#and seem to take great joy in pointing out bad things to the exclusion of all else

[dietraumerei]

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[ganymedesclock]

These are questions I've had for some while and it's hard to find someone who'll answer with grace. This mostly relates to disabilities (mental or physical) in fiction.

1) What makes a portrayal of a disability that's harming the character in question ableist?

2) Is there a way to write a disabled villain in a way that isn't ableist?

In the circles I've been in, the common conceptions are you can't use a character's disability as a plot point or showcase it being a hindrance in some manner. heaven forbid you make your villain disabled in some capacity, that's a freaking death sentence to a creative's image. I understand historically villains were the only characters given disabilities, but (and this is my personal experience) I've not seen as many disabled villains nowadays, heck, I see more disabled heroes in media nowadays.

Sorry if this comes off as abrasive, I'd really like to be informed for future media consumption and my own creative endeavors.

Okay so the first thing I'm going to say is that while it IS a good idea to talk to disabled people and get their feedback, disabled people are not a monolith and they aren't going to all have the same take on how this goes.

My personal take is biased in favor that I'm a neurodivergent person (ADHD and autism) who has no real experience with physical disabilities, so I won't speak for physically disabled people- heck, I won't even speak for every neurotype. Like I say, people aren't a monolith.

For myself and my own writing of disabled characters, here's a couple of concepts I stick by:

Research is your friend

Think about broad conventions of ableism

Be mindful of cast composition

1. Research is your friend

Yeah this is the thing everybody says, so here's the main bases I try to cover:

What's the story on this character's disability?

Less in terms of 'tragic angst' and more, what kind of condition this is- because a congenital amputee (that is to say, someone who was born without a limb) will have a different relationship to said limb absence than someone who lost their limb years ago to someone who lost their limb yesterday. How did people in their life respond to it, and how did they respond to it? These responses are not "natural" and will not be the same to every person with every worldview. This can also be a great environment to do worldbuilding in! Think about the movie (and the tv series) How To Train Your Dragon. The vikings in that setting don't have access to modern medicine, and they're, well, literally fighting dragons and other vikings. The instance of disability is high, and the medical terminology to talk about said disabilities is fairly lackluster- but in a context where you need every man you possibly can to avoid the winter, the mindset is going to be not necessarily very correct, but egalitarian. You live in a village of twenty people and know a guy who took a nasty blow to the head and hasn't quite been the same ever since? "Traumatic Brain Injury" is probably not going to be on your lips, but you're also probably going to just make whatever peace you need to and figure out how to accommodate Old Byron for his occasional inability to find the right word, stammers and trembles. In this example, there are several relevant pieces of information- what the character's disability is (aphasia), how they got it (brain injury), and the culture and climate around it (every man has to work, and we can't make more men or throw them away very easily, so, how can we make sure this person can work even if we don't know what's wrong with them)

And that dovetails into:

What's the real history, and modern understandings, of this?

This is where "knowing the story" helps a lot. To keep positing our hypothetical viking with a brain injury, I can look into brain injuries, what affects their extent and prognosis, and maybe even beliefs about this from the time period and setting I'm thinking of (because people have had brains, and brain injuries, the entire time!) Sure, if the setting is fantastical, I have wiggle room, but looking at inspirations might give me a guide post.

Having a name for your disorder also lets you look for posts made by specific people who live with the condition talking about their lives. This is super, super important for conditions stereotyped as really scary, like schizophrenia or narcissistic personality disorder. Even if you already know "schizophrenic people are real and normal" it's still a good thing to wake yourself up and connect with others.

2. Think about broad conventions of ableism

It CAN seem very daunting or intimidating to stay ahead of every single possible condition that could affect someone's body and mind and the specific stereotypes to avoid- there's a lot under the vast umbrella of human experience and we're learning more all the time! A good hallmark is, ableism has a few broad tendencies, and when you see those tendencies rear their head, in your own thinking or in accounts you read by others, it's good to put your skeptical glasses on and look closer. Here's a few that I tend to watch out for:

Failing the “heartwarming dog” test

This was a piece of sage wisdom that passed my eyeballs, became accepted as sage wisdom, and my brain magnificently failed to recall where I saw it. Basically, if you could replace your disabled character with a lovable pet who might need a procedure to save them, and it wouldn’t change the plot, that’s something to look into.

Disability activists speak often about infantilization, and this is a big thing of what they mean- a lot of casual ableism considers disabled people as basically belonging to, or being a burden onto, the able-bodied and neurotypical. This doesn’t necessarily even need to have an able neurotypical in the picture- a personal experience I had that was extremely hurtful was at a point in high school, I decided to do some research on autism for a school project. As an autistic teenager looking up resources online, I was very upset to realize that every single resource I accessed at the time presumed it was talking to a neurotypical parent about their helpless autistic child. I was looking for resources to myself, yet made to feel like I was the subject in a conversation.

Likewise, many wheelchair users have relayed the experience of, when they, in their chair, are in an environment accompanied by someone else who isn’t using a chair, strangers would speak to the standing person exclusively, avoiding addressing the chair user. 

It’s important to always remind yourself that at no point do disabled people stop being people. Yes, even people who have facial deformities; yes, even people who need help using the bathroom; yes, even people who drool; yes, even people whose conditions impact their ability to communicate, yes, even people with cognitive disabilities. They are people, they deserve dignity, and they are not “a child trapped in a 27-year-old body”- a disabled adult is still an adult. All of the “trying to learn the right rules” in the world won’t save you if you keep an underlying fear of non-normative bodies and minds.

This also has a modest overlap between disability and sexuality in particular. I am an autistic grayromantic ace. Absolutely none of my choices or inclinations about sex are because I’m too naive or innocent or childlike to comprehend the notion- disabled people have as diverse a relationship with sexuality as any other. That underlying fear- as mentioned before- can prevent many people from imagining that, say, a wheelchair user might enjoy sex and have experience with it. Make sure all of your disabled characters have full internal worlds.

Poor sickly little Tiffany and the Red Right Hand

A big part of fictional ableism is that it separates the disabled into two categories. Anybody who’s used TVTropes would recognize the latter term I used here. But to keep it brief:

Poor, sickly little Tiffany is cute. Vulnerable. How her disability affects her life is that it constantly creates a pall of suffering that she lives beneath. After all, having a non-normative mind or body must be an endless cavalcade of suffering and tragedy, right? People who are disabled clearly spend their every waking moment affected by, and upset, that they aren’t normal!

The answer is... No, actually. Cut the sad violin; even people who have chronic pain who are literally experiencing pain a lot more than the rest of us are still fully capable of living complex lives and being happy. If nothing else, it would be literally boring to feel nothing but awful, and people with major depression or other problems still, also, have complicated experiences. And yes, some of it’s not great. You don’t have to present every disability as disingenuously a joy to have. But make a point that they own these things. It is a very different feeling to have a concerned father looking through the window at his angel-faced daughter rocking sadly in her wheelchair while she stares longingly out the window, compared to a character waking up at midnight because they have to go do something and frustratedly hauling their body out of their bed into their chair to get going.

Poor Sickly Little Tiffany (PSLT, if you will) virtually always are young, and they virtually always are bound to the problems listed under ‘failing the heartwarming dog’ test. Yes, disabled kids exist, but the point I’m making here is that in the duality of the most widely accepted disabled characters, PSLT embodies the nadir of the Victim, who is so pure, so saintly, so gracious, that it can only be a cruel quirk of fate that she’s suffering. After all, it’s not as if disabled people have the same dignity that any neurotypical and able-bodied person has, where they can be an asshole and still expect other people to not seriously attack their quality of life- it’s a “service” for the neurotypical and able-bodied to “humor” them.

(this is a bad way to think. Either human lives matter or they don’t. There is no “wretched half-experience” here- if you wouldn’t bodily grab and yank around a person standing on their own feet, you have no business grabbing another person’s wheelchair)

On the opposite end- and relevant to your question- is the Red Right Hand. The Red Right Hand does not have PSLT’s innocence or “purity”- is the opposite extreme. The Red Right Hand is virtually always visually deformed, and framed as threatening for their visual deformity. To pick on a movie I like a fair amount, think about how in Captain America: The Winter Soldier, the title character is described- “Strong. Fast. Had a metal arm.” That’s a subtle example, but, think about how that metal arm is menacing. Sure, it’s a high tech weapon in a superhero genre- but who has the metal arm? The Winter Soldier, who is, while a tormented figure that ultimately becomes more heroic- scary. Aggressive. Out for blood.

The man who walks at midnight with a Red Right Hand is a signal to us that his character is foul because of the twisting of his body. A good person, we are led to believe, would not be so- or a good person would be ashamed of their deformity and work to hide it. The Red Right Hand is not merely “an evil disabled person”- they are a disabled person whose disability is depicted as symptomatic of their evil, twisted nature, and when you pair this trope with PSLT, it sends a message: “stay in your place, disabled people. Be sad, be consumable, and let us push you around and decide what to do with you. If you get uppity, if you have ideas, if you stand up to us, then the thing that made you a helpless little victim will suddenly make you a horrible monster, and justify us handling you with inhumanity.”

As someone who is a BIG fan of eldritch horror and many forms of unsettling “wrongness” it is extremely important to watch out for the Red Right Hand. Be careful how you talk about Villainous Disability- there is no connection between disability and morality. People will be good, bad, or simply just people entirely separate from their status of ability or disability. It’s just as ableist to depict every disabled person as an innocent good soul as it is to exclusively deal in grim and ghastly monsters.

Don’t justify disabilities and don’t destroy them.

Superpowers are cool. Characters can and IMO should have superpowers, as long as you’re writing a genre when they’re there.

BUT.

It’s important to remember that there is no justification for disabilities, because they don’t need one. Disability is simply a feature characters have. You do not need to go “they’re blind, BUT they can see the future”

This is admittedly shaky, and people can argue either way; the Blind Seer is a very pronounced mythological figure and an interesting philosophical point about what truly matters in the world. There’s a reason it exists as a conceit. But if every blind character is blind in a way that completely negates that disability or makes it meaningless- this sucks. People have been blind since the dawn of time. And people will always accommodate their disabilities in different ways. Even if the technology exists to fix some forms of blindness, there are people who will have “fixable” blindness and refuse to treat it. There will be individuals born blind who have no meaningful desire to modify this. And there are some people whose condition will be inoperable even if it “shouldn’t” be.

You don’t need to make your disabled characters excessively cool, or give them a means by which the audience can totally forget they’re disabled. Again, this is a place where strong worldbuilding is your buddy- a handwave of “x technology fixed all disabilities”, in my opinion, will never come off good. If, instead, however, you throw out a careless detail that the cool girl the main character is chatting up in a cyberpunk bar has an obvious spinal modification, and feature other characters with prosthetics and without- I will like your work a lot, actually. Even if you’re handing out a fictional “cure”- show the seams. Make it have drawbacks and pros and cons. A great example of this is in the series Full Metal Alchemist- the main character has two prosthetic limbs, and not only do these limbs come with problems, some mundane (he has phantom limb pains, and has to deal with outgrowing his prostheses or damaging them in combat) some more fantastical (these artificial limbs are connected to his nerves to function fluidly- which means that they get surgically installed with no anesthesia and hurt like fuck plugging in- and they require master engineering to stay in shape). We explicitly see a scene of the experts responsible for said limbs talking to a man who uses an ordinary prosthetic leg, despite the advantages of an automail limb, because these drawbacks are daunting to him and he is happier with a simple prosthetic leg.

Even in mundane accommodations you didn’t make up- no two wheelchair users use their chair the exact same way, and there’s a huge diversity of chairs. Someone might be legally blind but still navigate confidently on their own; they might use a guide dog, or they might use a cane. They might even change their needs from situation to situation!

Disability accommodations are part of life

This ties in heavily to the previous point, but seriously! Don’t just look up one model of cane and superimpose it with no modifications onto your character- think about what their lifestyle is, and what kind of person they are!

Also medication is not the devil. Yes, medical abuse is real and tragic and the medication is not magic fairy dust that solves all problems either. But also, it’s straight ableism to act like anybody needing pills for any reason is a scary edgy plot twist. 

(and addiction is a disease. Please be careful, and moreover be compassionate, if you’re writing a character who’s an addict)

3. Be mindful of cast composition

This, to me, is a big tip about disability writing and it’s also super easy to implement!

Just make sure your cast has a lot of meaningful disabled characters in it!

Have you done all the work you can to try and dodge the Red Right Hand but you’re still worried your disabled villain is a bad look? They sure won’t look like a commentary on disability if three other people in the cast are disabled and don’t have the same outlook or role! Worried that you’re PSLT-ing your main character’s disabled child? Maybe the disability is hereditary and they got it from the main character!

The more disabled characters you have, the more it will challenge you to think about what their individual relationship is with the world and the less you’ll rely on hackneyed tropes. At least, ideally.

-

Ultimately, there’s no perfect silver bullet of diversity writing that will prevent a work from EVER being ableist, but I hope this helped, at least!

[mobiusxyearslater]

Rekindling (A Sonally Story)

A/N: This whole thing takes place about two years before the whole AU/Your Dork starts off for context. ~Mun @t-vict101

On a cool night in New Mobotropolis, Princess Sally Acorn is walking back to her cottage from the Tommy Turtle Memorial Hospital. She witnessed her friend, Bunnie Rabbot give birth to her firstborn daughter Annabelle. The whirlwind excitement and joy practically drained Sally’s energy, it was time for much-needed rest. She quietly walked along the dirt path still thinking about her new niece, how cute she looked, and how happy Bunnie and Antoine looked. That’s the kind of love that could last lifetimes. Sally starts to wonder if she could feel that way someday. Well, she did at one point, the only person she felt happy with was-- 

“Hey there Princess! You’re out late!” Sally heard a voice pipe up.

She looked forward to see the source of the cheery voice, well who else could it be? The one and only hero of Mobius, Sonic the Hedgehog, sat there on her porch giving her a soft wave. Sally stared at him for a few moments unsure of what to do. The last time she saw him he was off fighting Doctor Eggman and saving the world once again. That was almost half a year ago. But that was how Sonic was. There was no tying him down after the job was done which led to their romantic relationship being more on and off if anything. 

The ironic part was that their last break-up wasn’t because Sonic wasn’t around. It was because Sally was too busy juggling her life between her duties on the council and her duties as leader. Sonic did confront her about it which led to a big fight then eventually they agreed to go their separate ways. There was a twinge of guilt in Sally’s heart because of that and seeing Sonic there acting as if nothing happened. All Sally could do is muster up a small chuckle as she looks at the blue blur.

“Well, you know me. I’m always busy with one thing or another.” she joked as she took a seat next to Sonic, who gave her a chuckle. 

“Oh, boy don’t I know it! So what was it this time?” He playfully props his chin in his palm, “Council meetings? Ribbon cutting? Oh! A big speech in front of the entire kingdom?”

Sally gives him a small nudge and shakes her head, “Oh shut up. If you have to know, Bunnie and Antoine just had their baby tonight..”

“What??” Sonic perks up, “Those two have a kid now? Man. I feel like I miss out on a lot.”

Sally chuckles and shakes head, “Well that’s what happens when you’re gone for months on end.”

Sonic chuckles and scratches his head, “Heh. Well, I do come back once in a while though so it’s not all bad.

Sally let out a small chuckle and nod looking out to the moon, “Yeah.. I guess so.”

The two sit in silence just watching the moon. There was a feeling that someone should say something but neither of them did instead soaking in the atmosphere. Somehow, someway, the silence was relaxing for them both. No one brought up the past or having to suffer the awkwardness of reliving the whole thing over again. But there was one burning question that rattled in Sally’s head. Of all places to go in the middle of the night, why hers? Sonic still had his parents, his Uncle Chuck, heck he could just crash at Tails’ place if he really wanted to. 

Sally cleared her throat, making Sonic’s ear twitch. “So, you just randomly decided to pop up here?”

Sonic sweats a bit and gives off a nervous chuckle, “I guess I made it too obvious huh?” He looked at her shrugs, “...I guess I just missed you.”

Sally quirks a brow tilting her head, “Is that right?”

Sonic huffs at her tone and tilts his head, “What’s with that tone? I really did miss you.”

Sally chuckles and pats his head, sighing out tiredly, “And I missed you too.”

Still unable to get a read of what she’s thinking, Sonic wags at her at a finger, “...Why do I feel there’s a huge BUT coming up.”

Sally frowns and sighs out, “But… This feels like a pattern..” 

Sonic gives her a confused look, “What do you mean..?”

Through her tiredness she starts to pet through the blue hedgehog’s quills, “...This. Us. You leave for a long time then come back saying you missed me. Old feelings come up and we try again. Then…”

Sonic watched Sally as her words tiredly trailed and looked down to the ground. He always loved Sally, that fact is the solid truth, but being committed was a whole different ball game. Thinking about her words more, he started to see the pattern too. Sure his feelings were genuine at the moment but he’s always changing his mind about them. He started to think that maybe Sally wanted more than just part of him. Maybe she needed all of him, just like he wanted all of her. Maybe just maybe, him leaving for months after each attack isn’t fair to her at all. 

Sonic huffs out a chuckle and slides his hands behind his head, “...You wanna hear something funny?”

Sally rubs the tired out of her eyes and looks at him, “What’s that..?”

Sonic rubs his nose a bit, “While I was gone I actually dated someone for a small while.”

All Sally could do is huff in response, “So you can here in the middle of the night to tell me about your exes to your ex?”

Sonic nudges her a bit, “Just listen for sec. While I was away, I actually dated Amy for a small bit.”

Sally’s brows perk up hearing the news, “Wow. You actually let up and let her catch you huh?”

Sonic shrugs letting a small chuckle, “I did. I was always running and she was always there. I figured that was something I wanted or something. At least I thought I did.”

His words slowly trailed off as he thought about his time with Amy. The pink hedgehog sure was a spitfire. Wherever Sonic went she gladly went along with him for support. He figured giving her one date wouldn’t hurt. Then it turned into two. Then it turned to something exclusive. Their honeymoon phase was sweet but soon after Amy found herself in a bit of a rut. Hopping from city to city, fighting badniks left and right, she was all in on that no doubt but she wanted something more. At first, she thought Sonic was that solution, but when she had him that feeling never really went away.

