As for Izzy, @comfy-whumpee and I have at length about how their Jax and Izzy become essentially unhealthily codependent, because Izzy is already forced to essentially be a second parent to her infant brother even when she is only four years old - she knows how to change his diapers and can get out one of his readymade bottles or snacks when he's hungry. She echoes her father's actions in turning down food if it means her little brother might not have enough, because the example she has of a parent who loves her is a parent who is forced to accept abuse to keep himself and his children alive and together.

One thing about Izzy is that she and Jamie undergo very different early childhoods. Izzy is four years old when Jax escapes and retains some fairly clear memories and fears. She has a lot of nervous issues, is diagnosed with severe anxiety, struggles to speak up in school and with severe delays in her social development and some significant academic delays, because she is so scared all the time that her brain struggles to soak up and create the kind of social connections other kids her age are making. Jax (and the other servants) did what they could but Izzy suffered from a chaotic mix of Jax's love and Savvie's neglect or outright violent hostility, and her development is very affected by it.

Also, Jax was so overwhelmed and traumatized himself that he would often need to step away from parenting, and while Izzy and Jamie would be watched by Hannah, Izzy was keenly aware nonetheless that sometimes her father seemed like he couldn’t bear to be near her.

Jamie was a year old, and so he has no memories of Savvie directly. But he also has nightmares more often than is altogether normal for a small child as he grows up, and he reflects and responds to Izzy and Jax's trauma adaptations with his own - he's a little bit of a class clown (his ADHD feeds into that), he's light-hearted and always smiling. He focuses on drawing the two of them out of their fears as best he can without even realizing consciously that he's doing it. He also grows up knowing his father and sister both have complicated plans for what to do if Savvie somehow returns.

I wanted to show that while Izzy's trauma doesn't just fade, even though the main cause was during her early childhood. She retains a sense of being a 'second parent' to Jamie even after Kieran enters their lives and is their dad as much as Jax is. When there is the slightest hint of risk or danger, Izzy switches back into Jamie's Mom mode.

I don't know. I feel like there is often this sense in fiction of kids being so resilient, but resilience doesn't mean you don't still have to get through it, day by day. It doesn't mean it goes away. And so much of our brain development is affected by our early treatment. But it doesn't have to define us.

#izzy asks #ryan asks #anon asks for danny #ptsd tw #trauma recovery #childhood trauma #child abuse tw

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barbecuebabybackribs · 4 years ago

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Truly Damned (Male Angel-Demon Hybrid Reader x Jasper Hale)

Dating Jasper Hale was many things, the first thing that comes to mind is heavenly- although incredibly ironic- but one of the other thing I would say it was is difficult.

He’s a man who never has to ask what someones feeling, he just knows. So obviously when I walked in- not only his mate but the one person in his long life he’d ever met whom he couldn’t read? His interest was peaked to say the least.

Question after question, trying to find out why exactly I was immune to all vampiric powers, not only that but my scent was something he’d never smelt before, so heavenly but so easy to resist. With most humans he struggled to not bite down on there neck every second he’s around them but not me, and he wants to know why.

Although that precise question is why I’m avoiding him now, trying to slowly make him realize he deserves so much better then a damned creature like me. I go against almost every religious text I’ve ever read- if they even bother to mention my kind at all.

A being born from the forbidden relations of a demon and an angel- it complicated my life to say the least.

Fortunately I was adopted at the mere age of three by a lovely older couple by the names Roxanne Seever and Delilah Seever, they didn’t know who I was or what I was but they loved me for me and that was enough.

However it didn’t last long, good things around me always seems to perish and Roxy was one of them- it all happened so quickly I could’ve done something but I just sat in shock as a semi headed right for our car, squeezed my eyes shut not wanting to witness what was about to happen and right when I heard the sounds of metal against metal and glass shattering- I felt nothing.

I opened my eyes and I was yards away from a picture that still to this day haunt’s me, I couldn’t see much but what I could killed me. The sight of the woman I called mom obviously launched from the wreck of a car mere feet behind her, laying on the ground breathing heavily, and blood surrounding her.

I could’ve done something, but I didn’t.

The ambulances came and carted us away but we all could see in her pale skin she was gone, and when I looked over and saw her cold lifeless face staring back at me that’s when I knew, I was the very thing I had nightmares of since I was a little boy.

I was left unscathed by my miraculous escape- as others called it. I just called it transmutation. I learned a lot since that day when I was a mere 12 years old, while my mother grieved yet never seemed to recover I became obsessed with finding out what I was, who I was, why I was created. It was years until I found out, but when they came to me, in my dreams. It all made sense.

They explained everything to me, how they and a demon had fallen in love however it wasn’t meant to be and they were torn from each other, but not before they fell pregnant- only possible due to the fact they were inhabiting a female body when the act took place.

It all made sense, all my years of searching and I finally got confirmation, I was a demon. A forbidden creature not even god could love, so I did what I thought was best and pushed everyone as far away from me as possible, and although it killed me to see my mother desperately trying to connect with me even through some of her darkest moments, I was doing what I thought was best.

My powers were completely out of control, the longer I lived the more powers showed up and the stronger they grew, transmutation, telekinesis, pyrokenisis, to many to name, and with each power came more struggle to keep my secret hidden, it was almost impossible to keep all of this bottled inside me,

And It was all going to plan, live my life never getting close to another person so they wouldn’t get hurt- that was of course until the new kid’s came to school- The Cullens- and among them was Jasper Hale, the man I would fall head over heels in love with and would completely change my life.

I tried my hardest to push him away but he wasn’t having any of it. He slowly chipped away at the walls I had so desperately built around myself, for months I slowly let him in, it was on the third month I officially befriended him, the fifth month I was fighting off a serious crush, and the six month was one I will forever cherish, the month he asked me out and I accepted so quickly embarrassment ate away at me. The eighth month he told me what he was and for just a moment I thought maybe he could understand, that we’d be safe with each other, and although I never told him what I was- I still felt as if he understood every part of me.

But that was crushed when a few days after our six month anniversary he was attacked by a group of nomad vampires, apparently my unusual scent still lingered on his brought them there- I was the reason they attacked him and he got hurt- although only slightly in vampire standard it still could have been much worse, he could’ve been killed.

I will never forget the image of him flashing in front of my, pure fear in his eyes as both his cold hands clamped around my shoulders, his voice faltered slightly as he asked if I was okay and if anything had happened. His blue shirt torn on his arms, new scars appeared under them, I tried to ignore is but my head spun as he told me the events that had just taken place and I knew, I knew I was wrong. I knew he wasn’t safe with me.

And that’s why I’m pushing him away now, and this time I won’t let him tear down my walls in fear of him getting hurt because of me again- or even worse ending up like my mother.

But of course he wasn’t going to make that easy for me. It’s hard to explain to the man you love why you avoiding him when you can’t just casually say “Oh it’s because I’m a demon-angel hybrid and I don’t want you to die because everything good around me seems to die, my mother, my dog, happiness, kindness, all that good stuff. So I’ve decided to essentially shun you from my life. Okay bye have a nice day.”