Sonic sighs out softly circling his thumb in his palm. “So she dumped me. She said something about traveling around to find her purpose or something.”

Sally stared at the dejected hedgehog and softly petted his head, “You’re number one fan dumped you. That must’ve been a blow to the ol’ ego of yours.”

Sonic stifles a small chuckle letting himself relax under Sally’s touch, “Yeah it was but I get it.  It was fine for a while but I guess somewhere down the line. She realized I couldn’t give HER what SHE needed.” He lets out a sigh and looks up at the sky, “...I am proud of her though. Whatever she decides on doing for herself, she’ll be great at it.”

Sally nods in agreement and lets out a small yawn, “Yeah. She’s too determined to let herself fail at anything that’s for sure. She’ll probably be the best.”

Sonic shakes his head and looks at Sally, “Alright, enough about my dating life. What about you? Anyone in your life?”

Sally huffs out a chuckle and shakes her head, “Not really. There have been dates here and there but my busy schedule made it way too difficult to really settle into anything.” 

Sonic snickers a bit, “Woo boy don’t I know it--” he stops himself when he watches Sally’s face slowly fall into a frown, “Come on Sal. I don’t blame you for your hectic schedule.”

Sally gives him a look and crosses her arms, “Isn’t that the reason you dumped me the last time?” 

And there it was. That sting of awkwardness they worked so hard to avoid has finally come to the forefront. The silence draped over them as they sat there with their thoughts. No one knew what exactly to say at that moment. Sally realized she still had her hand on Sonic’s head and quickly pulled away looking away.

Sonic took a deep breath, “I know I gave you grief about it before. I just thought we could be how we used to be when we were 17.” Sally opened her mouth to say something but Sonic held up his hand. “Which I realized now… It can never be like that. I guess… I was…. I dunno.. Anxious about everything changing. You and Rotor on the council, Bunnie and Ant having a kid, Tails being the next inventor of the century, even Amy…” He takes a deep breath and kicks the dirt a bit, “...Seems like everyone is running this race and I'm dead last.”

Sally hums a bit pondering about his words, “...I guess… You’re feeling everyone is outgrowing you…?”

Sonic’s ear twitches and lets out a small pout leaning his chin in his palm, “....Maybe yeah…”

Sally lets out a small laugh and Sonic gives her a pouty look. She nudges him playfully, “Oh stop. I’m laughing because you’re the hero of Mobius. Everyone loves talking about you and practically wants to BE you.”

Sonic huffs out and crosses his arms, “I KNOW! I know I just… feel like I can do… more… Like I could do more for the world, my family, our friends, even you--” 

Sally’s brows perk up at the last part Sonic started to say but cut himself off. It was kinda strange seeing him so vulnerable. Usually, he had a real cocky attitude with everyone and was the brightest in the room. Honestly, this was a side of him that she tried to bring out a lot of the time but he would always brush it off like it was nothing. He seemed almost embarrassed that he was saying all of this out in the open, especially saying it to her.

She softly puts a hand on his shoulder, “...Hey. It’s normal to feel that way. Almost everyone feels that way sometime or another, right?”

Sonic sighs out and looks at her, “Yeah but it’s ME we’re talking about.”

Sally huffs and stands up, “Yeah and I know you better than you think. You’re a guy who takes action. You’re always putting others first before yourself. You’re a hero that inspires everyone to be the best versions of themselves.” She holds out a hand to him, “...Now are you going to stop moping and do something about it?”

Sonic stares at her hand remembering those were the words he said to her years before. He huffs out a chuckle before grasping onto her hand and standing up, “You got me there. And you’re right, like always.”

Sally chuckles and shakes her head, “Of course I am. I’ve known you way too long to be wrong.” 

Sonic chuckles a bit and watches her make her way up to her front door. He leans on the porch rail and tilts his head, “So I’m guessing I shouldn’t keep you from your beauty sleep any longer huh princess?”

Sally chuckles and shakes her head turning back to him, “Well that all depends if you’re going to keep me up all night.” She opens the door and gestures inside.

Sonic gives off a snarky chuckle as he walks up the steps stopping in front of her, “Oh ho ho! And what exactly do you mean by that princess?”

Sally rolls her eyes and pushes him inside of the cottage, “I mean you’re sleeping on the couch!”

Sonic pouts and leans back in her hands, “Aw but I could really use a nice big warm bed after months without one!”

Sally shakes her head, “You should’ve gone to your parents then.” She lets out a soft chuckle before shutting the door behind her, “You big dork.”

END

[ibijau]

Futures past pt19 / on AO3

As music lessons resume, Lan Xichen has a suggestion for Nie Huaisang

Nie Huaisang cheerfully knocked on the door, ready for his first music lesson of the year, only to be met by a decidedly grumpy Lan Xichen. The other boy tried to smile at him, tried to make conversation as usual and to ask how much he’d practiced that week, but Nie Huaisang wasn’t fooled.

“So, what’s wrong?” he asked as he set up his guqin, a little proud to show off again that he had his own instrument now. “You look so dejected that I could mistake you for your brother.”

“Let’s not talk about Wangji right now,” Lan Xichen replied, his expression turning sour. 

Now he looked like his uncle, though Nie Huaisang was too polite to say as much. It was really strange to see him so upset, and a little worrying as well, but Lan Xichen did not give him the chance to ask any questions.

“I’ve been thinking a lot while you were gone,” Lan Xichen announced with a fake smile that wasn’t fooling anyone, “and I think your level is good enough to start teaching you something a little more advanced. Shufu has given me permission to give you an introduction to some techniques we use for musical cultivation, if that interests you.”

Nie Huaisang gasped at the news.

“Really? You mean, real musical cultivation?” he asked excitedly. “The real deal? Like… like battle songs? Healing songs? You think I’m good enough?”

His earlier bad mood quickly melting away, Lan Xichen smiled warmly and came to sit next to Nie Huaisang.

“I think you’re very skilled, yes,” he said, making Nie Huaisang flush at the praise, “though it’ll be a while until you can use musical techniques in a Night Hunt. But since we have this entire year before us, I thought you could try to learn Inquiry.”

“Really?”

To confirm it, Lan Xichen merely handed Nie Huaisang a musical score, one he appeared to have copied himself. Nie Huaisang took it with trembling hands, awed to be trusted in that manner.

“The song itself is not particularly complex,” Lan Xichen explained as Nie Huaisang looked over the score, “and it can be learned and used even by someone of ordinary cultivation level. The real difficulty, and what is going to take us a while, is the Qin language needed to understand the answers given by spirits.”

His eyes still on the sheet of music, Nie Huaisang just nodded. Then, realising what he’d just heard, he looked up and stared at Lan Xichen with wide, shocked eyes.

“Isn’t that a secret Lan technique?”

“I'm not sure about 'secret' but it is an exclusive technique,” Lan Xichen confirmed, his expression turning more serious. “That’s why I had to ask for shufu’s permission before I could offer to teach you. I won’t hide that he was reluctant,” he added with a strained smile. “But I told him that I fully trust you to respect our secrets.”

Hands clenched on the music sheet, Nie Huaisang hurriedly nodded again. He couldn’t think of a bigger honour done to him. He’d never have dared to ask to be taught any Lan secret techniques, but since it was offered he would do his best to be worthy of it, and to show proper respect and gratitude.

“I also told him that having a goal of your own seemed to help you in your studies last year,” Lan Xichen added, “and that this might help you do better in your exams by giving you better motivation.”

However pleased he was that Lan Xichen would trust him, and with something that important, the reminder of his failure to do well in class made Nie Huaisang grimace, and instantly reduced his enthusiasm. “Does it mean the music lessons will be dependent on the grades I get in regular classes?”

“It’s possible that shufu came to that conclusion,” Lan Xichen replied with a mischievous smile. “But I never actually said that, and your grades are of no concern to me. I just like teaching you”

“Xichen-gege, you’re so crafty!” Nie Huaisang laughed. “Who knew you were capable of that! You’re the best, you know? I like when you teach me, too. I’ll try to be as good a student as you are a teacher!”

“I’m pleased you’d think so well of me,” Lan Xichen said, his cheeks turning a little pink. “Now, let’s get to work. I think for today, we’re just going to focus on the song itself. Then next week, if you are comfortable enough playing it, I can show you how to infuse it with your spiritual energy to have the right effect, and we can start learning Qin language.”

It sounded like a great plan, and one Nie Huaisang wholeheartedly agreed to.

Just as Lan Xichen promised, the song itself was not particularly challenging, and short enough that Nie Huaisang had good hopes of quickly learning it by heart if he just put his mind to it. He’d try to be careful not to practice it around the other Nie disciples, since it was a Lan technique, but he’d still work hard on it, and… maybe that might turn Night Hunts into something interesting at last. It should certainly make Nie Mingjue happy if his brother finally became interested in those, even if he had to use another sect’s method for it. 

It opened a world of possibilities, and Nie Huaisang promised himself to practice hard to make this happen, so both his brother and Lan Xichen would be proud of him. Or at least, as hard as he was capable, especially with all that he had to do that year. 

That would come later. The lesson having reached its conclusion for the day, Lan Xichen served tea for both of them, and offered some candies to celebrate the start of a new year of learning. By then, Lan Xichen’s mood appeared to have improved a great deal, and Nie Huaisang decided it would be fine to start the first phase of his great plan. 

"So, Xichen-gege, what do you think of this year's students?" Nie Huaisang asked innocently while grabbing some candies.

Lan Xichen's expression turned sour for a brief moment, before he got himself back under control and smiled again. 

"They are an interesting lot, certainly," he said without enthusiasm. "Are you making friends this time?" 

After taking a quick sip of tea, Nie Huaisang nodded, grinning.

"Gege, you won't believe it, but even last year I made a friend!” he announced. “Apparently, Zixun thinks I'm really cool and told his cousin about me!"

It was still really funny to him, and judging by his surprised expression, Lan Xichen hadn’t expected that either.

"Then Jin Zixun has better tastes than I expected,” Lan Xichen said with some hesitation, “and I must reconsider my opinion of him." 

"Well, me too! But I am making friends this year too, and they're nicer about it than Zixun was. Have you met Wei Wuxian yet?" 

Stopping short of drinking some tea, Lan Xichen's smile wavered. He froze for a second, and put down his glass again.

"I have,” Lan Xichen said in a tone of voice that made it plain the encounter had brought him little joy. “Jiang Cheng… I mean, Jiang gongzi came to greet me on his second day here, and Wei gongzi was with him. I suppose he was polite enough with me."

Nie Huaisang laughed at seeing him struggle to find something nice to say.

"But he upset your uncle and you don't like that."

That was all the encouragement Lan Xichen needed to allow his expression to turn into anger, which Nie Huaisang found very funny.

"He was extremely rude to shufu,” Lan Xichen complained. “It’s very unfortunate that he should show so little respect to a teacher. He's also determined to pester poor Wangji, who isn't used to being treated like that!” He paused, taking a deep breath to compose himself, but didn’t manage to put on a smile again. “Huaisang, since you're his friend, do you think you might tell him to leave Wangji alone?"

All of Nie Huaisang’s amusement quickly dissipated at that demand and he frowned.

"Well that's a problem! You really dislike him that much?"

Lan Xichen fell silent for a moment. Nie Huaisang found it more worrying than if he’d answered right away. A little anger at a misbehaving student was one thing, but he’d talked enough with Lan Xichen to recognise those moments when he was trying hard to be fair to someone he didn’t particularly like. He used to make the same face when talking about Su She, back before he started warming up to him.

"He doesn't seem like a bad person,” Lan Xichen said at last, “and he hasn't done anything to me, so I cannot dislike him. I am just worried for Wangji, who isn’t very good at dealing with people." 

"That's really inconvenient,” Nie Huaisang sighed. “Xichen-gege, I was really hoping you'd help me help them to become friends! It would have been a lot of fun, the two of us scheming together…” he sighed again. “Oh, well. I'll see if I can get Jiang-xiong or Su-xiong instead. I don’t want to involve you in something you’d find upsetting."

"I think the fact you’d want such a thing is already upsetting me a little,” Lan Xichen replied. “Is it even possible for them to be friends? They are… very different."

Nie Huaisang gave that a moment of consideration before shrugging.

"I guess. But we're pretty different too, and we didn't start off so well either, and look at us now! If it worked for us, it can work for them! I’m sure they can become good friends like us!" 

A spot or pink appeared on Lan Xichen's cheeks, but his expression remained conflicted. 

"I think it's different. Their first meeting was a fight."

Nie Huaisang could only laugh.

"And I ran away from you when you tried to chat!” he pointed out, grabbing another candy which he pushed toward Lan Xichen. “Anyway, wouldn't it be good for Wangji to have friends? He's too serious. It's not healthy for a boy his age to be so serious. As his elders, we need to make sure he doesn't get lonely." 

"you're barely a year older than him," Lan Xichen remarked, fighting a smile as he took the candy. "I'm not sure you have much claim as an elder." 

One hand on his heart, Nie Huaisang faked an offended expression which made Lan Xichen chuckle.

"I am an elder!” he protested theatrically. “I am wiser in the way of the world, so it is my duty to guide these children. Wei Wuxian too!” he added, a touch more seriously. “I think he was impressed by Wangji, you know. Jiang-xiong says that it's unheard of for him to find someone he can't beat.” He paused, and considered that. “Jiang-xiong also says he kind of hopes that Wei-xiong gets his ass kicked very hard, so it teaches him humility. And Meng-xiong didn't say anything, but he did nod."

Lan Xichen grinned.

"I do get the sensation that people tend to be as irritated by him as they are endeared. And I suppose… Wangji too was impressed by Wei gongzi's skill. Mostly he said it was quite upsetting that such talent should belong to a person with such poor manners."

Nie Huaisang smiled at that most encouraging news.

"There! If Wangji is complimenting him, then they need to be friends!" he exclaimed, making Lan Xichen laugh hard enough that he felt the need to hide it behind his sleeve.

"That's hardly a compliment."

"Coming from Wangji, it is."

That got another laugh out of Lan Xichen, which he quickly got under control and attempted to replace by a more severe expression. It might have worked, if his eyes had not been shining with barely repressed mirth. 

"Wangji is not nearly as bad as you seem to think,” Lan Xichen said. “He's just very shy, and being distant is the way he deals with it. Not everyone can be as bold and determined to collect friends as you are, Huaisang." 

"I'm not sure how to take that." 

"Coming from any other Lan, it might be an insult,” Lan Xichen admitted. “Coming from me, and to you, it's probably a compliment." 

Nie Huaisang grinned, delighted to be teased like that. How had he ever thought that Lan Xichen was boring? Maybe his future self was right about him not being too bright. But then again, wasn't it easy to make that sort of judgement in hindsight? Lan Xichen was fun now, but it had taken time for his smiles to gain real warmth when they were together. It had been time well invested though, and realising that made him hopeful that this business between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian might turn out fine. Maybe they too would get to have that sort of comfortable relationship someday.

More comfortable, even, since they were to fall in love someday. It was going to be so funny to see how Lan Wangji acted when he was in love.

After this, the two boys fell silent for a moment as they finished their tea. It was getting a little late, and Nie Huaisang knew that he would soon have to leave. It made him almost wish that Lan Qiren had already given them homework, so he’d have an excuse to stay a little longer by whining that he always worked better when he was with Lan Xichen. Or else, he might have offered to help copy some scroll or other for Lan Xichen’s great secret project. Anything at all so he wouldn’t have to go. After almost a whole winter apart, he just wanted to be in his friend’s company a little more, just a tiny bit more, even if he knew they were sure to have time together again the week after.

Then, just as Nie Huaisang was trying to accept that he couldn’t find a good excuse to stay, Lan Xichen spoke again.

"If we do help Wangji and Wei-gongzi become friends,” he said, “and that's still an 'if' on my part, the main issue will be to make them understand they both want to be friends. Wangji seems to think Wei-gongzi only exists to torment him, and despairs to see again his more positive qualities."

Excited both for the excuse to chat a little more and by the fact that Lan Xichen was falling to his side, Nie Huaisang nodded.

"Wei-xiong is convinced Wangji is giving him the cold shoulder in spite of his efforts to become friends,” he replied. “He’s not used to people not fawning over him, I fear. Xichen-gege, we're gonna have to work hard!" 

"It would take effort,” Lan Xichen agreed. “I can see you're very excited about this little project, but don't let it get in the way of your studies."

Nie Huaisang dismissed that worry with a hand gesture.

"Don't worry! I'll practice the guqin every day no matter what!"

That answer made Lan Xichen laugh.

"I meant your actual studies, Huaisang,” he corrected, trying to sound scolding but too obviously amused to be scary at all. “The lectures? With my uncle? You do remember that's why you're here in the first place?" 

Blushing a little at his blunder, Nie Huaisang shrugged.

"Oh, that. I'll deal with that,” he said with more confidence than he felt. “At worst, I'll just come again a third year. Wouldn't that be fun? We'd get even more time together!" 

"I'm not sure shufu would be thrilled,” Lan Xichen pointed out. “But I would certainly be happy to have you around as long as you want. And… of course, you'd get more time with Su She as well. Apparently you've even told your brother about him?"

If he hadn’t been in such good humour upon hearing that Lan Xichen enjoyed his company that much, Nie Huaisang might have noticed that the other boy’s expression became a little more pained when he mentioned Su She. But he was in too good a mood to be observant.

"Of course. It fell through last year because I didn't plan it enough in advance and my grades were bad,” he explained, “but this year, I absolutely want to invite Su-xiong home with me when I go back, even if I don't pass! I think we'll have a lot of fun, and da-ge can't ground me if I have a guest to entertain!"

Lan Xichen's smile turned strained again, nearly as much as when Nie Huaisang first arrived to see him. 

"How cunning of you. I'm sure you'll have great fun. I could try to steal your brother for a Night Hunt, so you and Su She can have some peace." 

It was a very generous offer, and Nie Huaisang gave it all the consideration it deserved.

"No, I think if you make it all the way to Qinghe, I'll want to keep you around too,” he announced. “Xichen-gege, even though you've come a few times, we weren’t friends back then so I've never really shown you my birds, right? And we could go painting all three of us… wait, Su-xiong isn't that fond of painting!” he remembered, hitting his forehead. “So it won’t do. Then… let's dump him with da-ge for a bit, so they can get all excited together about fighting and cultivation, and I'll steal you away! Oh there's this gorgeous little spot from where you can see the mountains at a wonderful angle… I've always wanted to show it to someone, and I think you're really someone who would know how to appreciate it. Will you go there with me next time you visit us, Xichen-gege?"

Lan Xichen tried to smile, his face a little pinker than usual.

"Wouldn't you rather take Su She, if you like it so much?"

Nie Huaisang considered that, too, before shaking his head.

"There are other places I can show him. That one, I really want to show you."

Looking definitely quite pink now, Lan Xichen smiled.

"Then I will gladly accompany you. If you like it so much, it must be very beautiful indeed, and I can’t wait to see it." 

"Xichen-gege is too kind,” Nie Huaisang replied, delighted by that new plan. “Really too kind. And in his great kindness, will he help me give Wangji a friend?" 

"You’re just as stubborn as your brother,” Lan Xichen accused, his good mood fully returned. “We'll see. I need to see a little more of this Wei Wuxian before I decide. But if I find him to be a good person, and if I am given reasons to think he’ll be good for Wangji, then yes, I will help." 

It wasn't unfair to worry about that, especially when Lan Xichen didn't have a messenger from the future to tell him that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were pretty much soulmates. Indeed, without that information, Nie Huaisang would never have guessed that Lan Wangji's cold anger might have hidden any other sort of tender feelings. That was why Nie Huaisang really needed Lan Xichen's help, he was the only person in the world who could understand his brother. 

Since he needed Lan Xichen's assistance so badly, Nie Huaisang wondered if he should maybe not ask Wei Wuxian to help him cheat in the next test. But he had already done his part of the deal in that regards, so it would be very upsetting to have copied all those boring texts for nothing. Besides, it would probably be fine. 

There was no way they'd be caught, right? 

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Summer Nights (3)

A/N: INDEX

Warnings: alcohol, language, sexual alludes, and... that’s it??

Word Count: 3.7k

Tags: @war-sword @paradigmax @winnsmills @idkatee @bforbroadway @okaydraco

So her name was Y/N.

Draco couldn't help himself but wonder about her for the past few days, after their encounter in the restaurant. As he thought more and more of her, he decided she was more of a changeable person, judging on what he had learned about her; timid and coy one day in the lobby when he first arrived, and plainly confident on another when she approached him to return his fucking wand.

And did she believe in that fictive tale about him playing a magician? Did she sense his sudden abashment when she started to question him on the subject?

He blamed himself for the whole situation, which could have never happened if he only were more careful. He assumed he had lost the wand when his mother furiously dragged him back to his hotel room from the bar he had stopped by for a while. Perhaps, it was when he had handed the receptionist, Y/N, the letter, and it just dropped out of his pocket as he was taking an envelope out.

Fortunately for him, it found its way back. So he didn't have to trouble his head with that now, right?

One issue, however, stuck to his thoughts and vividly came back every time he glanced at his hand, only to see blurry words written with a hard-to-efface ink. Of course, by none other than Y/N.

A few days back, she had scribbled her name and a number on his palm, and since then, he tried to figure out what it was for. He knew he couldn't walk out to the city and stop people in the middle of the pavement to ask for an explanation for the note because it would be as irrational and bizarre as it sounds. The second thought was to ask his mother for an additional conjecture about that by sending an owl. But then he quickly remembered, he didn't have access to any of owls here and -- so and so -- he didn't know the address Narcissa was staying at.

So both options were excluded.

Soon enough, however, the situation cropped up. Someday around six in the morning, still sound asleep and immersed in the dreams, the strange, alarming sound rang up in his bedroom, echoing off the walls and waking half of the death of him as he heard it. He flopped off his bed with the sheets falling along with him, and he began looking for the source of the noise. Then he noticed: a white handset and a set of ten digits next to it; he picked it up -- it was only a hotel checking up if he needed anything.

From then on, everything lined up and made a perfectly logical sense in his head -- it was a muggle device to communicate with each other. If you were desperate enough not to meet up with somebody in the real-life, you were likely to click nine digits and either meet with the receiver's voice or voicemail on the other side. So here was a purpose of the number.

Draco also discovered these things were so-called phones. And they were sold in various forms and types like the models of brooms in the Wizarding World -- from less to most exclusive ones. Little did his consciousness helped him, but after an hour, he was already out in the city and walking next to the shops' exhibitions and searching for an electronics store to buy himself one of those.

Why did he want to buy the phone? He could lie and say that it was only in case of emergency. But admitting truthfully to himself, he felt a nagging curiosity about those devices and wanted to understand this part of the muggle world. And something, more of a hunch than reasoning, told him that he soon might be needing one of those.

Later that day, after wandering for almost an hour and stepping into some cafeteria for lunch, he was finally holding a fucking iPhone in his hand. It had a lot of fancy shining buttons and a small, black partly-bitten apple on the back, and some kind of virtual assistant (at least that's what he had heard from a salesman) Siri with a very posh British accent. Having been advised to purchase it, Draco did so even without a second thought.

He paid for it with some muggle money his mother provided him before her departure, and walked out of the store, having it packed in a nice paper bag with a receipt and a SIM card. He decided on opening it when he reaches his room, and meanwhile, look around the area for some entertainment or something in those terms, to preoccupy himself.

Actually, Draco hadn't been too much in foreign countries, and hauling him out to Muggle London was a miracle, much more to Muggle Paris. He could find a similarity, but it was much different here -- cars honking at each other at the traffic jam; countless shops with clothes; restaurants with delicious food; people babbling at one another in French but also in Italian and German, and English. It was chaotic; it was loud, and he had to watch his feet in order to not trip over by someone else.

Draco felt lost in that mess. Random people encouraging him to visit the shops he would never intend to drop by, strangers pushing him in a rush and mumbling indistinct 'Sorry' for stepping on his shoes, some even too bothered to even look at him. Partly, he wished he had never listened to Narcissa and instead spending time with Thoe, Blaise, or whosoever and talking about irrelevant stuff like the score of the last Quiddich match (Banchory Bangers against Falmouth Falcons) or about the latest affairs with the Ministry of Magic.

And what was he even doing here?

In mere seconds, he decided on changing a route back again to the hotel instead of meandering aimlessly and optimistically, waiting for some godsend to find.

What he wasn't, however, considering was actually finding some godsend in front of the revolving doors of the hotel building.

Yet again, as if some supernatural powers brought them to the same place every time, he was standing on the opposite side of the door where Y/N. It was the late afternoon, so instead of wearing the usual white shirt in the composition of black jeans, she had a green top and striped, yellow shorts with a small watch on her wrist.

She was turned, slightly to the side, so it was her profile he saw as she waved probably at one of her friends, smiling broadly. Draco never really paid much attention to the girl, especially to her looks, but now as his eyes roamed over her standing figure in those a little too revealing clothes, he felt a gulp forming in his throat. Her hair was falling on her shoulders, the beam plastered to her face, and she seemed to be a radiating sphere of positivity.

For the last time, she blew her friend a kiss, and then she was looking at him, infinitely shocked at the sight of him behind the window, staring at her. Draco blinked, snatching out of thoughts.

Y/N made her way out, gripping her big handbag and throwing it hastily on the shoulder and a glowing grin waving over her face again. "Nice to see you again," she said. "I thought you would call."

He furrowed his brows, detecting the faint trace of hope in her voice and feeling his heart take up on the speed. "Well... I was just about to. In the room. I bought a phone..." He lifted the sack in his hand. "...and was about to dial your number."

"Really?" she asked, slightly startled and happy at the same time. She brushed some of her hair behind the ear. "Didn't you have the phone?"

"I left it at home." It was the quickest lie he could conceive. He playfully rolled his eyes, indicating the slight amusement at his alleged absentmindedness. "Just heading back from the shop."

She laughed at that. "Right." Suddenly, her cheeks were covered in a light scarlet, and she dropped her gaze at her feet for three seconds, as if she was about to share something very, very secretive with him. Then she was eyeing him again. "Listen... I've just ended a shift. Maybe you would like to go somewhere? I promised I'll show you around the most interesting spots. Are you up to that?"

Draco contemplated, taking in a small breath. Some part of him really lingered to give it a shot and go out with her, seeing where it carries them, as spontaneous as it was. It wasn't a date, and she was practically a stranger, but... what kind of a stranger! A quiet voice in his head told him this was what kept him away from the idea; disclosing his doubts -- her sparkling with joy eyes and the effect she had on him. A mere fact of him pondering the question was pure evidence it mattered to him, and he definitely tried to kick in with a good impression.  

That left him with no more answer than: "Yeah, sure."

For some reason, Y/N let out a sigh of relief and relaxed a little, looking as if she was about to hear bad news but heard the contrary instead. "Great!" she exclaimed cheerfully. A little too cheerfully, she realized, as soon as she spoke up because the embarrassment welled up on her face. Yet another blush brushed her cheeks, and she chuckled at herself. "Sorry. Bad habits from the reception."

Now it was his turn to chuckle. He liked it, actually, but obviously wasn't going to say that out loud. "Don't mind," he assured her. "Shall we--"

"Before we do," Y/N cut him in, already guessing the upcoming rest of the sentence. "I suggest you leave that stuff..." She pointed her finger at the bag he was carrying. "...in the room. We might be wandering some hours in the heat. So it might not be the best idea."

Draco nodded, silently agreeing with her pertinent advice. "I'll meet you downstairs in... five minutes, then."

She shifted a little, still grinning like a maniac and watching him with sparkling eyes. "Okay," she said, as Draco was making to walk past her, feeling the strangest hint of excitement creeping in his chest. As he was nearing the doorway, he heard her shouting behind his back, "I'll be waiting here!" And the tiniest of his rare smiles formed on his lips.

XOXOXOXO

"So tell me something about yourself, Draco." Y/N looked at him, a light of interest entering her eyes.

As decided, they had met up a few minutes later in front of the entrance to the hotel and then took on the route. Draco had asked her about any potential propositions of where there should go, to which Y/N only smiled mysteriously and said it was a surprise.

So now they were walking hand-in-hand, taking almost the same pace as they strolled in the rhythm of the roads. The buzz still could be heard, and people prattling loudly, but this time -- as Draco noted -- instead of crowding in the center of the noise, Y/N led him through some stealthy alleys only a real dweller could know about. There were still laughs and talks coming, but much quieter.

"What do you want to know?" he asked, not quite comprehending how he should answer her question. He had been in some relationships, some successful and some not, but no one had really paid much interest in him. Not really him.

"Uh, you know. Where do you hail from, what are your hobbies, why did you come to France? Whatever you want, actually." Y/N chortled, offering him a small smile of encouragement. The sun rays were smoothly emphasizing her beauty; skin glistening under the daily light. Draco couldn't help himself but think of how her hands would feel on his shoulders and--

'Focus Draco,' he scolded himself for drifting far, far away with his imagination.

"Well," he started. "I'm from England, what you can guess by my accent. I play piano, learned Italian and Spanish, and...you know, basic stuff." He omitted the part he was a captain of his Quidditch team at school for almost five years which was his biggest pride. "My mother forced me to come here."

"Oh," Y/N seemed to be a little surprised by his confession because she made a fish-like face. "Didn't you want to come?"

"Not quite," Draco admitted truthfully. Before she was able to ask him for a reason for that, he outstripped her. "Had a tough time lately. My friend...died."

Y/N stared at him, mouth slightly agape, and in an instant, her expression turned from cheerful to a regretful one. "I'm sorry," she said, massive uncomfortableness visible on her face.

He shrugged, making his faultless poker face to the game as if it didn't affect him at all -- blank and uncaring. But it hit him. Always did. He didn't like to talk about his post-war experience; even recalling it in his mind was torture.

'If she only knew,' Draco thought. 'She wouldn't be so eager to get acquainted.'

Before he could pay off with as much interest as she did to him, Y/N was gesturing excitedly to the name on the corner of the building, located right next to the extensive, artificial beach with impeccably clean water. There were quite a few people enjoying themselves and sitting on the warm sand, but not throng as Draco could expect from a place like that. "Here we are!"

Not only the sand, but a minibar was there as well: a small deckhouse in the midway of the shore and pavement; a few wooden stools; and the bartender who was shaking a cocktail mixer in his hands.

Shortly after, however, the man behind the counter noticed them approaching. He shot Draco a brief look, and then his gaze landed straight at Y/N, who also perceived him glancing at her. He seemed to be happy at the sight of her, and his eyes swept momentarily over her figure, perhaps identifying if it really was a person he thought it was, and then he gestured for her to come closer. Y/N seized Draco's forearm, tugging him to come along with her, and Draco, left without any other choices, followed.

Y/N began speaking something French with him, and he heatedly answered her back in a sort of enthusiastic voice. Apparently, they must have known each other because, after seconds, they started joking around, laughing, and patting each others' shoulders like old friends. It took quite a moment, but the bartender eventually focused his attention on Draco, who was standing next to Y/N and was trying to make any sense out of the conservation. The man asked something, curiously arching his brow yet again at Y/N, who flushed suddenly. Clearly flustered with his question, she playfully smacked him at the top of his head and turned to face Draco.

"Sorry for that," she said, putting both of her elbows on the countertop and making a slight pout of guiltiness. "It's just an old friend of mine. I used to come here a lot in the past, so we know each other... pretty well, I guess."

That arose Draco's curiosity, and he didn't miss a chance to ask her. "Don't you come here anymore?"

"No." The readiness of this reply surprised him a little bit. She bit her lip and let her eyes drift at her shoes, which -- Draco noticed -- was her typical reaction when she was nervous. "I... I used this place to meet up with my boyfriend. My father didn't approve of our relationship -- he assumed there was something iffy about him and that he had bad intentions." Chuckling dryly, she tried to cover up her emotions, though the sadness was hitched to her voice. "He was right. He used me and then dumped me, saying it meant nothing."

Although he felt an urge to hug her, he held it back and stared at her, not really knowing what to say. Should he console her by telling her the man was a pig and she clearly deserved better? Or should he keep silent, only proving himself to be a good listener? It was very confusing for him to be around girls who cry and complain and expect reassurance in their words. He witnessed Pansy weeping a lot of times, but she was the one to instruct him what to do by throwing herself at him and lingering in the embrace. But Y/N was new to him, and it was no easy way to find out what she wanted him to say.

"Sucks," he uttered under his breath before the awareness kicked in.  

What the fuck, you dolt?! Is it how you want to comfort her?

Fortunately, Y/N didn't receive his words as critically as he because her eyes lighted up, and she giggled softly. "Yeah... But I learned from that. I try to be warier now."

The bartender poked her suddenly on the shoulder, making some mumbling and incomprehensible sound. Y/N nodded and slightly tilted her head to have a better view of Draco. "Jean asks if you want a drink. He recommends Brave Bull. Brags that he can do the best one in the country."

"Mhm... Let it be it," he agreed, giving up on his usual liquor and dipping into more muggle-like specials. He attempted to force a smile on the lips, trying to give it more of a tone of a request than a demand.

She reciprocated the gesture, and then she turned to her friend, leaning casually against the bar and expertly translating the conversation. He only nodded, smiling, and grabbed the nearest bottle of some booze to pour the contents into the glass along with some other ingredients.

"Here you go," the bartender, Jean, tried out his amateur English, but remnants of French accent could be heard. He laid two glasses of alcohol -- one fiercely brown; the other one, blue with a cocktail umbrella inside -- on the countertop and grinned. Before Draco could take out some cash to pay, Jean's voice echoed again, still with a little stammering accent. "Free!"

Y/N and Draco made their way to a nearby bench, both calmly sipping their drinks and looking at the horizon as the sun set down, disappearing out of your sight. It was strange for Draco how comfortable he felt in her presence; the comfort he hadn't experienced for years in anyone's company. Although he was aware you had met a few days ago, something in your relationship gave him enough space to be himself. And he liked it.

Draco chanced to glance at Y/N, and she was already looking.

"I like coming here," she started hastily, as to conceal she was staring. "It's calming."

As an excuse to tear their eye contact, Draco scanned the beach again, and he could definitely get her point. The place was nothing but charming. "Agree."

"You know... It was my inspirational area when I drew. I first found it when I got into a huge fight with my father. Since then, I have used it as an escape from the outer world. It was a mistake that I shared it with my ex, but... you seem to be a proper person."

Draco didn't miss the compliment, and a barely visible blush danced on his cheeks. He felt his pulse speeds up, heart pounding at the sudden realization of their proximity. "You drew? Is it past tense?"

"Yes." Y/N nodded swiftly, grunting. "I love to capture the moments I find beauty in: people, places, specific objects. I even aspired to go to art studies. But..." She exhaled deeply, preparing herself to continue. "...they are too costly. My father says so... I don't blame him; I know he tries. But I stopped myself from having hopes."

Draco listened, and the pity churned his stomach. Taking a nip of his drink, an idea popped up in his head. "Do you have those drafts?"

"Right now?" Y/N asked, shocked, to which Draco responded only with a short nod.  "Yes, I usually carry them --er-- in my bag. I had to throw them away... but I just couldn't."

"Can I see?"

Surprisingly, for the first time, as Draco saw, reluctance appeared on her face. She deflated, apparently battling with doubts. "Ummm... Yes." And then she slipped her hand into her motley bag, rummaging intensely. After mere seconds, she finally found what she was looking for -- the set of papers bound neatly around by a fine twine and clip, to the additional perseverance.

Y/N passed him, what seemed to be many hours of her solid work, and he examined them closely. What Draco could say is that he wasn't an expert in the field, but he unconditionally believed that those sketches required a lot of talent to draw as precise as they were. He was in awe, really -- the accurate contours given the best preciseness; the attention paid even to the smallest details; gradings made with soft touches of a pencil. The drawings presented a lot: random people walking in a rush, natural landscapes, some sculptures lined up in front of a building, even the least relevant objects like shoes or an apple. That, of course, didn't discourage Draco from watching further -- he flipped the pages, soundlessly, and a little too fascinated to utter a thing.

"And what do you think?" asked Y/N, nervously tapping her fingers on her thigh and (unnecessarily) preparing herself for a flow of criticism. Her gaze darted between Draco's face and the sketches.