So when I moved seats in class, didn’t sit with him at lunch, didn’t drive to school with him and hang out with him after school, didn’t even respond to his texts, he was slightly pissed, but mainly extremely concerned. What had happened? Was it something he did? Were you threatened by someone? Had you simply fallen out of love with him? Was he just not good enough?

He had to confront me, I knew it was coming but that didn’t make it any less heart wrenching. My chest ached as he confront me on my walk home, on the most secluded part of the route, his eyes were filled with pain as he asked a simple question, “Why?”

My throat went dry and I wrapped my arms around myself, the only source of comfort in this moment, I looked him dead in the eye and shook slightly as my entire facade dropped away in an instant, overwhelming guilt and despair washing over me, a single word caused my eyes to burn and water, my breath faltering despite my best efforts to keep it steady.

His golden eyes flooded with concern as he took in my pathetic state, “I can’t tell you.” I choked out, sucking in a jagged breath to try and calm myself but it only broke the damn in my eyes and tears streamed down my face- much to my dismay. In this moment as I looked at his confused and hurt eyes I envied his ability to not cry, it would make convincing him I don’t want to be with him much easier.

“Darling, what happened?” He said taking a step closer to me, “Why have you been so distant?”

I matched his step but backwards, wanting to keep distant because I couldn’t promise myself I wouldn’t fall into his arms if he got any closer.

“Nothing happened, Jasper. I just don’t think we are a good match.” I lied through my teeth, and I could see it on his face he knew it was a blatant lie.

“I don’t believe you, tell me what’s wrong Y/N. We can fix it, whatever it is we can work through it.” He promised, taking a quick step forward, this is so quick I couldn’t step away. I could only push him slightly by placing my hand on his chest, although he didn’t budge. He only held onto my hand while it was placed against his chest.

“Did I do something?” He asked, his brows furrowing as he stared at me, the pain in his eyes almost killed me and I couldn’t let him think he was the reason I didn’t want to be with him- he was the reason I wanted so badly to be with him, I was the reason I couldn’t.

“It’s nothing to do with you...” I mumbled trying to step back but his grip on my hand kept me in place, “Jasper please, let me go.” I said, referring to my hand although it had deeper meaning, I just needed him to let me go emotionally and physically.

“No, tell me what’s wrong,” He said cradling my hands gingerly although keeping a firm grip on them, “Whatever it is we can fix it-”

“No you can’t!” I shouted finally pulling my hands free, taking advantage of the fact that me raising my voice caused him to falter. I took a few steps back before running my now sweaty hands through my hair, I can’t do this... I can’t tell him.

“Please, Y/N. Whatever I did, I’ll make it better.” He practically begged, his usually steady voice quivering, irritation filled me and I finally burst, after all these years, my true self was finally revealed.

“No, Jasper! No you can’t, you can’t fix me! You’re not the problem I am, everything about me is damned- I’m quite literally a demon, I’m a monster in so many ways you will never understand, I can not be fixed like you said, you can’t fix this problem, I can never be fixed! Everything I love gets taken from me, my mothers, my friends, even my damn dog, I thought maybe you’d be safe, maybe you wouldn’t be affected by this damned curse, but no! You’ll just end up like everyone else!” I talked so fast my mind couldn’t keep up, I barely realize the burning sensation on my skin and the feeling of the wind hitting against my body but not in a sense I had ever felt before.

Looking over my shoulder I flinched at what I saw- there is not other way to say it other then the fact that I had sprouted wings, large and dark gray, filling the space behind me with large fuzzy feathers somewhat resembling a hawks feathers- but not only that small fires had lit themselves around my very being, causing the heat I had barely noticed before, this is it. He know’s I’m a monster, it only a matter of second before he leaves-

I was cut off by oh-so-familiar arms wrapping around me, pulling me into a tight hug, burying his face into my neck, I was so taken aback I could do nothing but stand almost limply in his arms, overwhelmed by a emotion I could not place but shocks of energy to each one of my nerves, but it sent a choked sob out of my throat and turned my stomach.

“It’s going to be okay, Y/N, Everything is going be alright.” his arms continued to embrace me, one of his hand resting on the back of my head and gently stroking my hair, although he was unable to soothe me via his powers, those simple words soothed me beyond imagine.

Finally letting a deep breath out the unimaginable weight I hadn’t realized was on my shoulders, I let myself fall into his arm, clutching at his freezing body like it was my only life line to this earth. Broken sobs leaving my lips as he supported my weight.

Once I had calmed down he finally let go of me, wiping the few stray tears from my cheek then ruffling my hair, without saying a single word he took my hand and started leading me away from where we had been, I looked over my shoulder- wings having dissipated at some point during the hug- and saw gray feathers blowing in the wind, scorch marks littering the ground around me.

“Jasper,” I said looking back over to him, “Where are we going?” I asked, He simply glanced at me, offering me a slight smile before stating simply “To the woods.”

“Jazzy that sounds like you’re going to kill me.” I mumbled but still followed him, knowing that was obviously not his intent.

Here only laughed at my statement, shaking his head slightly, if I could see his face I knew there would be a cheeky grin on his face and his gold locks would be perfectly framing his face- the thought made me want to make him look at me right now, however I continued to let him lead me deeper and deeper into the woods, before he let go of my hand- sighing in content.

“This will do.” He stated turning to me, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed.

“Will do for what exactly?” I questioned, he only smiled at me with that aggravatingly beautiful smile that just made me want to squeal like some twelve year old girl.

“For you to do some explaining.”

And with that he somehow convinced me to sit down and tell him all about my big secret- I had never even told him I witnessed my mother die in fear it would bring up to many questions, but now all my cards were out on the table and I spilled my soul to him. I told him about watching the life drain from my mothers body, how I spent months and years searching for answers, how my true “Mother” Visits me in my dream and explained everything, I told his I was technically a demon-angel hybrid, I told him how I pushed everyone away in fear my powers would become out of control as they so often did and cause someone to get hurt.

In the end it was nearly dark out, I had showed Jasper a small snippet of my power that I had showed him before, illuminating us with a small flame within my palm, he took my hand and pulled it closer,

“Hey, watch out Jasper it’s hot.” I said pulling away slightly so he wouldn’t hurt himself, although I quickly remembered he couldn’t feel the fire and it would simply wash over him, realizing my mistake I offered my hand again, a slight blush on my cheeks.

He remained motionless for a moment, before a grin spread across his face and he took my hand again, the hand that wasn’t gingerly caressing my hand floated above the flame, quickly dipping his fingers into the flame causing it to dance around him before pulling his hand away.

“Fascinating.” He almost gawked, looking me in my eyes, his eyes held a glint of fascination and an emotion I couldn’t place.

“What are you thinking about?” I quizzed, he let out a slight hum, letting go of my hand and standing from our position on the ground.

“You said you didn’t have full control of these powers?” He asked, however it sounded more like a statement.

“Yes..” I answered hesitantly.

“Well then,” He said before taking my hand and pulling me up so I was standing in front of him, “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

(I hope this was okay, I’m still suffering a tad from sick brain but I think it’s decent. @shamelessloverhairdopainter If this isn’t to your liking feel free to contact me and i’ll tweak it to your liking :) have a wonderful evening and stay safe everyone)

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likeiwishiknew · 4 years ago

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Azriel x Gwyn - The Beginning

Read on AO3

The air was unnaturally cold.