"I... think you have a gift," he complimented her, weighing the great truth in his words.

"Really?" Y/N asked him in disbelief, blushing profusely. "Thanks! But --er-- you can take them if you want. It'd be easier for me to know I give them in the good hands than throwing them away."

The 'good hands' comment flattered Draco, and he felt almost honored to accept the offer. "Yes. Thank you." He buried the works deeply in his pocket.

He would definitely make good use of those. He had a plan.

XOXOXO

A/N: Okay, hi everyone! It was supposed to be longer, but I decided to divide it into more chapters with less word count instead. Nothing is happening yet, but you can already feel some tension, right? :D The next chapter is going to be super, super short. So I might be posting it within two days or so??? Idk yet, and it’s not a promise because I have a nice surprise (spoiler! a new one-shot) coming and a few requests to answer, so it might also take a moment. But please, stick with me :D If anyone wants to appear on the tag list, write in comments, DM, or wheresoever!

[carmichealroyals]

CHARACTER INSPIRATION // C H A L L E N G E

Rules: Write up a blurb or make a visual collage of the people or characters (from books, TV shows, movies, etc.) that inspired your OC, either visually, personality wise, or just a general vibe.

I was tagged by this by so many lovely pals -- @thelockwoodroyals, @wa-royal-tea AND @ourwillowcreekroyals !!! I only feel bad that it took me so long but I wanted it to be as perfect as it could be while taking time to fiddle with Photoshop more (thank you @royaldevilliers for answering my silly questions). Below the cut are the descriptions for the personality types and tropes for each of the main three kids of this next generation! 

Not sure who’s done this yet, so if you see this and you want to do it, this is me telling you to do it!

CHARLOTTE:

The Protagonist:  Protagonists are natural-born leaders, full of passion and charisma. Forming around two percent of the population, they are oftentimes our politicians, our coaches and our teachers, reaching out and inspiring others to achieve and to do good in the world. With a natural confidence that begets influence, Protagonists take a great deal of pride and joy in guiding others to work together to improve themselves and their community.

Spirited Young Lady:  She is the girl who bends the rules just a little. Oh, she can dance a country dance or pour tea with the best of them, but she may also be a good walker or horseback rider. She may be the most intelligent girl in the story, and she is almost certainly the wittiest and the most outspoken, sometimes earning her the title of spitfire. She may be talented in more practical ways, as well: if given the opportunity, she may turn out to be a wise investor, and she may harbor talent for music, writing, or art that goes beyond drawing room entertainment and might become a means of financial independence if necessary. In rare cases, she may even solve a murder. Though she occasionally runs into some trouble, especially if she fails to obey the powers that be, she usually comes through in the end.

Deadpan Snarker: A character prone to gnomic, sarcastic, sometimes bitter, occasionally whimsical asides.The Deadpan Snarker exists to deflate pomposity, point out the unlikelihood of certain plans, and deliver funny lines. Typically the most cynical supporting character. In most cases, it is implied that the snarker would make a good leader, strategist, or consultant given their ability to instantly see the flaws in a constructed plan. More often than not, their innate snarkiness is the only thing preventing the other characters from comprehending this for themselves.

Politically Active Princess:  The Politically Active Princess is a princess that takes active interest in and plays an active role in politics. Naive courtiers and commoners alike might view her only as a figurehead, but in truth, she discreetly uses her position and guile in order to achieve her ends. Skilled in diplomacy, she will usually attempt to solve conflicts via conversation or bargaining, rather than combat. Her defining trait is her involvement in politics or diplomatic matters, without letting herself serve only as a bargaining chip.

Inspired by: Mia Thermopolis (The Princess Diaries); Lorelai Gilmore (Gilmore Girls); Vex’ahlia (Critical Role); Jenny Lee (Call the Midwife)

PETER: 

The Architect:  It can be lonely at the top. As one of the rarest personality types – and one of the most capable – Architects (INTJs) know this all too well. Rational and quick-witted, Architects may struggle to find people who can keep up with their nonstop analysis of everything around them.

The Dog Bites Back:  Unlike the Bastard Understudy and The Starscream, this character attacks as a crime of opportunity. There is no danger that he will take over the villain's place in the grand scheme of things. There is, however, a possibility that he will menace the others as a True Final Boss. The backstabber often ends up dead, but this is usually not Redemption Equals Death because their motive is not noble. Innocent victims who turn on the villain typically do it only for revenge, while evil victims prove that they were fine with all of the Big Bad's crimes except the one committed against them.

Middle Child Syndrome: Everyone loves the oldest child because the parents can rely on them, they watch out for their siblings, and they're so confidently attractive. The Youngest Child Wins because they're the "baby". But what does that leave the one in the middle? That's essentially the definition of Middle Child Syndrome, in which a child automatically may become The Unfavorite or the rebellious Black Sheep, specifically because they are the easiest child to overlook. They're not old enough to be given the responsibilities and privileges of the oldest, and the youngest child took their spot as the spoiled and doted-on "baby" of the family. This tends to be more of an issue when there are three children rather than four or more. Oftentimes in media, the middle child ends up becoming more of the Deadpan Snarker or the quirky one for this reason.

The Un-Favorite: Where there's an Alpha wolf, there's got to be a Beta. When there is a first banana, there is a second banana. This is the person in the family who can't get a break. For example, this is the child who's the big let-down to their parents, the daughter that was supposed to be a son (or vice-versa), the child the parents had by accident when they'd already decided they didn't need another mouth to feed, the adoptive, foster, or stepchild that came before the parents had a biological child, the illegitimate child conceived by infidelity on the part of one of the parents (if not even worse). But all in all, this is basically the kid who is always getting the short-end of the stick. In some extreme cases, this may cause Rich Sibling, Poor Sibling, especially if one sibling is forced into service to the other. A regular line that may be entailed with this is a variant of, "Honestly, [name], why can't you be more like [favorite's name]?"

Inspired by: Edith Crawley (Downton Abbey); Fiyero (Wicked: The Musical); Logan Huntzberger (Gilmore Girls); Rafael Solano (Jane the Virgin)

PEGGY: 

The Mediator:  Idealistic and empathetic, Mediators long for deep, soulful relationships, and they feel called to help others. But because this personality type makes up such a small portion of the population, Mediators may sometimes feel lonely or invisible, adrift in a world that doesn’t seem to appreciate the traits that make them unique.

The Baby of the Bunch: Being the youngest of your group typically comes with some perks and challenges. On one side you're probably the cutest, have a pass to act immature, people like taking care of you, and you can embrace your fun side, knowing that the elders are there to handle the serious stuff. And if there's anything you're naïve about, you have plenty of others to give you the realest unfiltered advice without the generational gap and detachment that your parents or the Old Master have. On the other end, sometimes people don't take you seriously. There you're kinda stuck because no matter how old you get, you'll always be "the baby" in their eyes.

Indifferent Beauty: A character who is attractive, aware of their effect on other people, but doesn't care or at least doesn't value their physical attractiveness over their other traits. Often, this character is a consummate professional who is well aware of the fact that they could use their "assets" to get what they want by other means, but feels that it would be unprofessional or beneath their dignity, and is instead focused on proving that they can compete purely on skill, often to the exclusion of romantic opportunities. While such characters are not averse to dressing in sexy outfits, they don't plan on relying on or even exploiting their sex appeal - but the camera will often do that for them. Other characters' indifference is not due to regarding relying on appearance to be beneath their dignity, but rather that they consider it to be unimportant.

Spoiled Sweet:  The Spoiled Sweet character is a naive, spoiled, rich or comfortably upper-class or upper-middle-class girl, who has everything they could ever want, but instead of being mean, she is as nice as can be to everyone. While still spoiled, slightly naive, perhaps shallow, maybe even a bit selfish at times, when it comes right down to it, she is a loyal friend and doesn't use her money or popularity as an excuse to treat everyone like garbage — though the trope Rich in Dollars, Poor in Sense is in play, especially since a particularly common sticking point is that characters of this type often believe their friends and other loved ones deserve to live just as well as they do.

Inspired by: Rory Gilmore (Gilmore Girls); Beth March (Little Women); Pike Trickfoot (Critical Role); Peggy Schuyler (Hamilton: An American Musical)

[nightshadedawn]

Persona 5 Royal Playthrough pt3

I ended up going through two Palaces before I could update y’all. Oh well.

...Yeah, no, quit calling me Miss Special Snowflake's boyfriend. It's not happening.

Ryuji, Morgana, and Yusuke having a conversation in the laundromat: "It's like he's our mom," says Ryuji... the mom friend.

Every time Morgana is like "I have to turn into a human so no one else can have Lady Ann!" then expects no one else to hear him makes me laugh. Like, bitch, no.

I have the restaurant in my Thieves Den 'cause I like it. Yusuke, Ryuji, and Morgana are there. They're so precious.

I got a three in a row Tycoon on cutthroat!!!

Ryuji and Ann just keep going "Shoulda figured" and other versions of the statement every time I win.

Ann just rejected Morgana's feelings HARD. I am happy.

Ryuji is too good, honestly. Why would anyone not like him? He's... He's always trying to build the team up, make them proud of themselves and what they've done. I will admit that he has his moments of being not a great human, but they're teenagers who were given absurd powers, so honestly, can you blame them?

I didn't know darts was an actual minigame! There's so many minigames. I'm so happy.

I don't like Akechi. I don't know why some people do. Like, his death scene was a bit... too late for a redemption for me, right after he tried to kill Joker, several times. His pain is understandable, but still... I can't.

Their "two sides of the same coin" also doesn't seem particularly fair. It's totally uneven in everything but color schemes.

Guys, GUYS, please, PLEASE decide whether you're going to react to my teasing or not.

"We don't have to deal with them directly," Ryuji says joyfully about the mafia. Oh you sweet, sweet, innocent child, if only you knew what I do.

I literally can't play this game around anyone else because I tend to yell "BABY!" to Ryuji, Ann, and Yusuke and "BITCH" or "FUCKER" to... a rather long list of villains in this game... and Makoto.

I can literally feel Yusuke's anxiety about his painting when you take him to Leblanc to see Sayuri.

How can you say Yusuke isn't gay when he says everything I do is beautiful?

I love Ryuji's 9th social link. It's LITERALLY written like a confession scene. This also means I kinda hate it because... I can't date him.

Also... PRETTY BOY RYUJI PRETTY BOY RYUJI PRETTY BOY RYUJI

I actually kinda thought that the new scene for Ryuji being a crossdresser is kinda funny??? Is this bad??? I wanna see him in a dress, tho. I gotta agree, he'd be a natural. Not the like, painfully obviously not taking it seriously from the dancing game, though.

Though I do think it's valid that he freaks out when two strange adults come up to him and try to take him somewhere, especially in a place known for being shady, and at night.

...When Ryuji complains about it, I do feel bad about ditching him. Then again, I blame the cat.

Ryuji may be my ideal type on paper, but I'm also highly attracted to Yusuke and this is so totally unfair.

*softly chanting* butlers butlers butlers butlers

Don't mind me just... *makes meticulous plot to avoid having Makoto join the team that i may or may not write a fanfic about*

Makoto is one dumbass bitch. Like, honestly, there's nothing she does that's in any way remotely smart.

...I thought I'd just skip Makoto's scenes until she became relevant, but here I am, still skipping her scenes. Does that mean she’s still irreleveant?

"Witch" I suggest, and Makoto complains! "Would you prefer "Bitch"? I can use that too.

I put Yusuke on the team in the middle of the palace through settings, replacing Morgana, who had been standing right behind me. Which made Yusuke stand right behind me. It looked like he was holding onto my waist and standing uncomfortably close. Bro, babe, I love you, but not in front of my boyfriend and girlfriend!

Just accept the compliment, guys, I'm not going to compliment Queen.

...Opening chests with Ann or Ryuji is just so sweet because they're so affectionate and touchy feely. Especially Ryuji.

Math. Fucking. Sucks. I should not have to use math in a game. I hate this. Obviously it's the Palace Makoto comes in that this happened.

Well, I finished the Palace in a day. I love the feeling. But it was getting close there. Joker and Yusuke were down to no spells...

...Yoshizawa hasn't showed up yet. When is she getting shoehorned in?

WHY IS THE VELVET ROOM RED!?

My very first playthrough I didn't execute a single execution except for the first one we have to do. It  really screwed me over my second playthrough...

...I broke the electric chair. That's certainly something that happened.

147 games of Tycoon later and I've only been a beggar 31 times in total, versus the pure thirty wins in just Cutthroat.

They're in their summer uniforms and it makes make miss warmer weather already. It's fucking snowing outside. Grrrr.

Beat Kaneshiro! ...Wasn't a fan of his new boss battle. I'm even playing on safe mode! But whatever.

Makoto is a DISASTER at Tycoon. She exclusively got beggar all three times I played with her!

...RYUJI YOU CAN'T SAY SHIT LIKE THAT AND NOT LET ME DATE YOU.

Ann, sweeties, baby, you're doing so well.

She confessed to me, then in the call afterwards it was basically insinuated I proposed... WHICH IS LIKE FUCK YEAH 'CAUSE SHE ACCEPTED IT.

It makes me think of the future conversation where they're talking about marriage.

Anyway, if you haven't noticed, l love Ann.

My next playthrough I'm not gong to date her, though. I'm a completionist and I want ALL of the possible awards. But... I refuse to cheat on Ann. So I'll date everyone else then just hang with Ryuji... despite how cringy some of the date things are.

...If Akechi wasn't, you know EVIL and tried to KILL ME, SEVERAL TIMES, I might, MIGHT, like him. But in truth, I think that's really just the Persona 5: Revival talking. We get... into some stuff during that.

I know that either Atlus or the translators know EXACTLY what goes on in the Persona fandom because otherwise "He's too pretty to be wrong" would not be an option when talking to the newspaper girl about Akechi. I have to agree with her that his looks aren't really, you know, awesome enough for that.

Also, I read it as "He's too petty to be wrong" at first and I think that's an accurate sum of his character.

YO AKECHI-FUCK I HAVE NO NEED TO SEE YOUR ASS LIKE THAT WHEN I HAVE BOTH A BF AND AND GF.

...fucker fucking giving me shit about my fake glasses...

If you COULD date the boy out of mod, Akechi would definitely be the one they were pushing you to date. Like Makoto. Or Yoshizawa.

But hey, at least I get to not be nice to him.

I remember seeing this picture where Ann, Ryuji, and Joker kept going to the movies together and seeing 3D movies, and Joker couldn't wear the 3D glasses properly because of his own. I keep imagining that picture during this event with Caroline and Justine.

You know what? Some people call Joker a loli lover because of them, but nope! He's just adopted two more siblings. That is my stance on it.

FUcking

Fucker

WHAT THE FRRRRRRRR

FUCK YOU ATULS OR TRANSLATORS OR WHATEVER

APHRODITE AND MARS ARE FROM TWO DIFFERENT MYTHOS. Aphrodite is GREEK, Mars is ROMAN. Their reversed are VENUS and ARES. USE ONE OR THE OTHER PEOPLE.

I get very pissed about this, and it's worse with Hades.

7/4 is the day I am screaming at, if you were wondering.

My dad asked me if the other students think Joker's stupid because every time I answer a question right they get all surprised.

I don't really like Makoto, as I'm sure you've noticed, but she was super nice about Ryuji's special move idea. And that put her ahead of Akechi in my book.

TESTS ARE NERVE WRACKING EVEN WHEN THEY'RE FICTIONAL

Yusuke and Ryuji are good boys, the best boys. And they're so awesome about their special move.

AND RYUJI OFFERED MONEY FOR YUSUKE'S FOOD. And implied that he did it before???? Ryuji, you best boy.

This boys' outing DOES make me happy, though. Like, insanely happy. Dunno why.

Maybe because Joker gets to be so flipping cheesy.

...fuck you, Yoshizawa.

HONESTLY WHAT THE EVER LOVING--- Grr. Too many choices while with her. Too many. OOC Joker when with her. 0/10.

I LOVE THE FESTIVAL PHOTO

And you know, it's really hard to choose between Lala-chan and Ann, but... GONNA TAKE ANN ON A DATE

Got her some flowers. Lets see if we can give them to her this time!

"Such a good FRIEND." Babe, we're DATING. For like, TWO WEEKS NOW.

AND I DIDN'T EVEN GET TO GIVE HER FLOWERS

Ann called Yusuke a pretty boy, but then she's missing out on the REAL pretty boy, Pretty Boy Ryuji.

Ryuji, why're you so worried about other girls when you've got ME?

"I like the shade." "What are you, moss!?" Oh, admit it, Ryuji, I'm growing on you.

Cargona. Snrk. Gods, I love you, Ryuji.

Dome town with Ryuji! "Isn't it all couples?" That's the point!

I COULD GIVE RYUJI THE ROSES!?

Sadly, I bought those for Ann. Ryuji, you get the noodles.

AND HE FUCKING LOVED IT.

"It feels like I really captured Ryuji's heart!" FUCK YEAH I DID

Gonna give Yusuke the bracelet when I get the chance.

Why is everyone color coded in the chat room? Kawakami, Akechi, Mishima, and the reporter are all ORANGE. What's the point? Well, Akechi's more of a golden orange, but close enough.

While Mishima is not my first choice for a date, he's definitely not my last.

...But the boy really needs some fucking sleep. He's not drawn with the bags under his eyes, but I can see them!

It's not fair that they give Akechi a kicked puppy sprite. I'm... goddamnit, they're trying to make me not hate him.

When Makoto doesn't know something, I'm brought great joy.

NO DAD MAKOTO IS NOT MY GIRLFRIEND ANN IS AND SHE IS LITERALLY R I G H T T H E R E

First day in Futaba's Palace! I've gotta say, this is my second favorite palace. Kamoshida, Futaba, Madarame, Sae, Okumura, Shido, Kaneshiro, Holy Grail. In that order. I HATE Kaneshiro's place and dealing with the Holy Grail. But whatevs, man. I love this game. (Vanilla, at least, this one is still on the fence)

I found out a cool little thing. On the uphill sand slopes in the town (don't know about anywhere else) if you're running and turn back quickly, Joker will do a little animation to steady himself. It was cool and made it seem, I dunno, more human? Anyway, while I was admiring this, Ryuji and Yusuke just stood at the top of the slope and Ann followed me while I was running. Best girlfriend ever.

Kin-Ki is looking pretty kin-ky if you know what I'm sayin'

Please don't murder me because I do terrible puns.

*we fall through the trap door* *Ryuji starts screaming* Same, baby, same.

...Makoto is seriously annoying. Like, she's got no business acting as familiar with Futaba's situation. The one who WOULD be the most familiar is Yusuke, and I'm glad he recognizes that. It's not the exact same, none of their stories are after all, but I feel like those two get each other better than even Ryuji and Joker understand each other.

Yusuke and Ryuji's special attack is THE BEST

Ryuji and Joker getting up close and personal in the shadows. All those fanfics coming true, man.

I thought Futaba was sloth, not wrath? Why are her Will Seeds called Wrath?

Beat it in one day! It's so satisfying to watch all those achievements when I leave the palace.

You know, I'm thinking of wearing the Christmas outfits for the final battle. Just to be kinda funny.

Spending a relaxing day with Yusuke after going through Futaba's Palace... kinda want to take him to the bathhouse to check out that new scene, but I also REALLY wanna feed the boy... gonna feed the boy.

Apparently I can only make 'decent curry.' Which is fine. Because "I" can't make curry at all. Joker, you've done much better than I.

THE DATE CHANGE SCREEN HAD A RAINBOW AND RYUJI WAS COMING OVER ON THE SAME DAY FUCK YEAH MY BISEXUAL BABY

...Broooooo, the way you talk about your manga is how I talk right before I start shipping.

Took him to the bathhouse, 'cause I don't gotta worry about Mama Sakamoto feeding him.

...Can I take Ann to the bathhouse?

Asked Ryuji to move in. He was all up for the idea until he remembered that I live in an attic.

I'm Charismatic now!

...I was all hoping Ann would stop by but then Akechi asked me out. Laaaaaaaame.

Ryuji's smile is so fucking cute.

...I say we just be honest, and everyone's so fucking stupid about it until Makoto explains it. This pisses me off. They're not that dumb... At least, they weren't until Makoto showed up.

Futaba's hiding in the closet. ...I've spent too many weeks making jokes about closets to not have a joke about it.

Really, Yusuke? You see those books and think she can't understand?

...Wait, that sassy tone of voice... You were TRYING to pull a reaction of her. I knew I shipped those two for a reason. OTP and BroTP. Doesn't matter, they're both awesome.

I love you Ann, but I don't think your situations were the same at all. It's not like both are valid and bad, but... different.

Joker is SO fast compared to the others, especially when he's speeding.

What the...

Holy fuck...

JOKER IS TOO EFFING COOL

THAT MOVE TO GET FROM THE ENTRANCE TO TO TREASURE DOOR? Awesome!

Damn, Joker has my heart too.

I kinda wish we could see Futaba's costumes in her Persona. That would be pretty neat.

The moment right before Wakaba appears is so aesthetically pleasing.

...Futaba being happy is almost enough for me to accept Maruki's offer, and I haven't gotten there yet.

Ryuji and Ann keep smacking each other out of their ailments. Like, you guys just love each other so much! It's awesome.

Joker has lackluster responses to Wakaba... I'm hoping that isn't one of those "Answer these wrong and you break her!" things... Not that I think I was, but still.

I liked Futaba's new animation for when she defied her mother.

I wish the anime looked more the cutscenes. I'm trying to rewatch the anime so I can pinpoint specific moments for future editing purposes, but it's kinda painful.

1- This is the SECOND TIME you've landed on Yusuke while running from trouble.

2- YUSUKE LET GO OF MY GIRL

No Makoto, I don't want to go see Futaba with you! I can go see her myself.

So, I like Takemi's new voice with her lines during this scene.

Sure, she collapses every so often and sleeps for a while. Stays like that for a few days. Sorry that I put her into a coma for a month, Boss...

SHE LOOKS SO CUTE WITHOUT GLASSES

Guys, we have a month. Stop worrying.

THE TWINS ARE SO CUTE WHILE HANGING ONTO THE BENCH PRESS

Damn, Joker's dying to the amusement of two little girls.

I'm kinda disappointed I didn't get results for all that training. But I liked the scene.

Yusuke just casually be lugging bigass paintings around.

Taking the girls to the church may have been one of the funnier moments. These cement them as Joker's little sisters. With Futaba. Damn, Joker, you got no brothers.

Yusuke promises to come by every day and we can tell him to take his clothes off. ATLUS, you have some EXPLAINING to DO.

..And Yusuke took it and ran with it. My sweet summer child, I don't think I could handle you in as little as possible on the day to day.

"The heat induced delirium made me think outside the box." Same.

Guts takes sooooooooooooo long to level up.

"Punish me more" he says, as if Takemi won't do it.

"Good god. Well, none of my medicine can cure THAT." AT LEAST WE'RE ALL ON THE SAME PAGE

BATHHOUSE WITH YUSUKE

Awe, he had fun. :)

[jesus-otaku]

Title: Peculiar Familiarity (part 6)

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Pairing: Marichat

Word count: 2241

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

A long-overdue update for a giveaway prize for @kwiibi-blog​. I feel so bad about this just sitting in my folder for so long. (I typed this part up like 2 years ago during the time I was away from Tumblr and completely neglected to post it.) I really hope the long wait has been worth it.

I mentioned this when updating the fic on AO3 so I’ll mention it here as well: I am no longer nearly as active in the ML fandom as I used to be. There is so much fandom salt and drama that it has been hard to find the same initial joy I had for creating ML content. Most of my writing lately has been for original projects rather than fanfic. But because I hate leaving things incomplete, and I think everyone reading my fics deserves to get the endings they’ve waited for, I am trying very hard to regain my lost motivation. My goal is to at least wrap up the multi-part fics I started, even if I don’t necessarily write the other fics I originally had planned. Any questions about this can be directed to my ask box!

“Something about Marinette was off tonight. Something beyond the mess of deciding whose hand he was going to kiss.”

________________________

“You've been keeping secrets from me, Princess,” Chat Noir sang as he dropped through the trapdoor into Marinette's room.

She whirled away from her desk to look up at him, and her face was white as a sheet. “S-secrets? What secrets?” Her lips were twitching up in an attempt at a smile, but it was very obviously fake. “I—I'm not keeping any secrets, don't be silly! I mean, why would I not have told you that I was—I mean—that is, if I was—I mean—nope, no secrets here!” She broke into nervous laughter. “None whatsoever.” Then, hesitantly, she asked, “Why do you say that?”

Chat was a little taken aback. That was a much more…intense reaction than he had been expecting. He climbed down the loft ladder to join her at her desk. Leaning on the desk with one hand, he replied, “You never told me you and Ladybug were in touch with each other.”

Marinette gaped at him. It must not have been what she had thought he was going to say, because some of the color slowly started to return to her face. “That's—I—you never asked.”

“No,” he agreed, “but when you said I should talk to Ladybug about the whole hand-kissing thing, that—you could have just told her yourself.” It would have spared him a lot of embarrassment, that was for sure.

She fidgeted uncomfortably. “I think it was better that she heard it from you,” she replied. “Otherwise it might have made it seem like you were avoiding her.”

He hesitated. She did have a point there. And embarrassment or not, his conversation with Ladybug had cleared up a miscommunication he hadn't even realized they'd been having. “Still,” he said, “you could have at least said something.”

“You never asked,” Marinette countered. She leaned forward, propping her hands on her knees. “So, um, what did I—I mean, Ladybug say? About the hand-kissing thing, that is?”

Chat gave her a thumbs up with a smile. “She gave it the all-clear. Hand kisses are now exclusively yours, Princess.”

She grinned back at him. “Lucky me. But that wasn't exactly what I meant.”

He frowned in confusion. “What?”

“I never said you had to ask her permission,” she pointed out. She folded her hands in her lap. “I just said you needed to tell her you were going to stop kissing her hand. Did she say anything about you stopping?”

Great. Not only was Ladybug going to kill him by asking about his relationship with Marinette, now Marinette was going to kill him by asking about his relationship with Ladybug. He was so, so doomed. “She said I didn't have to,” he answered slowly, watching her to see her reaction. “She would have been okay with me kissing both your hand and hers. But I didn't want to do that to you after saying I would make it a you-and-me thing only.”

All of the color had returned to Marinette's face now, and if it hadn't been for the fact she had been so white just a minute ago, he would have thought he saw a dusting of pink on her cheeks. He quashed it instead as the act of an overactive, hopeful imagination. She'd been so pale that the natural flush of her face probably just looked overly pinkish by comparison. “Thank you,” she mumbled. A little clearer, she added, “It means a lot, you know. That you would change your dynamic with Ladybug just for me.”

Feeling suddenly very embarrassed, Chat looked around the room at just about everything except for Marinette. His eyes locked with the little black stuffed cat that perched on the shelf above her desk. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “You don't have to thank me for anything. It's not like things are going to change between me and Ladybug, not really.” But then he remembered that odd look of resignation that had been in Ladybug's eyes last night, and he had to wonder if things wouldn't change even the tiniest bit. She'd almost seemed upset.

As if she could read his mind, Marinette asked, “Are you sure about that? We—You two seem pretty close.”

“We're still going to be friends,” he replied, hating that word—friends—just a little less than he would have expected to. His friendship with his lady had always come first, no matter how badly he wanted to be something more. That priority had somehow become clearer the more time he had spent with Marinette. He waved a hand dismissively, as if her concern were a minor one. “A little thing like kissing your hand won't change that.” Oh, but that look in Ladybug's eyes last night…

A tiny smile made its way onto her face. “Ladybug is really lucky to have a friend like you. I would've been a lot more worried about things changing than you are.”

He braced his baton against the floor and leaned forward on it. “Maybe you can put in a good word for me, then, Princess. Since you're friends with her, too.” God, what was coming out of his mouth? He was going to be the end of himself, pursuing a conversation like this. But still, he couldn't stop himself from continuing. “I'm sure if you sing my praises, she'll reconsider my romantic advances.”

The statement startled a laugh out of her. “Okay, I take it back,” she giggled. “She's lucky, but she's not that lucky.”

Well, ouch.

Even though he knew Marinette meant it only in good fun, and that she would never intentionally say something to hurt someone else—out of all the people he'd met, she was one of the most well-attuned to preventing akuma attacks—her reply stung. So much so that his heart may as well have physically ached. The amusement he'd allowed to creep onto his face was gone in an instant. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Her expression dropped into horror. Had she not realized what she was saying? “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound like that—I was just—you're great, but—um, you and Ladybug are—we're—I mean—ugh, I don't know what I mean anymore.” She buried her face in her hands, and there was a definite pink tinge to her cheeks now beneath her fingers.

Something about Marinette was off tonight. Something beyond the mess of deciding whose hand he was going to kiss. He was stunned it had taken him this long to realize it. Chat Noir tucked away his baton and went to kneel in front of her chair.

“Hey, Princess,” he coaxed softly. She peeked out at him from between her fingers. That much, at least, was encouraging. “What's wrong? Forget about me and Ladybug for a second. Did something happen?”

Her eyes scanned his; for what, he wasn't sure. Slowly, her hands slipped away from her face, and she set them back in her lap. She sighed as if resigning herself to something. Her gaze dropped to the floor between the two of them. “It's just—well, I have this…friend. And he's a great friend, don't get me wrong,” she added hastily, before he could have even thought to comment. “I'd trust him with anything, no matter what.”

“But…?” he prompted. There was obviously a “but” coming.

She gave a halfhearted sort of shrug. “I don't know. It just feels like things are…weird between us right now.” Her eyes were still glued on the floor as she began twisting her fingers around each other in her lap. “Like he's…I don't know, distant?”

He hoped she wasn't talking about him as Adrien. He'd done his damnedest to get closer to her, to make her feel more comfortable around him, to see at least some inkling of the way she acted around Chat in her interactions with Adrien. Those attempts had so far only ended in more pronounced stammering and occasional awkward laughter. It wouldn't have entirely surprised him if she was referring to him as Adrien.

He just really, really didn't want to be the one she was referring to.

Marinette seemed to take his pensive, anxious silence as a sign to continue, because she kept talking. Almost like she couldn't stop herself. “And I guess I just can't help wondering if maybe there's something that I did, or if there's something else going on in his life that I don't know about, or if he's just sick of hanging out with me.”

Chat took one of her hands in his before she could wring her fingers white. Her eyes finally snapped up to meet his again. “If he's sick of hanging out with you, then he's an idiot,” he said, with far more feeling than he had originally intended to put into his sentence. “You're amazing, Marinette. Anyone would be lucky to call you their friend.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “I know I am.”

That tiny little smile made its way back onto her face, just enough to lift the corners of her lips out of miserable worry. So gently that he almost thought he imagined it, she squeezed his hand back. “Thanks, Chat Noir.”

Kneeling there with her hand in his, he almost kissed her hand before coming to his senses and shooting her a wink instead. Even with both her and Ladybug's permission, he couldn't just go around kissing her hand willy-nilly. “Anytime. It's a knight's sworn duty to protect his princess, even from her own self-doubt.” The comment made her smile spread wider, and the weight of worry lifted from his chest.

And it was strange, how much this reminded him of another time, with another girl, begging her to believe in him and in herself when she hadn't thought she could be enough.

Then Marinette was getting to her feet, her hand was sliding away from his, and the moment of familiarity was gone. “So,” she said, “are you up for being walloped at Ultimate Mecha Strike 3 tonight?”

He wanted to say yes so very badly. Wanted to prove that he'd meant what he'd said, that anyone who didn't want to hang out with her was an idiot. But curse it all, he had a photo shoot tomorrow morning at eight and he would never hear the end of it from his father if he showed up at his photo shoot with anything less than a full night's rest.

“I wish I could stay,” he said, trying to infuse as much regret into the words as possible. Her smile still dropped. He cursed the name of photo shoots everywhere in his head. “Unfortunately, I have a prior engagement with my bed. I've got someplace I have to be early tomorrow, and I need my cat nap or I'll never make it through the day.”

Her nose scrunched up in distaste at the prospect of getting up early during a weekend. “On a Saturday?” she asked incredulously. “That just sounds like some form of torture.”

Chat grinned. At least they were of the same mind on that point. “It probably will be, but a commitment is a commitment. I'm a cat of my word.” He stood and began to back his way towards the ladder to the trapdoor. “I can come back tomorrow night,” he added hopefully. He didn't usually visit two nights in a row, but since this visit was so short, maybe… “And you could wallop me then.”

“Bring plenty of fighting spirit, because I've been practicing,” she replied, smiling once again. He was struck for the hundredth time by how very familiar the teasing tone of her voice was, and not because he had heard it from her so often now as Chat. When he took another step back towards the ladder, she asked, “Aren't you forgetting something, Chat Noir?” Her smile had turned impish.

It took him an embarrassingly long moment of staring to realize what she was referring to. By the time he had put two and two together, she had already stepped closer to him and offered her hand. “Oh. Right. How foolish of me.” He took her hand in his and couldn't help marveling at how well their hands fit together. Almost exactly like his and Ladybug's did.

But Marinette wouldn't push him away from the gesture, not tonight and not in the future. That wasn't who the two of them were together. Marinette wasn't Ladybug, and he was a little bit of a different Chat Noir when he was with her. Not as flirty, not as hopeful, not as self-aggrandizing.

If he thought about it, maybe he as Chat Noir acted the way he wished he as Adrien could act with Marinette.

Minus the hand-kissing, of course.

He pressed his lips to her hand, lingering just a moment longer than was really necessary. Her skin was warm beneath his touch, and there was the faintest scent of the bakery clinging to her. It almost made him not want to pull away.

He did still have to get up early in the morning, though, so he forced himself to straighten and release her hand. She had already agreed that he could come back tomorrow. This was only goodbye for a day. He'd survived longer than that without her before. Chat swept her a bow. “Until tomorrow, Princess.”

Her smile spread into that glimmer of sunlight that had nearly made his heart stop last time. It almost made his heart stop again now. “Until tomorrow, Chat Noir. And thank you.”

[spiders-hth-is-an-outlier]

Possibly a big ask to get just out of the blue but: what are your Supernatural season opinions? Which one is your favorite? Least favorite? Did you watch long enough to have showrunner opinions? If yes, which showrunner is your favorite and which is your least favorite? If no, which season that you haven't seen most tempts you to get back in the Supernatural trenches? Answer exactly as many of these questions as you want to. Carry on.

You know, I am not sure how long this Ask has been sitting here, because my Tumblr notifications are borked -- I hope not long? If long, I apologize, I wasn't ignoring it on purpose!

Okay, so I have more than the average number of Supernatural opinions, probably, but I'll try to keep this to a dull roar! Inside Me There Are Two Wolves: one of them believes that only the original five seasons of Supernatural are worth defending in any way, the other really, really loves seasons 11 and 12. The Kripke Era had a lot of problems, particularly in its treatment of women as bodies without agency and its treatment of Black men as literal predators, but also for all its flaws, it had a kind of coherence and narrative drive that comes from being the product of a dude who obviously cared about it and had something to say. Taken on its own, seasons 1-5 are a brutal and compelling story about the traumas of being men in a universe that's been absolutely destroyed by its Fathers: on almost every level, it's about these abandoned and brutalized boys discovering that their entire reality is the product of an abandoning and brutalizing God, populated by authority figures who are universally demanding and arrogant, but also completely fucking useless. It's quite literally about Sam and Dean trying to hang onto their souls and their own agency when everyone around them wants them forced into shapes formed by conflicts that fell into place at the beginning of time. It's hard to remember, but back then even the Lucifer plotline was about that! It was about the damage fathers inflict on sons! Things were about things, in the Kripke era!