So cold that Gwyn could see her breath. She stood in the middle of the library, all of the lights turned down, in nothing but her nightdress.

Not another soul was awake, at least none that she could sense. Gwyn couldn’t recall when or how she’d made her way down here. Nor did she remember why. She suspected she was on one of the lower floors from what she could make out. However, it was too dark for her to be certain which one.

A chill ran up her spine, and she could not escape the uneasy feeling that something or someone was watching her. Turning in place, she checked all sides. But she did not see anything out of the ordinary. Still, her heartbeat picked up just as a cool wind breezed past her carrying the sound of a faraway voice.

Find the book and bring it to me. It cooed.

Gwyn spun in the direction of the voice, only to once again find nothing there.

She waited for the voice to speak up again. But didn’t. Yet the feeling that she was being watched did not go away. Gwyn focused for a moment on its words. The voice had mentioned a book. There was only one book it could possibly be talking about, but that thought left her with far more questions than answers.

Who did the voice belong to? And why were they, or it, searching for the book?

Rhysand had made it clear to her that there might be great repercussions should the book fall into the wrong hands. The sense of foreboding she felt from the haunting voice had her more than inclined to believe him. Which left her all the more determined to do anything and everything she could to ensure that did not happen.

Gwyn turned back around only to catch sight of a faceless figure, its sharp teeth inches from her face. Her stomach dropped.

She tried to shout but discovered that she could not find her voice. A wave of terror rushed over her at the realization. And when Gwyn tried to shift away, she found she could not move. Icy dread crept into her veins. It was what she feared most.

Helplessness.

She was helpless.

She turned back around only to catch sight of a faceless figure, its sharp teeth inches from her face. Her stomach dropped.

Gwyn tried to shout but discovered that she could not find her voice. A wave of terror rushed over her at the realization. And when she tried to shift away, she found she could not move. She was helpless. Icy dread crept into her veins.

The monster reached for her face, hands like claws, the second it touched her she jolted awake.

Bolting up from her bed, sweat dripped down her brow, leaving her skin cold and damp. Her breath came in shallow bursts, her throat felt so tight it was a wonder she was breathing, as her heart all but beat out of her chest.

The remnants of her dream began to fade until only the fear remained.

When she tried to recall the finer details of the dream her mind came back blank. Which had her fighting to remember, but no matter how she struggled the memory wouldn't return.

Gwyn let out a sigh. Taking a deep breath, she calmed her breathing. Her heart rate slowly followed.

She fell back onto her bed in a heap, confused and concerned, wondering if she closed eyes she might fall back into whatever nightmare had done this to her.

Gywn turned her head to stare at the blank wall beside her bed.

This was going to be a long night.

- - -

It had been well over a week since he’d last seen or spoken to Gwyn. Nesta told him that Gwyn had a lot of work to catch up on in the library, thus her absence at morning training.

And while that might’ve been partly true, he knew that wasn’t entirely the case. Gwyn was also avoiding him. Because of his conversation with Elain.

His shadows should have warned him of her approach, and yet they hadn’t. Though the truth was they often did the strangest things around Gwyn. They reacted to her in ways that they never did anyone else.

If she’d overheard his and Elain’s conversation. It stood to reason she might’ve thought he was admitting to still having feelings for Elain. But that wasn’t the case at all. He’d tried to find her countless times to explain as much to her, but every time he had gone to the library Clotho had told him Gwyn was too busy to see him.

Today was the first day he’d laid eyes on her since that night.

He watched silently from across the ring as Gwyn practiced aiming her fire with Lucien. This was now the second time the male had come to see her. Azriel had been absent during the first visit due to a last-minute assignment from Rhys.

But apparently, according to Cassian, the first lesson has been remarkably successful.

Lucien had managed to teach Gwyn how to call upon her fire.

Azriel watched engrossed in her effort, sending her his quiet encouragement and support. Her eyes were bright and focused as she honed in a target across the ways from her. Her hands alight with fire.

He watched her chest rise as she took in a deep breath and aimed, shooting her fire across the way. In a fury, the flames propelled forward toward their intended target - hitting them dead in the center.

Azriel saw her face go from serious to delighted. A small smile formed on his own lips at her feat. Gwyn jumped up and down in place. In her excitement, she ran straight into Lucien’s arms. With little hesitation, Lucien hugged in her turn, spinning her in a circle. A look of contented happiness on both of their faces.

Azriel could not remember a time he’d ever seen the other male so happy. Not even in the presence of his own mate.

The ease with which they embraced had him thinking it wasn’t the first time they’d done such a thing.

And he loathed the very thought. A part of him wanted to march over pull them apart. But he thought better of it.

He called out to his brother instead.

“Rhys, I need you to call Lucien away.”

It took a beat, but his brother responded shortly thereafter.

“Why is that?”

He had no time to explain.

“Please just do it,” he shot back.

Rhys was silent for a moment, and Azriel worried his brother would deny him this. Thankfully, his concern proved unwarranted.

“Fine,” Rhys returned.

He turned back to the duo just in time to see Lucien set Gwyn back into the ground. Azriel watched Lucien’s expression and posture stiffen, at which point he knew that Rhys had done as he asked.

He overheard Lucien informed Gwyn of as much.

“I must go,” the male told her.

“Why?” she asked with a touch of concern.

“It would seem your High Lord wishes to speak with me.”

Azriel saw Gwyn grow still and he got the feeling she knew exactly what he’d done.

But she did not comment on it, instead, she only nodded, “Alright,” she acknowledged.

Lucien, not knowing her as Azriel did, didn’t pick up on the tiny shift in her tone.

“I’m proud of you Little Red,” he said, rubbing the top of her head affectionately.

Gwyn smiled up at him, “Thank you.”

Lucien’s gaze went to him briefly. The other male’s eyes narrowed on Azriel. But he said nothing, simply headed straight for the stairs.

Azriel watched him go.

When he turned back to Gwyn he found her eyes set upon him. She started toward him and he opted to meet her halfway.

“Why did you have Rhysand call Lucien away?”

He stilled for a moment. It had been days since they’d last spoken and yet her first words to him were regarding Lucien.

Had she even missed him?

Was he only setting himself up for another heartbreak?

“That’s all you have to say?” he returned, voice coming out colder than he intended.

His tone clearly caught her off guard because she appeared less irritated and more concerned.

“Are you upset with me?” she questioned, sounding genuinely perplexed. He most certainly was upset. Though he wasn’t sure if he was upset with her or himself.

“You ran to him,” he managed to say.

Gwyn’s brows inched together in confusion.

“With a look of pure joy on your face you ran into his arms,” Azriel continued.

From the look on her face, she still did not quite understand.

"Anyone looking in would think you loved him,” he finished.

“I do love him,” she replied with little to no hesitation.

He felt something lodge in his throat, making it difficult to breathe.

“I know we’ve not known each other long but I feel a connection to him. He’s like family to me,” she defended, “Like Nesta and Emerie and you.”

“I don’t want to mean the same thing to you that he does.”

She took a step closer to him.

“Then what do you want to be?”

He froze.

And Gwyn all but sighed, “See you can’t answer. Because you don’t know what you want.”

She moved to pass him.

Unthinking, Azriel’s hand darted out and grabbed hold of hers.

He spun her around and cupped her face, bringing their lips close. But he paused, leaving himself just enough room to meet her eyes - to seek permission. Gwyn stared back for a second before giving him a firm nod.

It was all he needed. Azriel brushed his lips over hers, gently at first. Only once Gwyn leaned into him, her warm hand upon his chest, did he deepen the kiss. He wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her in. He could get used to this, the feel of her warm body pressed to his.

Kissing her...it felt like breathing, essential to his survival.

Still, he managed to pull back before he got carried away.

Azriel didn’t wish to rush things between them. He would take his time with her, savoring every moment, every touch.

Meeting her eyes again, he stroked her cheek thoughtfully.

The truth was that he’d known for quite some time what he wanted, he simply never dared to imagine he could have it. Only now did he realize that if he didn’t try, he’d never know. And so, he took a leap of faith.

“I want you Gwyn,” he confessed, staring into her blue-green eyes that seemed to glow as they looked upon him, “And I hope you want me too.”

She placed her hand over his.

“Are you sure about that?” she asked, “Are you sure I’m truly the one you want?”

He hated that she doubted it for a second. But he would tell her as many times as she needed to hear it. He would work every day to prove it to her.

“Yes,” Azriel re-affirmed, “It’s you I want Gwyn.”

He touched his forehead to hers.

“I know I haven’t done enough to make that clear, to reassure you. But it’s true. And I promise to do better. I promise I will show you that I mean everything I say. We can take things at your pace. I will follow your lead without question."

Studying her face, he found she still looked a measure unsure.

“If what you heard in that garden weeks ago is the reason for your uncertainty then allow me to tell you that was a misunderstanding.”

He would not lie, would not sugar coat it, Gwyn deserved the truth. All of it.

"At one time I did want Elain as a mate.”

Gwyn took a step back, dropping her hand and pulling it away. But Azriel managed to catch hold of it. And he held onto it for dear life.

“I saw how happy my brothers were. Rhys and Feyre. Cassian and Nesta. You’ve seen them. They’re perfect for each of her,” he remarked.

By some kindness, Gwyn allowed him to keep hold of her hand. He stroked that back of it with his thumb.

“I wanted what they have. And for whatever reason, I believed that Elain could give that to me. I thought that after everything I’d endured through the centuries, I deserved that sort of happiness.”

Gwyn’s expression softened a touch at the barest mention of his past.

“But that was wrong of me. To think that I could replicate their happiness. To put all those expectations and hopes onto Elain simply because she was there. Three brothers and three sisters,” he paused on that thought, recalling how he’d felt about that in the past, “It all seemed so perfect. So long as I ignored the glaringly obvious issue.”

“Lucien,” she breathed.

He nodded.

“I pretended as though he didn’t exist, convinced myself he wasn’t worthy of Elain. It made it easier to convince myself that the cauldron had made a mistake. But I know now that my feelings for Elain were misconstrued. I didn’t love her. I loved the idea of her, of what believed she could be for me.”

Gwyn seemed to take a deep breath, digesting everything he’d said.

If he were being honest, Azriel was quite certain he’d never spoken so much in his entire life.

“And what do you feel for me?” she questioned.

This was where it got tricky.

“I...I care about you, so much. When you’re not within my sight I find myself looking for you. I miss you whenever I’m away or when you’re gone. I think about you often, more than I probably should," he admitted, "I’m always wondering what you’re doing and if you’re thinking of me too. And I’ve dreamed of kissing you for far too long. And now that I have I hope you’ll let me do it again.”

Her eyes were rimed with unshed tears. He took her face in his hands, gently cupping her cheeks, not caring that he hardly deserved to touch her.

“Please tell what you’re thinking,” he nearly pleaded.

The sound that escaped her was somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle.

“I’m thinking this crazy,” she said at last.

He waited for her to continue.

“I’ve been having these confusing feelings for what must be months now, unsure what was wrong with me. Every time I thought I had it figured out something would happen that made me doubt it all. My thoughts. My feelings. You.”

He swallowed. And once again, he saw the doubt in her eyes. The sight of it broke his heart.

“I don’t - I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know what it means to be in a relationship. If that’s even what this is. If that’s even what you’re asking me,” Gwyn confessed.

“It is,” he confirmed for her.

Gwyn’s eyes held his.

"You’re not the only one who’s unsure about how we go about this, Gwyn. As sure as I am about you, I’ve never done this before either. I’ve had lovers before, but I’ve never been in a truly committed relationship. With my past lovers, we took what we wanted from each other, and once either one wanted out we walked away."

But it would be different with Gwyn.

If this didn’t work out he wasn’t sure he’d be able to walk away unscathed, and he loathed the very idea of this thing between them ever ending.

“But I still want to give this, us, a try. I want to try to be someone worthy of you."

Her brow furrowed, “I’m nothing special, Azriel.”

He let his hand slide down to the back of her neck, gripping it firmly, “That’s where you’re wrong, Gwyn. You’re special, especially to me.”

She reached out her hand and cupped his cheek, her eyes warm, “You’re special to me too,” she spoke in answer.

“Is that a yes?” he asked hopefully.

She cracked a brilliant smile and nodded, “Yes.”

Azriel found himself smiling back. He wasn’t sure what came over him but he pulled her into a tight embrace, lifting her feet straight off the ground before holding her up above him. Gwyn grinned down at him, the bright, silky strands of her hair tickling his face, and he felt the overwhelming need to kiss her again.

And so, because she'd said yes, he did.

~ ~ ~

Author Note: I'm a firm believer that the key to a successful relationship is honesty and communication. So that was the focus of this chapter. I've had these two dancing around each other for a while and it felt high time they behave like reasonable adults and talk about their feelings. You will note, this is not quite a love confession. I do not think we're there yet. But we will get there. We shall definitely get there, and it shall be steamy ;)

Anyways, this chapter was a pleasure to write so I hope you all enjoy it as well. And if you do, please do let me know in the comments!

~ ~ ~

@azrielsshadowsdanceforgwyn @bittermuire @ofstarsanddreams @corrdolium @toolazymyguy @inkdrinkershadowsinger @itswrongsong @dealingdifferentdevils @rhysmoira @brucexselina @inejjg @rhysmoira @gwynnight @fairytamy @bluegold08 @amandapearls @highqueentaey @lioness-says @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @princessofmerchants-reads @cantkeepmyeyesoffofyou-x

@my-fan-side @spookylightkidranch @elucienschild @keramzinskies @itswrongsong @mirubyjane

@lovelywordsandwine @ladygwynriel @parisakamali @mirubyai

#a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #acosf #acotar #gwynriel #azriel x gwyn #azwyn #fanfiction #love #otp #Azriel #gwyneth berdara #ao3 update #read on ao3 #sarah j maas