Then we get to the Gamble era, and. Woof. I actually -- don't hate 6 and 7? Like everything Sera Gamble touches, those two seasons are kinetic and memorable and funny and weird and hit some really, really great emotional beats. There are Some Problems, but Gamble was saddled with a pretty dire job, trying to find a way forward after everything about the series really had effectively wrapped up in Swan Song, and I think she did an okay job. People got mad at her for killing Castiel, but you know, damn, I give her this: that was a storyline. Like, this character who was fresh out of the cult he was raised in becoming disillusioned by how messy normal life is and deciding that maybe people need better authoritarianism instead -- the way he's driven to take too many risks by the fact that he's abandoned and desperate -- Crowley as a legitimately scary villain while still being charming af -- and the tragic resolution of Castiel being torn apart by both his hubris and his heroism. It's actually really good. I understand why people didn't want what Gamble was serving up -- and I'm able to like it because it was undone later, you know? -- but she really did commit to a full season of character arc and saw it all the way through to an earned ending, and I gotta respect that.

I genuinely hate seasons 8 and 9. I think everyone is a dick, particularly but not exclusively Dean, to the point where I just find it a bummer to watch. I mean, you get Benny, and I love Benny. You get, I dunno, bits and bobs of decent episodes, but overall they are very fucked up seasons in my opinion. So Carver era is on thin fucking ice with me, but I do think you start to get a rebound in season 10 with the Mark of Cain stuff, although I wish they'd managed to keep Cain around longer. All the really good Claire stuff starts happening, which is nice because Claire, but also because for once the show is really letting itself go back and deal with the mess these protagonists leave behind them constantly. Castiel and Claire have maybe the most interesting non-Winchester relationship on the show. Oh, and Rowena shows up around here too, right? Love her. So the back half of Carver, 10 and 11, are starting to really gain traction for me. The world is building outward, secondary characters are starting to be genuine characters in their own right, the politics of Heaven and Hell get a little richer and more interesting. The show is really starting to feel like it takes place in a universe, which is great because we love the Frigging Winchesters, but they shouldn't be the only thing going, right? We have 15 seasons to get through! Season 11 is basically bracketed by what are probably my two favorite Supernatural episodes: Baby and Don't Call Me Shurley. (I think I'm the world's only living Metatron fan; I fucking love that little dude.)

Dabb takes over in 12, and I really, really, genuinely love season 12. I fucking love Mary. There are so many episodes I adore -- Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox is a special favorite of mine, and I remain pissed off that the Banes twins never made it to recurring status, bluntly that feels wildly racist to me -- probably the best three-episode streak in the show is Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets to Regarding Dean to Stuck In the Middle (With You), three just almost perfect episodes. So I was poised to really love the Dabb era. I wanted to! My body was ready!

And I do really love the first chunk of season 13, the Widow Winchester arc. Obviously I'm a romantic, love that for me, but it's just also really good? The acting, the writing, the psychological complexity of Dean wanting Jack to be Bad so he has an outlet for his anger and Sam wanting Jack to be Good so he can retroactively parent himself and raise a Lucifer-tainted child who isn't crippled by self-loathing. Billie's great, and it looks like she's going to start being one of the major powers of the universe. Unfortunately -- with the occasional exception of this or that solid episode -- that's kind of the end of Pretty Good Supernatural. Season 13 kind of unravels; season 14 always feels like it's looking for itself (which is a bummer, because I wanted very much to care about Michael); season 15 is, idk. Idk about any of it, it's all pretty pointless. I feel bad complaining on some level, because the show's been on for like fourteen years at this point! It's kinda justified in feeling a little worn out. But the reality is that the later seasons systematically undo all the expansion that had excited me earlier -- the Wayward Sisters crew pretty much vanishes when the spinoff isn't picked up, Naomi and the angels stop doing anything, Crowley's gone, Mary's gone for much of it. We're just kind of futzing around with monsters who don't seem to matter (very much including Lucifer, who hasn't mattered in ages) and a lot of Jack, who. I try not to shit all over, because I know he's a popular character, but I find him just ungodly boring. Everything in the last two and a half season just feels like it's headed nowhere in particular, and also it bored me. The Empty deal is just sadness porn; it doesn't have any resonance or meaning in terms of Castiel's character, it's just him agreeing to die for his kid, which is okay, it means he's a loving dad, which he is, but there's no conflict there, ergo no real drama. It's just mean; it happens because it'll make us sad, and no other reason. Rowena is the only strong secondary character left, and her ending also doesn't feel particularly relevant to her, it's just a generic Sacrifice to Save the World. Everything just feels like they're autogenerating plotlines, rather than letting the actual needs and drives of the characters shape the narrative. So while I have this weird split personality with Carver where I either hate what he's doing or I love it, most of the Dabb era is just. There. It doesn't make me feel anything except kind of tired and embarrassed. Which is a bummer, because I have an inexplicable fondness for Dabb, probably just because of how much I love s12. I wanted to love his seasons! I did love his first season! I feel like maybe something happened when the CW rejected Wayward Sisters? I know that was kind of his darling, and it feels like maybe losing that kind of sucked the joy out of him, and he's kind of checked-out by the end. That's genuinely just my guess, however.

That's Professor Milo's Intro to Supernatural Studies, don't forget to fill out your course survey on the way out!

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 50- To the East

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

A dragon spirit, guardians and attendants to the gods, is in peril. When a few hermits and the wanderers go to face the trouble, they’re not the only ones fighting against dark magic.

_______________________________________________

Not all of the hermits could afford to leave Doc behind, nor could they all make the trip in time. Avon’s insistent they leave now. She was about ready to transform into her dragon form and carry the wanderers to the eastern fjords. It was Ren that was able to calm her down just enough to think. In the end, they decided less is more. Avon doesn’t know what has her on edge, but she knows it’s not good. 

“My mentor, Flaryn, I… I have a really bad feeling.” Avon paces the floor. 

“Your mentor, like the dragon?” Mumbo squeaks, already feeling faint as he remembers facing Avon in the duel. What could possibly be causing a massive dragon trouble? 

As soon as Cub opens a portal, the wanderers are the first through. Following them is Iskall, already brandishing a spear of iskallium. Ren volunteers as well, offering up his dynamic, versatile magic. Three hermits, plus the three wanderers, set off through the portal, from the dark wooden bookstore to the verdant evergreen forests around the eastern fjords. Arriving beneath the pine canopy, someone was already waiting for them. 

“I got your message,” The long, ebony black haired sorceress reaches out, taking hold of Red’s hands and holding him close. Prolonged, pointy ears rise from the black curls like rocks from the sea, and deep purple eyes gaze upon the small group. “What’s going on?” 

“I don’t know, Selene.” Avon growls, brushing past everyone present. Her eyes wander across the tall mountains, covered in snow as they slope to the waters below. “Things just feel...disturbed. Out of balance, like a rockfall about to collapse.” 

“You called your master Flaryn, correct?” Cub questions, boots crunching heavy in the snow. Ren realizes he’s wearing sandals, and uses his imagination magic to conjure up a pair of boots. “You don’t mean to tell us that the dragon you learned your magic from is a dragon spirit? Flaryn, dragon of the east, guardian of balance, master of flame?” 

“Why does a dragon need that many surnames?” Iskall huffs. Cub’s eyes only widen when Avon gives a curt nod. Cub has gotten used to his fellow hermits being from incredible or strange backgrounds, but to master a magic from the very spirits that aid the gods? 

“Well, go big or go home, I guess.” Cub chuckles. “So...if something really is wrong, why don’t we go to Flaryn’s roost and check for ourselves?” 

“Because Flaryn lives at the top of that mountain,” Selene, now carrying Red through the snow as tall as the kipling, interjects. “And that isn’t just a mountain. That’s a fucking active volcano.” 

As if to prove her point, a low growl escapes the peak of the mountain, and smoke roils free like the maws of a dragon. And within the smoke, a massive shadow, wings outstretched, appears. Bigger than Avon’s dragon form, so big that even this far away the hermits can tell it’s great size. This was a dragon above dragons, a beast that could bend nature to it’s whim. 

And it was under attack. The dragon banks hard within the smoke, dancing with embers and tendrils of flames as lava erupts from the mountain peak. From the bottom of the mountain, the hermits can’t tell who is attacking, though they can make an educated guess on who would possibly have that much hubris to take on a messenger of the gods. 

If it wasn’t Dolios, then surely it was one of his council members. A roar shakes the ground at their feet, sending snow tumbling from trees. Selene uses her magic to create a shield, brushing aside the snow like it was little more than a gnat. Shield magic must be her power. Avon takes point, guiding the team up the mountain to the peak. Where she learned to control her magic.  A battle continues at the caldera, fire blazing from the mouth of Flaryn and strikes of magic shooting from the ground. 

A wayward breath of fire misses the combatant, orange flame burning down the mountain. Barreling for the team. Avon opens her wings to block the flame, but is little more than raising a hand to stop an avalanche. Iskall squeezes his eyes closed and waits to be burnt to a crisp by the superhot flame. 

It never comes. He waits a second longer, still braced and prepared for death. Still nothing. Iskall dares to open his eye, about to ask where his untimely death has gone. He finds it, instead, under the control of Selene. She’s ensnared the fire, dancing with the stream like it was little more than a ribbon of silk. When she’s gained full control of the flame, she turns it back up the mountain, aimed directly at the distance figure they’re approaching. 

Iskall blinks, stunned and confused. “I thought you were a shield wizard. Are you a multi-mage as well?” 

Avon doesn’t stop, leaving the others to follow. “I’m not a multi-mage, but I can do multiple forms of magic.” 

“How so?” That’s impossible. Most wizards only have one form of magic, as unique as their personalities. Multi-mages were an exception, as if the gods themselves couldn’t decide what magic the wizard would excel with. 

“Ever heard of a learned mage?” Red questions, falling into the snow and clambering through. It’s as high as his chest. When all three hermits shake their heads, he continues. “Learned wizards are born without magic, but with enough time and dedicated study are able to gain the understanding of powers and use it themselves.” 

“I had no innate magic. But I didn’t let that stop me. I’ve since learned more than twenty varieties of magic, and can perform them as well as wizards born with it.” Selene looks over her shoulder, a coy grin appearing on her face when she sees the stunned expression on the hermits’.  

Ren opens his mouth to ask a question, but the words that rise from his throat are lost to the wind, the thunder of the dragon above. It wasn’t an angered roar, not like those before, when Flaryn fought the intruder. Rather, it was more of a cry, higher pitched, sharper. Grating against their ears. Alarmed, Avon takes off, leaving the rest behind to join her mentor in the sky. Her trident is already in hand, flame erupting in a blossom of purple.

The distant figure turns, curly brown hair falling across his blue capelet, a scowl creasing the charismatic expression. “And i thought you’d be too busy handling your criminal friend to get in my way.” Dolios sneers. He attempts to blast Avon out of the sky, but the draconic mage dodges in the nick of time. “You flying lizards have always been such a pain, but imagine the honor of being the person to slay a dragon spirit.” 

“You’ll have to go through us first.” Avon hisses, then attacks. Dolios casts his wisping magic circle, corrupted by his dark magic. Just as unstable as the man that controls it. A heavy wind picks up, snapping the tops off trees and tossing Avon aside like she was little more than a leaf. With her out of the way, Dolios turns back to Flaryn. Another circle, this time summoning a swarm of wasps. The mottled monstrosities swarm the dragon, stinging and paralyzing the spirit. Forcing Flayrn to land as wings become overwhelmingly heavy. 

Iskall lets out a war cry, and plows through the deep snow, to the peak of the mountain. He shoves his shoulder, all his weight into Dolios. The two both go sprawling against the ground. Iskall can feel the heat of the erupting volcano, burning at his cheeks in waves of intense heat. 

“I think it’s time for you to meet your doom, you mega bastard.” Iskall growls, wrestling the magistrate. Dolios isn’t very strong, it turns out, all his attention focused on keeping Iskall from throwing him into the lake of lava. 

“Do you know any other adjectives except ‘mega’ and ‘doom’, or are you just too dense to learn a thesaurus?” Dolios hums. His words spark an angry fire in Iskall, frenzying him. 

Exactly how Dolios wanted it. With a swift repertoire of hand movements, Dolios casts his dark magic, and grabs hold of Iskall’s arm. Fingernails puncture under Iskall’s pale, exposed skin. Like venom from a wyrmbite, poison seeps under his skin, sending Iskall writhing backwards in pain. 

Red catches Iskall before he falls all the way down the volcano, while Selene casts not one, or two, but three different spells at once. Despite the uncertain predicament Dolios finds himself in, he’s more interested in the magic that’s trapped him rather than the fight. Through all of this, his nonchalant, charismatic smile never leaves, and never fails to infuriate the hermits. “It seems we have something in common here. Though one of us definitely chose the harder route.” 

“We are nothing alike, you asshole.” Selene hisses, reeling back and casting her magic. In the split second between the spell being summoned and taking effect, Dolios uses his own spell.. A concussive blast, just like he used in the chess match so long ago, sending the hermits and wanderers tumbling down through the snow. The mountain rumbles, snow shifting and threatening to collapse into an avalanche. To sweet away the rescue team.

“Well, at least now I have an audience to witness the beginning of a new sport.” Dolios rights himself, brushing the snow from his robes and turning back to the wasp covered, incapacitated dragon. “Dragons are so dangerous, only the strongest, bravest mages would dare slay a dragon. Think of the honor to be in such an exclusive group.” 

“Fucker!” Avon shouts, launching herself free from the snow, unleashing every once of her magic, as well as her trident, against Dolios. But he bats it away, and grabs the draconic mage from midair, hands wrapped around a wing and tipping her towards the explosive volcano below. 

“Well, if none of you are going to be a gracious audience, why not become willing participants as well? I may not have gotten the joy of seeing that criminal burn before my eyes. But I will relish in wiping you all from existence, right alongside this monster.” Dolios’s gaze turns wild, frenzied as he raises an arm. The sleeve of his robes falls back, wine red fabric and trimmed gold seams fleeing from the swirling black mist. The power of his dark magic grows stronger, more violent. Even from this far away, the hermits can feel the deadly, life draining energy that he harnesses. 

Dolios lines up the shot, so that every last hermit, every single wanderer, and eastern fire dragon is in the line of fire. A maniacal smile grows on his face, thirst for death and the feeling of pure control and power overwhelming him. The angled fingers turn, ready to snap together and release enough dark magic to destroy every living being in the line of fire. His thumb rests on his middle finger, pressing down. 

Then his eyes roll backwards, hand and body falling limp into the melting snow. None of the hermits, the wanderers, even Flaryn breathe for a second, realizing that Dolios is passed out. Not dead, unfortunately. But how? Did he overexert his dark magic? 

Another person is on the crest of the volcano. Long blue hair, straight and flat as if it had been slept on. Mostly because it was. Tired, bored eyes sparked with a hint of determination, and finned ears flick aside the pyroclastic ash from the eruption. His chest rises and falls, body exhausted from overusing his magic. 

“You don’t have much time.” Apatia breathes, body slumped. About to pass out as well. “I did as much as I could to keep him knocked out as long as possible, but his mgic took the brunt of my own. You leave, I’ll make sure the dragon spirit is okay.” 

The councilmember steps forward, offering a hand to the hermits. Ecto recoils, preferring to sink deeper into the snow she hates than be anywhere near Apatia. “Why should we trust you? You’re a part of his crony gang. You’ve been letting him, helping him do horrible things!” 

Apatia’s shoulders slump, and he looks as exhausted mentally as he is physically. “I don’t have time to explain everything. He’s going to wake up soon, and he won't fall for that trick again. Let’s just say I… I’m tired of just letting bad things happen to good people.” 

Red’s the first up, the two kiplings looking at one another. Apatia offers a soft nod, some unspoken conversation between the two. Avon does her best to ease the pain and help her mentor from the wasp attack, while Cub opens a portal. 

“Can’t we just drop him into the volcano?” Ren questions. “This could finally all be over.” 

“It won’t stop his work, not with Eurynomos in the forest. Waiting.” The hermits glance at one another. Eurynomos. Is that the name of the beast they found? “Just...send him back to Milliara. We can’t have people wondering what’s happened to their beloved magistrate as well.”

“Just one stab?” Avon questions, still furious he called her a monster. “He deserves more than what we’re letting him off with.”

To Cub’s chagrin, he knows that Apatia is right. As much as he’d love to finish Dolios off now, to get this over with, nothing is ever that easy. Once Dolios is gone, there team of rescuers step through their own portal. The wanderers first, and the hermits following after. 

Iskall steps through last, but turns while he’s in between places. Looking at the councilmember. Apatia looks back, exhausted. “Know that you hermits aren’t alone. This is your fight, but you have others on your side now too.”

[giuliafc]

Stuck in a Cabin (with you)

Stuck in a Cabin (with you)

Read on: Ao3 || FFN || Wattpad

Summoned to save his Lady's life, Adrien gets stuck with her in a cabin during a blizzard. Identities get revealed, feelings come out...but who's been plotting to kill Marinette? Will the culprit be punished? Read to find the answer :) (Adrienette)

Written by: JuliaFC

Betas: Khanofallorcs, Agrestebug, Etoile-Lead-Sama and genxha. Thank you all so much!

Cover Art credit: Rosehealer02 on Deviantart

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by (c) Thomas Astruc, TS1 Bouygues, Disney Channel, Zagtoon, Toei Animation. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Chapter 1 — Lila’s plan

Lila sighed looking at the message that had just pinged on her phone.

Mamma: [Sorry, tesoro. I got stuck at work because of the snow, don’t know when I’ll get home tonight. If you want, you can order something. Otherwise dried pasta is in the first cupboard at the side of the hob. I’ll make it up to you. Love you!]

Even after all those years, messages like those left a hollow feeling into her heart. Lila had been moving around a lot in the last few years, because of her mother’s job. She hated her mother’s job. Because of it, Lila had had to leave her grandparents and aunt in Sicily and all her childhood friends. Besides, her mother had been completely absent since she started working at the embassy, sometimes not even coming back home before Lila went to bed. Sometimes she wouldn’t see her for days in a row because when she woke up to go to school, mamma was sleeping and when Lila would go to bed, mamma wouldn’t even have started to come home. Mamma tried to make up for it by filling her days off with a lot of activities they could do together, but that wasn’t enough for Lila. She wanted more. She wanted her mother all for herself, like she had been at home, when papà had been there and mamma hadn’t yet obtained her role at the Italian Embassy.

She had been moved around like a pawn: Vienna for a couple of years, then Berlin, Geneva, Dublin and finally Paris. A lot for a 14 year old girl, having to leave it all behind way too many times.