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thewildwaffle · 4 years ago

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I haven’t posted a humans are weird short in over a month. While I do apologize for that, I do have a reason. I’ve been struggling to find my writing muse, and when it is around, I’ve been focusing my efforts on working on the second draft for Abduction. As I was writing this the first time in real-time, I kind of forgot that some of my characters weren't having enough time in the story to actually form the bonds I wanted them to have. This was true with Simmo in particular. Her arc didn't make much sense or feel quite right because her bond was there in my mind, but not on the page so much. Also, I set up Gamnut 4 to be a minor death world with some "fun" obstacles for everyone to deal with while they were there but then forgot. I'm also adjusting character profiles and arcs and filling up on bonding and world-building moments. You know, second-draft stuff! I wanted to share a scene in particular that I've been working on. I wanted to give Wenona a stronger character profile and place in the narrative, give Simmo more bonding with the rest of the team, and spend more time planet-side on Gamnut 4. So, here's a piece of a new chapter that would belong somewhere between chapters 13 and 14:

*Wenona is on watch duty on Gamnut, but for just a moment falls asleep on duty and has a nightmare where she was back in the holding cell on the Montauk ship. Flashbacks of being captive, hurt, escaping, and fighting. She jolts awake and is trying to calm down and find her center in the silence by the campfire.*

“Do humans dream?” Wenona jumped at the raspy voice. She didn’t realize Simmo was awake. She’d actually forgotten the montauk was there. “What?” Simmo blinked at her for a moment. “Dreams are when the brain processes memories or makes up scenarios while you're unconscious.” “Uh yeah, I know what dreams are.” Wenona rolled off the makeshift chair she’d been in to readjust her blanket. Part of it had fallen off and the night was getting colder. She’d better make sure it wasn’t too comfortable though. She didn’t want to fall asleep on shift again. “Well?” Simmo prodded as soon as she sat back down. Wenona eyed her wearily. “Well what?” Simmo sighed and over-enunciated each word. “Do humans dream?” “Yeah, of course we do. Why?” “Did you just have one?” Wenona bit her lip. Had she been talking in her sleep or something? Oh, if only she hadn’t fallen asleep in the first place! “Why do you care?”

Simmo gingerly gestured at her bandages. “I care for my safety. Your sefra friend filled me in on how they found you. There aren’t many beings that wouldn't be traumatized after that. I don't want to be on the receiving end if you have some sort of episode or something in your sleep.” “And you think I'd attack you in my sleep because you're also a montauk or because you already tried to kill us once?” Simmo only hummed in response. Wenona stared into the small flickers of the fire. They weren’t quite big enough to keep the encroaching chill of the night away. “Well anyway,” Wenona used a long log to prod the embers before placing it carefully in the fire, “dreams or not, it won’t be an issue if you just keep well away from me.” Simmo scoffed. “Oh, no worries there. I’m still recuperating from the last time I got too close to you and your little friend.” There was silence for a while. Wenona blew on the coals and coaxed the flickers into a full fire again. She watched it intently as if the little flames could burn away the images she’d just relived again in her dreams.” Simmo surprised Wenona by breaking the silence. “I'm not like them, you know.” “What?” “Those montauk that abducted you." Simmo's eyes never left her twitching hands as she spoke. "I'm, well I certainly have done things in my life I'm not proud… but I don’t want to be lumped in with that lot, I don’t… they’re not even my hive anyway. Montauks… we don’t get along with others outside our… and my hive is… is...” There was a long pause. Wenona shifted her blanket around her shoulders and waited for the montuak to continue. The renewed fire crackled while Wenona waited for her to continue. “Yeah?” she promoted after a moment. “Nothing,” Simmo snapped quietly. “They’re gone. Never mind.” She shuffled to face away from Wenona again and lay still as if she had gone back to sleep. It would almost be convincing if Wenona couldn’t hear her mandibles clattering or see how tense her antennae looked. Wenona shook her head. Not her circus, not her monkeys, she kept telling herself in her head over and over. She had her own problems to deal with, and she certainly didn’t want to have a heart to heart with a montauk at this planet’s equivalent of four in the morning. Even still, she couldn’t stop Simmo’s words from running through her head. Hives. Jeb had said earlier that montauks were hive-centric They lived in large families and colonies and, with few exceptions, rarely intermingled with others in opposing hives. ‘Like ants,’ Wenona had concluded. ‘Uh, sure,’ Jeb had said. He didn’t know what ants were, but after some explaining, he agreed their inter-colonial societal structures were similar. But Simmo had said her hive was gone? Was that meaning her whole hive colony back wherever she came from, or like that her crew was gone? The more she thought about it, the more she tended to think it was the latter. If her crew had been essentially family... Wenona couldn’t help but draw comparisons to herself. But her family wasn’t the one that was gone. She was. And she still had a chance to reunite with them, however slim that chance was. But Simmo’s chances? Wenona tried not to think about how she would feel if she were in her place. Wenona continued to stoke the fire. She looked up at the sky. Both of the planet’s moons were starting to set and soon the night would get even darker. It was still a while until dawn came. “Hey Simmo?” There wasn’t a response, but Wenona saw a twitch and knew she was still awake and listening. “Do montauks dream?” Again there was no response, but after a moment, Simmo shifted her legs, pulling all of them closer into the rest of her body. Wenona watched her silently for a while. Only days before, montauks were nothing more than her monsters, the beasts of her nightmares. But now? What kind of monsters did her monsters dream of? The rest of her watch was pretty quiet and uneventful. Wenona waited until she was sure Simmo had fallen asleep. Quietly, she stood and removed her blanket and slowly approached Simmo's huddled form. The night was cold and she wasn't sure Simmo was warm-blooded or not. If nothing else, the dumb bug had scooted too far away from the fire to be able to keep warm that way. As gently as she could so as to not wake her up, Wenona draped the blanket over her and returned to her spot by the fire.

#abduction #wenona #simmo #writing #aliens #space #humans

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colourfullsims · 4 years ago

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An Overdue Update

Hey there! Long time no see.

It’s been quite a while since my last update (and several times that I’ve said I would update that fell through lol), but I think it’s finally the perfect time to tell you all what’s been going on behind the scenes. I’ve kept most of you all in the dark with no explanation for my hiatus for months now, but with the end of the year upon us, I want things out in the open before moving into 2021. I will warn you now, that this will be a long post, because there’s a lot of backstory I have to lay out to explain everything. There will also be some brief mentions of emotional manipulation and emotional abuse in the beginning of this post, which I will be content tagging for safety, so please skip over the first question if you would like to avoid this subject.

Now without further ado, I will be answering some frequently asked questions, starting with:

Q: Where did you go?

The short answer to this is that I took a very long, unwanted break from the community, but that answer doesn’t really suffice in explaining why. Typically, I like to keep things lighthearted and chill on this blog, because much of the reason why I play the Sims and do storytelling is for escapism. Things that happened this year took that away from me.

This spring, I broke up with my long term boyfriend of five years. With that separation came a lot of heartache, guilt, and stress for a variety of reasons. We’d been together since my days in undergrad and had shared so many intimate experiences together: graduations, moving out of state into our first “grown up” apartment, birthday trips to our favorite cities. We had inside jokes that I still find myself wanting to make with him, because after so much of our lives intertwined together, he’d essentially become my best friend. But things ended between us for good reason.

Despite the good that came out of that relationship, there was a fair amount of emotional manipulation/abuse that went on, early as the first few months of us being official. Sometimes it was subtle things: when we first started dating, I was in my final year of undergrad and doing all I could to bring up my gpa and buff up my resume, so that I could increase my chances of getting into my grad school of choice. Frequently, he would comment on my academic successes as if they would be the thing that would break us up. I remember presenting a paper on a panel, facing my fear of public speaking head on, and I was so proud of the work I’d put into it all, and then hours later coming back to my student apartment to tell him how it went, and the first words out of his mouth were, “Someday you’re gonna get too smart and leave me behind.” And that wouldn’t be the last time he said some iteration of that phrase to me, and every time it would feel like he was praying I would slow down so he wouldn’t feel I was outgrowing him. Even when I finally did get accepted to my dream school, my first thought after my excitement was that when I told him the news, he wouldn’t be happy for me. My decisions for my future became personal slights to him: I had to move from the midwest out to NYC to attend grad school, and even though I discouraged him from following me if he didn’t want to live in the city (which he 100% did not), he followed me anyway and hung that decision over my head like a giant reminder of some debt that I owed him. I regret not following my gut then and my failure to recognize the red flags, because I would go on to spend 3 more years after our move losing myself as he clutched onto me, in what I can only assume with the hope that if he held on tight enough, that I wouldn’t leave him behind.

When I look at the more overt signs of my ex’s possessiveness, I realize I should have shared what was going on more with the people close to me: in the early stages on our relationship, he’d already done destructive things like slashing the tires of a guy I had been seeing earlier that same year, and punching a hole into the wall of my student apartment. He’d gone through all my messages on social media, my texts, my emails, all to find out about old crushes that he suspected I might still be in contact with. He even went as far as reading through my private journal, which I previously wrote in daily, but now I struggle to write in more than a few times a year, for fear of my privacy being invaded again. In the wake of realizing our relationship was failing, instead of ending things, I put my energy into hoping that he would do better, and I hid what was happening from my family and friends, to the point that I avoided their messages and phone calls. I isolated myself in increasing measures as time went on until I was too timid to do most things outside of my apartment without my ex-boyfriend by my side. The reason I stayed so long is because of these combined things: the sense of owing him my time after uprooting his life, the fact that I was both physically and mentally separated from my support systems, the feeling of familiarity that had grown from shared experiences and time, and largely, this overwhelming self imposed desire to not appear as though I had failed my relationship.

Largely, 2020 has been an absolute trash fire, but I can thank this year for one thing; putting me into a situation of such unrest that I could no longer ignore that I was not living the life I wanted or deserved.

After our breakup, I moved back to my parents’ place and stayed there while the remainder of my lease in New York ran out. When I originally left, I only brought back a small suitcase and backpack filled with essentials and valuable items that I couldn’t leave behind in my apartment, so I had to return again to retrieve my things, which, as you can imagine, was not fun. Not only was traveling during covid a nightmare, my ex was threatening to throw all my stuff out of our apartment, so I had to scramble to get a flight, a hotel, moving equipment, and a moving service arranged on the fly so I could retrieve everything (and when I got there, he had smashed one of my laptops). In summation, from our break up to finally moving out completely, this all happened over the span of mid-spring to the 1st of August.

Since then, I’ve been keeping myself sparse on the internet, partially because I needed the time to recover from the entire experience, and partially because frankly, I’ve been afraid of my ex monitoring any of my accounts to keep tabs on me. He was fully aware of this blog, and since in recent years it's been the only account I’ve kept up with, I was afraid of him trying to find out where I am and what I’ve been doing through here. I’ve only felt comfortable reblogging others content for the past few months.

So that’s where I’ve been. Which brings us to the next question:

Q: What happened to Love Island?

Over the past few months, I’ve received several asks and messages about whether or not I still planned on doing the Love Island challenge, as well as words of concern about my well being. I want to start by acknowledging all those messages by first apologizing to anyone I didn’t get back to: the majority of you got the sense that I was overwhelmed or burnt out, as most of us have been this year, and I really thank you for still having any interest in seeing me do any type of content after I essentially ghosted you all lol. I really appreciate all the well wishes too.

But I also received this:

Which, 1) I don’t know if this was either impeccable timing or horrible timing on your part, considering I planned on writing this update before this landed in my inbox.

And 2),

I don’t know if you were a reader or one of the participants selected for the challenge, but I’m sorry you’re disappointed about me not following through with the challenge. I was really excited to do it when I made the casting call, was ecstatic about the number of creators who submitted complex and diverse sims, and I had even completed the villa and started working on shooting the premiere. But as you can see from everything above, life happened. I wish this year had been more stable so that I could have done the challenge with no problem.

But I’m not going to apologize for making the choices I needed to to preserve my mental health and safety.

That being said, it’s been so many months since I originally pitched the challenge; many of the creators who were selected are now inactive or have deactivated. And honestly, I didn’t know whether you all would even want the challenge at the point, I mean…? It’s winter time now, and Love Island was definitely more of a summer themed challenge lol.

As it stands, I don’t know if I will be picking up where I left off with the Love Island challenge. I certainly still have some interest in doing it; I built a whole set and had an entire schedule of challenges and dates planned for the project. But I don’t know if I can move forward with the original cast, or if I would have to do a new casting call to fill the spaces of inactive creators. So...I guess I would need feedback from you all. Would you want Love Island still?

Q: What are you planning to do now?

Right now, I’m doing whatever makes me happy. I’m in a much better place than I was about 6 months ago, and I don’t feel the same anxiety about posting as I did. For now, I might just post some casual gameplay until I know whether or not I’m moving forward with Love Island. I’m just happy to come back to do what I love.

So there you have it. 2020 kicked my ass in some really heart wrenching ways, and I needed some time to not worry about keeping up with content creation and just worry about taking care of me. Now that I’m a little more stable, I want to come back, even if it’s just simple stuff for now. To those of you who have stuck around waiting to see if I’d ever pick my projects back up, thank you so much, and I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting this long lol. For the time being, all I have to offer is a very long overdue Follower’s Gift: I will be hosting a giveaway for my followers this week, where I will be giving away $40 worth of sims content each to 3 followers. I’ll have more details about the giveaway tomorrow when the official post goes live.

If you made it this far thank you for reading this long mess, and I’ll see you all soon!

~Cam

#update #updates #cw: emotional abuse #cw: emotional manipulation #emotional manipulation cw #emotional abuse cw #emotional manipulation #emotional abuse #non sims #nonsims #if you made it past that block of tags #i'm doing okay now i promise #i wouldn't force myself back just to jeopardize my mental health #thank you for caring about me #even you mean anon #cause you cared enough to send that lol #but seriously thank you #colourfullsims

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mudwingpropaganda · 4 years ago

Photo

(Princess) Kinkajou of the RainWings

I want to believe that Kinkajou is actually a biological descendant of Grandeur, but it doesn’t truly matter because she was supporting Glory for the throne and heritage does not equal merit. Kinkajou is fascinating character who took so many punches yet shes never properly thanked or appreciated for them? I think Kinkajou ought to be more painfully optimistic. As a partial foil to Sunny. She’s not optimistic because she NEEDS to be the one keeping the group optimistic. Kinkajou remains happy because of somewhat emotionally stunting double standards in the RainWing queendom and the act that tears only get you so far. Confidence and energy is what people respond to.