When she moved to Vienna, she had been bullied quite badly because of her accent and her difficulty speaking the language. She had been ostracised and had spent the better part of two years fighting against stupid kids that she couldn’t even understand very well. Add to the mix the fact that papà ended up having an affair and mamma decided to divorce and leave him, and Lila’s life became even worse, even lonelier.

Luckily her mother had been moved to Berlin, but the situation hadn’t improved for her. Vienna or Berlin, the language was still incomprehensible to her and the kids didn’t like her because she was new, uncool, and because her accent sucked. Because her skin was too olive. Because her hair was too brown, or her eyes too green. They used to make fun of her hairstyle, of her clothes, of anything they could put their hands on. Lila started developing a huge amount of rage, frustration and anger. Plus, she missed her papà terribly, and she couldn’t understand in her mind why her mamma had decided to leave him.

Then she moved to Geneva, and on her first day there she met a girl who ‘acted’ cool. She was a couple of years older than Lila; her name was Charlotte, but she allowed Lila to call her Lottie. She took her under her wing and gave her some very interesting lessons. Lottie was a manipulative wench. She used to be the most popular girl in class because she always knew what to say in order to flatter the interlocutor, twist words around and obtain their favour. Lila was fascinated by her ability and craved to learn how to do the same. She worked for months to copy Lottie’s mannerisms and behaviour.

‘In life, you need to always take the upper hand,’ Lottie told her. ‘Tell people what they want to hear. This will automatically bring them to your side, and when you have them wrapped around your little finger, there’s nothing that they won’t do for you. You just need to keep up the appearances and you’re set for life.

‘Always settle for the best. If you set your eyes on a boy, make sure that he’s the best catch in the whole school. Make sure to understand what he likes and slowly set your trap. Let him fall for you, and you’ll be automatically the most popular gal around.’ Lottie had proved her own advice right easily, and had ended up in a relationship with a pop singer that attended their school. That increased her popularity even more and Lila became much more envious of her.

‘If someone bothers you, destroy them before they can attack you, or as soon as you can after that,’ was Lottie’s last bit of advice.

Lottie taught Lila to act cool, taught her that image was everything. Soon ,they had become like twin sisters and instead of being the bullied one, for once Lila enjoyed the feeling of being the bully. They were L&L’s, and they were respected. Her heart broke the day her mother told her that they were moving again, but she had no choice. Saying goodbye to Lottie was one of the most difficult things she had to do in her still young life.

‘Stay strong, Lil,’ Lottie had told her. ‘Remember, image is everything. Teach those Dubliners how great you are and you won’t have any trouble. And if you do,’ she added with a wink, ‘send me a message and I’ll hop on the first flight!’

That had made her laugh. Lottie acted strong and rich, but Lila knew that in reality she would never have been able to uphold her promise, as she was still too young, and had no money.

Dublin hadn’t been that bad for her. Except the weather. The HORRIBLE Irish weather. She still had nightmares of the torrential rain and the storms. But at least, there was the sea. Lila had missed the sea so much in the last few years. She used to make excuses that she was sick, to skip school, take the DART metropolitan train and get off at Portmarnock, Greystones or Bray (more the first two than the latter, because the sandy beach reminded her more of the shores at home). She would walk on the beach without a care in the world, listening to the sound of the waves crashing on the sand.

She had followed Lottie’s advice and had acted cool as soon as she started in her new school. She had gotten used to lying when she was in Geneva under Lottie’s wing, and now the lies came out more natural than the truth. She had become immediately popular when she started, managing to get into a relationship with the most exclusive guy in the class (she didn’t like him, as he was a twat, so full of himself that you could hear him boasting from a distance, but she didn’t care. He was popular and that was all that mattered. He would never realise that she was only using him). She learned how to trick everybody, making them think that she knew all sorts of actors and celebrities. It was fantastic, she was loved and popular and her life was amazing. She was so upset when her mother was moved once more.

And that’s how she ended up in Paris — again far from her beloved sea. She hated the city, she hated the noise and the frantic way of life. Despite the horrible weather, she had loved Dublin because it was smaller and reminded her more of the small town she was born in. But Paris was massive, full of people, of noise. She couldn’t stand the noise. And she hated all those lights. Ville lumière my foot.

Immediately as she started in Françoise Dupont, she tried to remake the same setting she had carefully created in her previous location. But she found the big obstacle of Marinette Dupain-Cheng. The most annoying girl Lila had ever dealt with. Except Ladybug, obviously. Such a tiny girl, but such a big problem for her, and for her resolution to follow Lottie’s footsteps. From the very beginning, Marinette had never fallen for her lies. From the very beginning, she had tried to unmask her and show to everyone her true colours. From the very beginning, she had been an absolute and utter pest.

Lila had fought back. She wouldn’t make it easy for Marinette to win against her; Lila had soon managed to get every student in the class wrapped around her little finger, as Lottie had taught her. She had hoped that soon Marinette wouldn’t be a problem anymore. But unfortunately, she still was. Even more annoyingly, Adrien, whom she was trying to charm in order to again be the most popular girl in school who dated the most handsome and popular guy, seemed to believe Marinette.

Lila had tried all her tricks. She had tried to bring the whole class to her side, she had tried to even manipulate Adrien’s father and make him think that Marinette was a bad influence on his son. But nothing seemed to have an effect on the blond model, and Lila had gotten desperate. She had finally managed to set up a great trap and had gotten Marinette expelled. However, the joy hadn’t lasted long because Adrien had threatened her and had gotten to the point of making a deal with her so that Marinette would be readmitted to school.

Lila was seething that day, but she had no choice. Losing Adrien’s friendship would have been even more detrimental to her image. It didn’t matter if it was only a fake friendship; it would add to her image, and image was everything, as Lottie said.

The more time passed, the more Lila hated Marinette. She had tried everything she could to make her life miserable, but the young designer somehow always managed to resist. Even getting akumatised and trying to use Hawkmoth’s power against Marinette didn’t work, because Ladybug and Chat Noir would get in the way and protect her. They would try to expose Lila’s lies. She had had to make her lies become bigger and bigger and create more and more imaginative excuses in order to keep up with the popularity she craved. And it was never enough, because Marinette always managed to dismiss her claims and most of the time prove her wrong.

From Lila’s point of view, Marinette was the enemy. She was the sole obstacle left in her path to getting what she wanted, and she would get what she wanted, no matter the cost. In her mind, there was only one path left to take to get rid of her.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng had to DIE.

Finally, she had managed to come up with the perfect plan. The perfect opportunity.

The perfect excuse: a school project. She had cheated the sorting and gotten paired with Alya, and the weather today was giving her even more help. When something is meant to be, it’s meant to be. It had already been a cold winter up to then, but very unusually for Paris, in the last week the temperature had dropped way below zero. In fact, it had dropped so low that it had been declared the coldest winter in history, only topped once in the late 1800’s.

Lila didn’t like the cold. Her family came from a little village on the sea, where it was always warm even in the bad season. Yes, it had been cold from time to time, but the sea warmed the temperature up and made the chill more bearable. Her beautiful sea, which she missed so much after having gotten a taste of it back in Dublin. But there was no sea in Paris, only that stupid river… and no warm weather in the winter, especially not this year.

But that cold weather, for once, wasn’t upsetting her because it was helping her craft her plan; she had faced the freezing temperature that very morning before school, and had set up her trap. She would use the cold to her advantage. And this time, she’d have the perfect alibi, and not even Adrien would suspect of her.

This time Marinette would be gone. Forever.

“Are you all right, Lila?” asked Alya, her face showing genuine concern when Lila dumped her phone on the desk in front of her with a pout.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just another charity event being cancelled this week because of the snow,” she made up. Alya’s frown disappeared and the girl gave her a look full of admiration.

“I don’t know how you do it, Lila, your commitment to charities and people in need is admirable, really.”

Lila gave Alya her best puppy eyed glance. “This city, and especially Ladybug and Chat Noir, have done so much for me with all the times I have been akumatised. It’s only nice to give something back!”

Alya put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re a truly amazing person, Lila. I have been akumatised four times, and I guess half of Paris has been in a way or another, but nobody does all you do to ‘give it back to the community’.” The girl with glasses looked at her door thoughtfully. “But if you’ll excuse me a moment, I need the restroom.”

And that’s when the perfect opportunity arose. Alya’s phone was resting on the desk in front of them. Lila gave a cunning side glance to the brunette who had just stood up and was fixing her glasses on her nose and, with a graceful flick of her finger, she pushed Alya’s phone slightly making it fall to the ground, quickly kicking it with her foot underneath the computer desk so that Alya wouldn’t find it.

“Uh… I’m sure my phone was here a moment ago…” muttered Alya looking at the computer desk and scratching her head. She moved her gaze around superficially, but since she couldn’t see the phone anywhere, she sighed. “Well, never mind. I’ll be right back,” she said, looking at Lila before disappearing from view.

“Take your time,” said Lila, her lips curling in a wide smirk as she picked up the phone from the ground. Things seemed to be going her way this time. The phone was unlocked. Lila’s eyes had a triumphant gleam in them as she looked for a conversation with Marinette.

She quickly peeked to ensure that Alya was still in the restroom and opened the chat with Marinette. Then she typed the message she had been planning all day, clicking send immediately after.

Alya (Lila): [Hey, girl! The girls and I are planning to go to Lac Daumesnil. Fancy doing some ice skating with us?]

She kept eyeing the door of the restroom with concern, but Alya was still there. Soon she saw the three dots of the conversation flashing, meaning that Marinette was answering.

Marinette: [It’s been some time since I went ice skating. Last time was a disaster. Sounds like a good idea, Alya. I will be there in an hour]

Alya (Lila): [Great. Start skating if you get there before us. We’re on our way!]

Marinette: [OK!]

Lila looked at the messages with a smirk and took care of deleting each of them one by one. Alya wasn’t going to find out. It was after she had just deleted the last message that Alya emerged from the restroom and she put the phone down immediately.

Alya frowned at her. “Are you okay, Lila?”

“Yes. I found your phone; it was on the floor here.” She pointed at the side of the desk. “I thought I heard it notify you of something, but there’s no notification, nothing at all.”

Alya looked at her phone with interest. “Oh. Maybe an akuma alert?” She started scrolling through her phone, but she didn’t find anything new. “That’s peculiar, there’s no new announcement.”

“Don’t worry, I must have made a mistake,” said Lila, dismissing the conversation with a gesture of her right hand. “So we were saying, about Napoléon?”

This took Alya’s attention away from her phone and brought her back to concentrating on the project they were working on. Lila smirked — her plan was unfolding well.

Author’s Note:

Hi again! I know, I know, another story. I told you I was going to unload everything I had this weekend. This isn’t finished yet (well, one part is, and in theory it could be left like that, but the second part I thought is worth writing!) so I will update this, the AU and “When Magic Fails” as soon as I can. Hope you liked getting inside Lila’s head. The next chapters are not about her, don’t worry. Or rather, worry, because the next chapters are her plan unfolding. And the title of the next chapter (and the beautiful cover art) is kind of revealing… so, well, I’ll hide again… ^^;

In the next instalment of “Stuck in a cabin (with you)”, “Drowning”:

— “I don’t know, Marinette. This sounds fishy. Why aren’t your friends here yet?”

— “I can’t move, Tikki, I think I have cramps! HELP ME!”

— “Sugarcube! It won’t happen again, not if we can help it, don’t worry!”

Ehrm… I know. Doesn’t sound good, right? ^^ Please subscribe if you’re interested in knowing what is going to happen, so you will know when the next update is!

Last but not least, as usual, if you read this and you’re not part of our wonderful Discord server already, but you enjoy reading, writing and talking about Miraculous, please join our Discord server, Miraculous Fanworks (for people on FFN, discord dot gg slash mlfanworks). See you there soon. Not sure when I will update this story but it won't be too long! Promise!

[zerogate]

Earlier we said that the habit of reacting negatively to unpleasant circumstances triggers the pendulum’s mechanism for capturing thought energy. This habit will fade if you decide to play your own game in which you deliberately substitute negative emotion with positive emotion: confidence for fear, enthusiasm for gloom, indifference for resentment; joy for irritation. Try reacting “inappropriately” to small nuisances. You have nothing to lose. It might seem a silly game to play but the pendulum will have no chance. The game style only seems silly because pendulums have trained us to exclusively play the games that are of benefit to them...

To align your will with a negative thought machine means to play the game of a destructive pendulum and radiate energy at its resonance frequency. This is a very detrimental habit. It is entirely in your interests to replace it with the habit of consciously controlling your thoughts. Whenever your mind is unoccupied, when you are travelling, going for a walk or doing work that does not require deep concentration, make sure that you programme yourself to think positive thoughts. Do not think about what you have been unable to achieve. Think about what you want to achieve, and you will achieve it...

Instead of playing the game of a destructive pendulum, seek out pendulums that benefit you in some way by their game. Acquire the habit of giving your attention to all that is positive and good. As soon as you see, read or hear something pleasing or encouraging hold it in your thoughts and let it lift your spirits.

Once you have experienced a brief moment of inspiration or joy it is easy to get pulled back into the stresses of your daily routine. The feeling of elation is forgotten and the working day takes over. To keep the festive feeling in your life, first and foremost you have to remember it. Habit makes us jump head first back into the monotony of everyday life. The negative pendulums make us forget whatever the good thing was that happened and we loose a sense of the pleasure it gave us.

You have to support the little flame of enthusiasm and nourish the feeling it gives you inside. Observe how life is moving in a better direction, take hold of any straw of happiness you are offered and look for good signs in everything. At the very least it will keep you from being bored...

Good news is quickly forgotten because it gives us no cause for concern. In contrast, bad news evokes an active response because it poses a potential threat. If you do not let bad news into your heart, you will not allow it into your life. Close yourself off to bad news and remain open to good news. It is important to note and carefully nourish any positive change in your life for these are the messengers of the wave of fortune. As soon as you hear any even slightly encouraging news, rather than forgetting the information immediately afterwards, as you would have done previously, savour, discuss and track it. Think the news over from all points of view. Take pleasure in it...

From the point of view of Transurfing, the habit of expressing displeasure at little things is harmful and undermining, whereas the habit of taking pleasure in tiny details is empowering. For this reason the technique is aimed at substituting the former habit with the latter. The technique is very simple. However banal it sounds, every cloud has a silver lining. If you set yourself the task of looking for the positive in every negative situation you encounter, you will find that it is not actually that difficult to do. It can even be a kind of game. If you play the game consistently, the old habit will be replaced by the new one, which will be of great benefit to you personally but a nightmare for destructive pendulums!

-- Vadim Zeland, Reality transerfing

[shutupmimsy]

The Problem With Tweek Tweak

There has been an almost four year long problem now in the fandom regarding Tweek. This is not a personal problem, this is a serious issue with the fandom that I feel needs to be addressed.

Get ready for a long post, because this will address a lot of issues that the fandom has been dealing with, and I feel anybody who likes Tweek Tweak as a character should take a glance at this post.

Tweek is a lot of people’s favorite characters (including mine!). He can be relatable, is a good example of anxiety and other mental health disorders, and he’s a character that’s got a lot of characterization ahead of him.

You can tell from his room that he has a variety of interests, ranging from cars and legos to tanks and warplane figurines. He is a character that has a lot of subtle characterization, that I’m sure a lot of people enjoy.

And he has not been a point of focus in the fandom in a very long time up until a few years ago. It’s great that he’s getting more focus now! But people are not doing it in a good way.

Ever since Tweek X Craig, a majority of the fandom has treated Tweek like he is not his own character, through and through. They have treated him like an accessory to Craig, and seldom do I ever see a piece of fan art anymore that involves just Tweek, but not Craig. Or, just Tweek, and nobody else, for that matter. It seems as though people like to use him exclusively for shipping, and almost every time they do, he seems to be... not so much like himself.

To get to the point, the South Park fandom has a very, very terrifying characterization of Tweek Tweak that is borderline infantilization. By this, I mean people have warped him into this character with little to no depth beyond being anxious, small, and weak. And I feel like a lot of people need a serious wake up call.

Tweek has been on the show for a very long time, and while he doesn’t have too much focus past his time in season 6 and much more recently in a couple of his own episodes, he still has clues to who he is as a character.

Tweek has not hesitated to hurt people.

He has not hesitated to threaten people.

He has not hesitated to become offended by rude accusations.

And he has never, ever hesitated to speak his own mind.

Adding your own characterization to your favorite character is not an inherently bad thing, and neither is self projection. People enjoy characters that they can feel they relate to, and that they find interesting. People can develop on characters where they feel the original creator has left out on.

However, there is a difference between self-projection and head-canons, and infantilization in a character.

The issue with a lot of the fandom in the last few years is that they have chosen specifically Tweek, specifically the only main cast character to have a canon, healthy, gay relationship, and turned him into a walking “cute smol baby” caricature. People give him overly feminine traits, reduce his character to nothing, and make him reliant on another person. None of which on it’s own is an inherently bad thing (except maybe reducing a character ooc levels of characterization), but when they’re all put together, on one of the only gay characters that has not been over-sexualized and feminized, it creates a rather ugly problem.

There is no one way to head canon a character, and no one way on how to see a character. You can give a character feminine traits if you head canon it. You can give the character happiness and joy in their on self-expression. There is no rule against drawing a character with your own head canons, ever.

And this definitely does not apply to Tweek Tweak as he is canon in the show. This applies to when people age up the characters, and somehow decide to make Tweek act and look younger than his canon 10 y/o self. It is alarmingly p/d/philic, in a way. Perhaps not on his own. If you draw every character you age up as small, cute, and shy, that’s when it’s fine. When you pick a male character who is in a relationship with another male, and twist him into a cookie cutter trope of a cute, small, overly feminine child, that is when it gets very concerning.

Height differences are one major problem. Honestly, this can apply to so many other ships in the fandom it’s not even really funny, but this post is focusing on Tweek, so we’ll stick to Tweek. Height differences aren’t bad. But the level of difference where it’s not even realistic, that’s a pretty unhealthy way of interpreting a relationship.

The moment you draw Tweek appearing as tiny, cute, small, and covered in colorful, cutesy things, and then turn around and draw Craig as tall, manly, protective and hardened, you’ve made a mistake of infantilizing Tweek. A very unhealthy way to portray the only actually healthy gay couple in the canon universe.