Kinkajou deserves so much more than what canon gave her. Tui might have said “her story is over,” but I seriously disagree. Let’s open her book in the first place.

Design headcanons

I may have leaned a tad far into the idea of her design being physically representational of my ideas for her, but let’s just say these are her comfort colors. The default! They spontaneously flicker with pink and yellow patterns but her default is a banana yellow and bright pink combination, with intruding grey scales on the edge of her torso. (I imagine her underbelly is also similarly melting into pink colors, as her wings are. I just didn’t have the foresight while drawing this.)

I referenced a kinkajou in designing Kinkajou! As a result, her paws seem a little too big for her and she has little ears as opposed to Glory’s more serpentine/bird appearance. Kinkajou’s frill is an example of a feathered RainWing that have plumage similar to a bird of paradise that is also susceptible to the color changing pigmentation.

Her eyes are a striking jungle green, the most natural color on her.

I believe that her time under the NightWing’s grasp definitely should have a more visual representation on her. It may be exaggerated but... art is such. She retains indents where cuffs and chains essentially squeezed on her scales and snout. Her scales tend to dull and turn grey if she is not consciously keeping control over these body parts, yet she has more trouble changing the color of her afflicted indents.

Her wing is illustrated with the venom wound she suffered from the accident she had in the Queen competition. Her wings struggled to fold back into her sides after the event and regardless if she had these scars removed or not through “magic,” she finds it awkward trying to put her wings back.

I imagine she had more of a full mane of plumage in store, but due to the stress on the island, they struggle to grow healthily behind her ears.

A personal headcanon of mine is the most noticable circular scales on a RainWing is the clearest indicator of their current emotions. Glory’s was an angry red-orange. Kinkajou’s tends to default, like her indents, to a grey if she doesn’t pay attention. A numbness.

Miscellaneous thoughts

Kinkajou could have been a fascinating case study about the flaws of the RainWings’ lifestyle. Rather than their flaws being a foolish, uneducated, lazy tribe, the RainWings could have been at fault for putting too much trust in their young, making subjects feel obligated to put on a happy face, and their violently isolationist tendencies. Dragonets may be obligated to reach out to adults for help if they need it, not the other way around. That’s why she self isolated to personally focus on her venom practice lest infuriate Bromeliad further. It’s why she maintains a bright yellow and pink coloration rather than subject other dragons to her emotions. It’s why Kinkajou never quite thought she would be able to escape the NightWing island.

When she was young, Queen Grandeur also realized that Kinkajou was one of her own descendants, making Kinkajou a princess. Grandeur may have been the only one concerned catching wind that Kinkajou went missing, but her perception of RainWings as lazy beings was a personal bias that took away any sympathy she had for her offspring, assuming the dismissals were true that she simply went lost in the woods.

Kinkajou’s upbringing really affected her! She begins dropping her ideals of being an ideal RainWing due to her trauma chipping away at her. Especially the fact that she now realizes the extents of what the Queen, her friend, Glory, goals mean when it comes to a symbiotic shared queendom between the RainWings and those who experimented on her for months, or maybe even longer, until Glory finally took action.

Kinkajou retains scars from the NightWing island, both physical and mentally. Scars from her bonds and greying scales from a jarring transfer from a flourishing environment to something significantly harmful for her body and color shifting scales. And aside from that, she developed PTSD from the events on the island. Between nightmares, the occasional flashback if someone jostles her... she herself has compartmentalized the experience so she herself doesn’t fully remember the events of the island. But she remembers things at extremely inconvenient times. Especially around NightWings.

Her friendship with Moonwatcher was initially based on the mental note she makes that Moonwatcher isn’t a “real NightWing.” Originally, Queen Glory asked that Kinkajou, as her friend, made the effort to connect with NightWings attending the school, which panicked her. But Moonwatcher didn’t have anything to do with it. In fact, she spent as much time and she did in the rainforest! If not, more. And there’s an envy that Moon never faced any of the ugliness of the NightWings! But a disconnect that maintains their friendship. It isn’t until they begin to bond on their across the world adventure that they begin to trust each other outside of the fact that they were supposed to. It’s difficult! Of course! Especially when Chameleon (another great victim of the RainWing culture), taking the form of Shapeshifter to incapacitate her. Yet it was Moon’s face that greeted her when she woke from her coma. Who had been by her side intent on her recovery.

A lot of what Kinkajou does is to try and reinstate normality and an environment she finally feels comfortable in, essentially! She feels out of touch with other RainWing dragonets, not enough to be around them, and inevitably confides her self worth mostly to the Jade Winglet, as they don’t know what a RainWing is supposed to be like. She assigns a crush to Winter to make her childhood feel more normal, even if she doesn’t really feel it.

Kinkajou has internalized a LOT of the shit that was thrown at her. To the point where she doesn’t consciously recognize that she’s been putting on a happy face for so long, aside when she needs to put her scales back in their classic pink and yellow. Even when Moon sees her mind, she struggles to recognize if those thoughts really belong to her or not, assuming the ash and glow of lava is that of a NightWings’, not hers.

Queen Glory is the main dragon that teaches her how to read. Her and Moonwatcher were both somewhat or basically illiterate when they started their educations. But are both are passionate about literature. Where Kinkajou becomes an avid writer and attempts to to become a journalist for kingdom specific and international news for the continent! She assists Starflight in the library of Jade Mountain occasionally. But she also helps establish libraries and such in the Rain Forest! She helps Glory develop an education system that doesn’t sacrifice culture for secular curriculum.

LGBT+ headcanons

I would say that Kinkajou is a questioning genderqueer individual and still uses she/her pronouns but is growing partial to neutral they/them and doesn’t object to other terms used to address her. She is generally flexible with how she is perceived as long as she is perceived respectfully.

Kinkajou is also panromantic but also on the aro and ace spectrums! She muses the idea of finding a partner eventually, but finds platonic relationships easier to establish and grow than the prospect of a romantic one. Like how she simply plays with the idea of Winter being her crush for the sake of personal normalcy in her childhood and, honestly, Anemone’s little innocent emotional manipulation spell? Yeah. That never happened. Kinkajou’s oblivious to Turtle’s feelings. Attractions fly RIGHT over her head, from others or her own self. She also may have queer platonic partners perhaps? I don’t make the rules. Love is love! uwu

#wingsoffire #wings of fire #wof #kinkajou wof #wof kinkajou #wof rainwing #rainwings #wof redesign #sebastiowu #enigmew

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undyingsunshine · 4 years ago

Note

YESSSSS YOU’RE BACK AND TAKING ASKS

14 and 15 for the most recent post, and I’m gonna come back with more too

Here we go!!!!

14. At what point in writing do you come up with a title?

Honestly, it usually differs from piece to piece! Usually, though, the title comes last! (Though I do have a short list of potential titles for Li Cu fics stored away, most of which are just lyrics from songs xD Whether I end up using them or not, only time will tell!)

15. Which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?

All of these tend to give me a bit of trouble xD if I was to rank from hardest to easiest however, I think I'd say titles are the hardest and tags tend to be the easiest. For summaries I usually just slap a portion of the fic in and then add a small almost-summary below it, mostly because I feel like giving a sample of the fic will be more effective than trying to give a succinct description? Kind of shows you what you're getting into before you've even clicked xD

Titles, I use a lot of lyrics from songs, especially ones that I think fit with the character. Though, this does sometimes mean my titles are... long and it can make it a little awkward when trying to talk about the fics themselves. xD

Examples include;

"Come with me, I promise the water is fine..." Which is a lyric from God Bless Eric Taylor by Marietta, a song that I relate to Li Cu somewhat.

This next one is the title of a chapter instead of a whole fic, but I'll count it anyway xD Chapter 2 of I'm Here is titled: "I have this dream that I'm hitting my dad with a baseball bat and he is screaming and crying for help..." which is from the song Father by The Front Bottoms.

I ideally try to make it so that the lyrics also match up with the contents of the chapter/fic. I'm Here's second chapter is all about Li Cu's nightmares, so I thought the title would be pretty fitting xD Honestly, thinking back maybe I could've added more types of dreams.... Ones that fit that title even more.... Small rewrite of that Chapter perhaps? I don't think it would be that different, but still... Would add more angst onto everything xD

The title for "Come with me..." Also sort of relates to the contents of the fic, but moreso in the following line that appears in the summary: "I need something else to comvince me I won't die."

Honestly these lines could have me ranting a whole lot, especially in relation to Li Cu. Just makes me think of all his conflicted feelings, and how he must feel when he drags his friends into the mess he didn't even make. (And these feeling really would increase after Su Wan blames him for the snake bite and getting Shen Qiong inveolved, and during just... the entirety of the time he, Yang Hao, Su Wan and Liang Wan are in the desert together. (ESPECIALLY when Yang Hao is being absolutely mistreated by the 9 families, like sheesh.)

It's just a whole lot of guilt, but also maybe some stubborn determination? Li Cu is very adamant on living just to spit in the face of everyone around him. Existing out of pure spite, but with friends involved, it's more like he's existing to fulfil a purpose? One that he feels like he's bestowed upon himself. Not Wu Xie, or Rishan, or anyone. Just him. He stays alive so he can protect his friends. He'll keep them safe, he'll get them home alive. He has to. And he knows that he will. Or else, what is he even persevering for? "I need something to convince me I won't die." In the fic, this could also be referring to Wu Xie, as he kind of marks safety by the end of the drama. Wu Xie being there means it's okay. It means he doesn't have to fight anymore. And in the fic, it also means that Li Cu can let go. Of Everything. Permanently. (I have so many branching ideas based on that 300 word demon of a fic, you wouldn't even believe)

ANYWAY I'LL STOP RANTING ABT THAT FIC MAYBE I'LL TALK ABOUT THAT FIC MORE IN DEPTH SOME OTHER TIME IF PPL WANT IT.

As for tags, I struggle mostly because I never know what's okay to tag? I'm afraid of tagging a fic with something if the content of that particular tag doesn't show up all that much in the fic? Unless it's something that's a potnential trigger, and then I'll tag it, even if it's small. Just ot be safe. But like. Characters, I don't tag unless they're actually there and present and doing something. If they're mentioned, I tend to not tag them since it's not all that crucial? For people to know they show up for a second? Idk, I like to be as succinct and precise as possible with my tags, because I know how annoying it is for tags to be clogged or for fics to have too many tags xD

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

I have a few, surprisingly! I'll choose two, both from the second chapter of I'm Here!

"Each one makes him wake up, terrified and shaky and wanting to hide or just outright stop existing; to become intangible, untouchable, safe. Of course, he can't actually do that, so instead he pushes the fear down and suffocates it before burying it in the backyard of his mind in the hopes it'll never be dug up again."

Something I try and do while writing is find ways to explain how I. Just. Experience life? (This is also present in Chapter 1 with the line "Further frustration gathered in his chest, making it tighten with stress before it shot up into his throat". Just little things that I've never really seen in words before? That I feel but never know how to accurately describe.) There's always the whole "let the void swallow me/him/her/them whole" thing in media that I love because, honestly, mood. But I guess for this I just wanted to word it differently? In the way I felt was most accurate to myself. Just to be in a state of which nothing can get you, be it life or that one imaginary demon that you sometimes think is lurking around the house at the convenient time of 3 AM, Y'know? When real life becomes TOO real and you just want to blip out for a second, just pause everything and have a moment to be free of everything xD

I also just kind of like the metaphor(?) with his fear. Trust Li Cu to not only associate feelings with violence, but also treat his feelings violently xD I feel like I'm not the best when it comes to imagery and creative expression, especially through words. I point out the obvious, the facts, a lot, both when speaking normally and in writing, and it takes a bit of time for me to remember that I'm writing a story and not jotting a list of events xD So anytime I actually come up with something more kind of creatively written, I feel particularly happy with myself.

"He can't even fully comprehend what's been going on - everything feels bizarre and just out of reach, moreso than usual - but what he does know is that Wu Xie is here and he's angry. The man stands above Li Cu, his cold calculating eyes burning him with wordless accusations that, despite their ambiguity, feel justified. There's guilt, desperation and denial crashing inside him like waves assaulting a rickety raft on a stormy sea. What these feelings are for, he doesn't know. It makes him want to plead for forgiveness all the same."

Let's be honest, Li Cu probably has way too many mixed feelings on Wu Xie. The man who simultaneously built him up and destroyed him. The man who caused him agony, but is also probably one of the best things to come into Li Cu's life??? Like damn, I think I'd be pretty conflicted if I was Li Cu. And things only get worse when, in this fic's timeline, Wu Xie essentially ghosts Li Cu out of guilt for what he did to the kid. This is taken wrong by Li Cu, and he ends up feeling abandoned. By his own kidnapper. I just feel like this snippet is pretty okay at capturing all the blame he puts onto himself, and captures some of the trauma that comes with the events of Sha Hai as well. I just kind of like how this paragraph turned out in the end. xD

6. What character do you have the most fun writing

LI CU!!! Absolutely Li Cu. I don't know exactly what it is but it just. Clicks with me? Or at least the version I write of himd does, it's probably not even close to Li Cu's canon portrayal xD Maybe it's because of the fact that I'm also an angsty, angry 19 year old that I feel as such? It's much easier to put myself in the mind of a teenage boy rather than a 40 year old man xD In terms of non DMBJ writings, I have OCs that I love writing for! Funnily enough, one is an angsty 19 year old boy with a lot of self-worth issues (ringing any bells?) and the other is an angry, confused and conflicted character that was modified to be a kind of living weapon, but had since escaped and repressed all their memories of what happened. Though, the memories eventually start to resurface and they begin to question themself a whole lot, with flashbacks haunting the corners of their mind and driving them deeper and deeper into guilt-filled despair.

In general, angsty characters with a lot of conflicted emotions are super fun to write for! To flicker around from thought to thought and dive into all the hidden feelings that a character can have. It's just super enjoyable for me xD

#writing this while also writing an essay #it's helping me turn those rusty head gears #i feel like i can finally write things again xD #THANK YOU FOR THE ASKS SIERRA! I hope my answers were satisfactory!! xD #i think i went way too off-topic with some of these but honestly when do i ever stay on topic????#ask game #undying prattle #ramblerambleramble #miiiight edit this tomorrow to make it more comprehensible #but for now you can have this mess of a post xD

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