The moment you characterize Tweek to cling and hide behind his boyfriend, rather than act how he probably would in the show, you’re portraying him as weak and defenseless and useless, compared to his boyfriend, which is an unhealthy way to portray him and his relationship.

And by the point it gets to this kind of characterization... I shouldn’t even have to explain how that’s down right wrong.

These kinds of issues have run rampant in the fandom for a handful of years now, and it just so happens that there are many new people who have joined in over the years. A lot of people who haven’t seen all of the episodes yet, or only join in because they like the characters. A lot of people who are impressionable, and will think that this characterization is okay. And when the fandom is flooded with aged up 10 y/o characters, that are only aged up just to create a p/d/philic image of them, that is a problem.

It’s an issue I think should be addressed, and I believe people should sit back and think about how they are drawing Tweek, and how they head-canon him. If you believe Tweek is a shy, gentle, and cutesy character to the core, I implore you to look at him again.

TL;DR: The infantilization of Tweek in the fandom is a gross attack on one of the only healthily portrayed gay-coded characters in the fandom, and you should re-evaluate how you view Tweek if you think that’s fine.

[world-of-ryan]

When COVID-19 shut down production last March, it especially hit hard for NBC’s New Amsterdam. The show not only films at several real-life hospitals, including Bellevue Hospital in Manhattan, Kings County Hospital in Brooklyn and Metropolitan Hospital in Harlem, but it also had a pandemic storyline planned. Of course, not the coronavirus specifically.

“There was so much fear and anxiety at that time around the pandemic, we didn’t want to air an episode where people were getting sick left and right and further scare people,” says series star Ryan Eggold, who plays medical director Dr. Max Goodwin, in this exclusive interview.

But New Amsterdam will touch on the COVID-19 pandemic in its Season 3 premiere. It will feature a very powerful montage showing the doctors and nurses at work trying to save lives, working until they are exhausted, showing people getting vaccinated, and then moving into post-pandemic stories.

“Working on a hospital show, post-pandemic, our first responsibility is to tell the stories of the nurses and doctors who have worked so tirelessly to try to keep people safe and healthy,” Eggold continues. “Peter Horton directed that episode. And I think his and [executive producer] David [Schulner]’s intention was to honor the healthcare workers and what they’ve been through and start in that place of, this has been Ground Zero of fighting the pandemic, and it has taken its toll on everybody.”

From there, the story continues with Dr. Vijay Kapour’s (Anupam Kher) life hanging in the balance due to COVID, Dr. Helen Sharpe (Freema Agyeman) unable to touch people as a result of lingering anxieties, Dr. Iggy Frome (Tyler Labine) facing his eating disorder/body issues and Dr. Lauren Bloom (Janet Montgomery) unable to give up her patients to their special-care physicians.

“It’s kind of like that wartime mentality with soldiers coming back and having trouble adjusting to civilian life,” Eggold says. “These doctors were so overwhelmed with patients, not enough beds and trying to keep up. What are the ramifications on their personal life and their psyche? And how do they get back to the new normal?”

Also, viewers will get a long-awaited moment between Max and Helen. Expect some resolution regarding their feelings for each other, despite the fact that Helen has moved on with new head trauma surgeon Dr. Cassian Shin (Daniel Dae Kim).

“I will say that I think Max and Helen have a unique relationship that they are forced to confront this season and figure out what it means for better or for worse, and finally name what has been unspoken for a while,” Eggold adds.

For more scoop on season 3 of New Amsterdam, read more of the interview with Eggold.

How did the New Amsterdam pandemic episode compare to what actually happened?

I haven’t seen that episode because it didn’t air, which is usually how I see them, so I would be curious to know myself. It’s pretty wild. It’s happened to the writers a few times where they’ve written something and then it happens later. But nobody could have predicted COVID was going to happen.

I saw the first two episodes and it feels like a sadder show this year. Will that continue?

No. There’s a lot of humor. I was saying to David, “Is Max getting too broad?” There has been a lot of humor on the show lately, which is nice. I think it’s important to find humor and joy amid a pandemic because we have to remind ourselves what we’re fighting for. The intention is not to make it super heavy and sad, but certainly in the beginning to discuss it; it is a heavy, overwhelming, larger-than-life situation that we’ve all been through.

Max also seems to have lost his “How can I help?” attitude–which is what inspired him to take the job and kept him going when he lost his wife. Will he get that back?

Yeah. I think it’s evolved from how can I help, or how can I fix the system and make it better, to how do we begin again? And how do we build from the ground up because we weren’t prepared for this and it changed a lot of things. I think his perspective has widened in a good way and he will see things differently this season.

What will be the new challenges for Max this season?

One thing is he’s a single dad who is trying to get his hospital through this pandemic. And he has left his daughter Luna with [late wife] Georgia’s parents in an effort to protect her and keep her safe as he is going to the hospital every day. But I think there’s a lot of guilt like, “Am I doing the right thing? Am I being a bad father by not being there? Am I neglecting her?” So, that’s something that he wrestles with.

Then the question of romance. Is there a partner for him to find and is he ready to start a relationship with someone after losing his wife? In the back of his mind, I think it’s something he wants, not only for himself but for his daughter.

(Photo by: Virginia Sherwood/NBC)

There’s a moment where Max realizes that some of his great, crazy ideas aren’t always the right way to do things. Is he growing?

Absolutely. He’s a character who’s full of ambition to change things and to make things better. And he’s very headstrong and optimistic. He’s certainly overly idealistic about how to make those changes happen. The show is about finding out the reality of how that change happens. You have these lofty ideas of, “I want to make everything better, I want to do X, Y and Z,” and you can’t do that overnight, so what does it look like on a daily basis? How does change occur on a systemic level, which is certainly bigger than the individual?

To your point about admitting fault, I think he’s learning that he can’t do this on his own and he can’t change the world overnight and that you need other people. You can’t be a one-man band, so I think he’s going through a lot of change and evolving a lot.

What was it like filming in the hospital in March 2020?

Our last day of filming we were at Kings County Hospital in Brooklyn, and it was weird. People were starting to get nervous, “Should we be filming in a hospital?” We didn’t know a lot about it. Is this real? Is this really growing the way people say it’s going to grow? And very quickly, the world changed overnight.

It’s the right decision not to film in the hospital right now, not for our show, but to get out of the way of the hospitals and to let them function to the best of their capacity when there are so many serious things that need to be addressed. And, then for the show, to keep everybody safe, of course. But I hope we can get back to that once this pandemic is behind us because there’s always this wonderful authenticity to be found when we can shoot in those places because you are near the reality of healthcare so it helps you reflect that story.

Did it take New Amsterdam longer to come back because you had to change your filming locations?

We had to build a lot of sets. We had to build a lot of the hospital locations that we use, and we had to add more sets and locations we could film in. Then everybody was just making sure it was safe and making sure we had the practices and protocols in place to do our job, be safe and not put anybody at risk. To everyone’s credit, it feels really safe. We’re tested every day and we have a lot of protocols in place that keep the set running efficiently and safely. It’s a good place to be.

How did you handle the pandemic?

I look back and that was so much time that we had. I feel like I should have written a novel, climbed a mountain, or something. But, no, I slowly went crazy and did all the usual, like slept. I did do a fair amount of writing. I wrote a screenplay, trying to put my brain to work a little bit. I was in denial like, “This will only last a month of weird whatever.” Then a month goes by and you’re like, “I guess it’s still going.” Seven months go by and it was crazy. It was nice to slow down and catch up with family and unplug for a minute. I wish it had been under better circumstances and people’s lives weren’t at risk, but, yeah, there were some positives.

[clumsyclifford]

I came across a list of "ridiculous sentence starters" that I decided were actually too ridiculous to use as prompts but there was one that had malum potential: "so I may have accidentally adopted 5 kittens"

absolutely inspired as usual, meghna

read it here on ao3

-

Michael’s text says NO BIG DEAL BUT CALL ME WHEN YOU CAN!!! X and the kiss is capitalized, so Calum decides it’s at least a little bit of a big deal and calls.

The first call goes to voicemail. Calum likes leaving annoying voicemails for Michael, so when the beep sounds, he says, “Mike, you absolute fucker, why should I call you if you’re just going to send me to voicemail? Do you love me or not? Am I going to have to break up with you? Is this the end? ‘Cause it feels like the end to me, Mike. Also, I’ll be home in about five—”

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Calum says, rolling his eyes and smiling. “You interrupted my cute voicemail I was leaving you.”

“Oh, cool,” Michael says, obviously having heard nothing of what Calum just said. “So, listen, you’re on your way home, right?”

“Yeah, I was saying I’m like five minutes away.”

“Brilliant,” Michael says. “Great. Um, well, before you get here there’s, uh, something that…has happened in the house. There’s a new addition that was not there before. That you should probably know about.”

“Did you buy another monitor? You don’t need more than two, Michael, honestly.”

“No, nope, not a monitor.” Michael mutters something that sounds like I wish and then he’s back on the line. “Look, don’t freak out, okay? There’s a perfectly decent explanation. I swear.”

It’s not that Calum doesn’t trust Michael, he does, but whenever the words “don’t freak out” come into play, there’s a small part of Calum that immediately begins freaking out.

“Okay?” he says hesitantly, slowing to a stop at a red light. “Well, you better tell me quick, because I’m about to turn into the neighborhood, so…”

“So,” Michael says, picking up the thread. He clears his throat. “So I may have accidentally adopted five kittens.”

At which point Calum really has to wonder how this became his life.

He blinks as the light turns green and makes the left into their neighborhood. “I’m really not sure which part of that sentence to start with. Accidentally?”

“Yes,” Michael says. A beat. “As in, I didn’t mean to but I did.”

“Yes, I’m familiar with the definition of an accident,” Calum says dryly. “I’d love to know how you accidentally adopted five kittens.”

“Well, you know how I’m kind of really bad at saying no?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Calum says, turning right. “Okay. I’m gonna hang up, process this, and when I get home in two minutes you can explain it to me.”

“Sorry,” Michael says, which somehow does not feel like the right thing for him to be saying. It’s followed by, “Love you,” which is a lot better, and after Calum echoes the sentiment, the call ends.

A minute later, Calum parks the car in the driveway, grabs the groceries from the backseat, and locks the car. He bustles through the front door, calling out for Michael as he does.

“Hi,” Michael says, smiling nervously at Calum like he thinks Calum’s really going to be cross about the kittens thing.

Calum rolls his eyes. “I don’t care about the kittens, babe, I’d just really like an explanation.”

Michael sighs in relief. “Okay. Well. That’s good.”

“Also, can I, like…meet them?” Calum glances around; the living room looks roughly the same. “Where are they?”

Michael nods. “They’re in the guest room for now. I don’t know, it felt like the right place for them?”

Calum sets the bag of groceries down, even though he really needs to get dinner started — hence the trip to the store — and follows Michael to the guest room, which is suspiciously silent. 

“I think they’re asleep,” Michael tells him in a low voice, “so don’t be noisy.”

Inside, the kittens are all curled up in the corner of a big cage which Calum knows for a fact is a new purchase, considering they’ve never had any reason to own a cage. Two are white, one is grey, one is black, and one is black and white, and they’re all napping with various limbs tucked into or on top of or underneath each other. Calum has always considered himself a dog person, but at this sight his entire heart melts into liquid gold.

“Oh,” he whispers, slowly kneeling to get a better look. “Oh my God, they’re so cute. They’re so cute.”

“I know,” Michael whispers back. At the sound of speaking, one of the white kittens opens its eyes, casting a sleepy glance at Calum. It doesn’t seem terribly bothered to see him, because after a moment of Calum holding his breath it closes its eyes again and huffs quietly.

Calum is going to die. They’ll put cuteness overload on his cause of death and he’ll be mocked for years to come.

“We shouldn’t wake them,” Michael whispers, and Calum agrees. They back quietly away from the cage and exit the guest room. Michael shuts the door softly behind him.

“So we have five kittens in our custody,” Calum says. “Very adorable kittens, but kittens nonetheless.”

“Yes,” Michael says. 

Calum raises his eyebrows. “Care to explain how?”

“Yes,” Michael says again. He bites his lip. “No. Well. Long story short, I am very bad at saying no to things, and the woman at the pet shop was extremely convincing. And also said that I seem like I would be a great cat owner, which I would, Calum!”

“You will be,” Calum says. “You had better be, because you now own five cats.��

Michael grins. “I know! I know that’s fucking insane, but whatever! We’re adults. We can just have cats.”

“I don’t know anything about taking care of cats,” Calum warns him as he makes his way back to the kitchen. “I’ve only ever had dogs.”

“That’s okay, I’ve done lots of reading,” Michael says confidently. “Plus, we get to name them and I know you love to name things so I figured you could help.”

Calum shakes his head bemusedly. “Did you come up with all kinds of ways to sweet-talk me into letting you keep the cats? Why didn’t you think I’d just be okay with it?”

“Because I did it without consulting you first? Because we live together and I’ve just introduced five new living creatures to our environment?”

Calum sighs and pauses in the midst of putting away groceries. He turns to Michael. “Mikey, you’ve wanted a cat for, and this is a rough estimate here, about a hundred million years. This isn’t, like…how I expected it to go, but I’m not mad or anything.” After a moment, he adds, “I mean, you’re not wrong. It would have been better to talk about it first. And also to probably not end up with five rather than one. But.” He shrugs. “Whatever. They’re cats. They’re easy to love and easy to care for.”

Michael beams. The kitchen lights up with his smile. “This went so much better than I anticipated,” he says, grinning ear-to-ear. He throws his arms around Calum and presses a kiss to his cheek. “You’re gonna be a great cat dad. I know you say you’re a dog person but that’s just because you’ve never had a cat before.”

“I was never a dog person at the exclusion of cats,” Calum says in his defense. “What are we gonna name them? Do you have any ideas? How many girls and boys are there? Also could you cut these carrots?”

Michael obligingly does as he’s told. “They’re all boys. And.” He chews his lip. “I wanted to see if you had any ideas first.”

The face Michael’s making indicates that he very much has an idea, and Calum has only known about the kittens for like ten minutes, if that — hardly long enough to come up with any solid name ideas. He gestures. “Nah, I want to hear yours.”

“You sure?”

“It’s just an idea, it’s not set in stone. I want to know.”

“Okay, well, I thought we could name them after the One Direction boys.” Michael grins. “You know. ‘Cause there’s five of them, and…” 

Calum laughs harder than he expects to. “Oh my fucking God we are absolutely doing that, yes. That’s incredible. That alone makes it all worth it. Who’s who? Liam and Louis are the white ones, right?”

“That’s what I was thinking!” Michael says, also laughing. “Then I thought the black one would be Harry, the grey one would be Niall — because he was always on the fence, remember, like a grey area? And then Zayn would be black and white.”

“I love it,” Calum says, snickering as he puts the last of the groceries in the fridge. “I fucking love it. It’s fantastic. And so fitting.”

“Thank you,” Michael says. “I was pretty proud of the idea.”

“Well,” Calum declares, grabbing the knife dangerously out of Michael’s grasp and pressing himself against Michael’s side to stand at the cutting board, “we are officially cat fathers, Mike. How does it feel?”

“Feels good, honestly,” Michael says. “I’m really glad you’re not cross.”

Calum gives Michael a smile. He can’t imagine being cross about something like this, not when it’s obviously making Michael the happiest man alive. The joy is radiating off him in waves. Far be it from Calum to stifle that. 

“You get the eternal privilege of dealing with the litter box once we get one, though,” he informs Michael, who just nods solemnly, like this was a responsibility he’d expected to take on. Calum grins and kisses his cheek. “You’re going to make a fantastic cat dad, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Michael says. “I’ll be the cool dad, and then you can be the dad who seems like he’s really strict but actually gives them treats when I’m not around.”

Calum just shakes his head, smiling fondly. He lets Michael chatter on about plans for where they’ll sleep and what kinds of toys to get them and which ones he suspects will be the most playful, and every second falls more in love with the idea of a lifetime of pets and shenanigans with Michael.

[lutrain2020]

Meet the Creator!

Introducing: Squido!

Commission:  I haven't and don't really intend to. I don't want to take anyone's hard-earned money. Just ask me to draw things and there's a good chance I will.

Social Media:  Tumblr: @sky-squido​ AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_squido/pseuds/sky_squido

Tell us a little bit about yourself!

Call me Squido! I love to draw and write but I'm also super extraverted and I love interacting with humans so always feel free to chat with me! Aside from drawing and writing, I just love being outside and have a tumblr sideblog dedicated exclusively to nature photos I take. I love mountains, the ocean, the sky, and just about everything else in this beautiful world of ours! If you ever feel like having an internet stranger give you a thousand word rant, ask me why my favorite color is blue and you will not be disappointed!

What got you into creating? what inspires you to keep creating?

I've been drawing for as long as I can remember and can't seem to stop, though I take long breaks sometimes I always seem to come back to it again. I try not to have anything in mind when I draw, but to start sketching and let the drawing happen. Sometimes I find that what I'm trying to draw is not what my drawing wants to be (if that makes any sense) and change what I'm making halfway through. It makes drawing a really relaxing and carefree therapeutic experience! Writing is different. I've always enjoyed writing, but I didn't write much and never shared my writing with anyone because I thought it was super pretentious. It wasn't until entering High School and joining the literature club and making a deal with a friend that we'd share our writing with each other that I actually gained any sort of confidence in my ability and sought to improve it. Being in that club and sharing my pieces at the open mics was a really encouraging experience! I invite everyone to share their writing, even if it's with some random internet stranger (I'm open anytime!) if they're unsure of their abilities. A little encouragement goes a long way! Now that I'm on Discord, ao3, and tumblr, I receive so much more feedback than I ever have before! It's been super encouraging! What inspires me most is definitely nature. Even if my ideas aren't directly related to the outdoors, I get my best ideas there. Fandoms are also a great idea generator. The sheer volume of headcanons and prompts is enough to make me dizzy with ideas!

What's your creative process like?

I love sketching. My favorite thing about drawing digitally is that I can sketch as much as I like and never worry about wasting materials! Often times my sketches turn themselves into drawings without permission and other times they stubbornly remain sketches for all eternity. I always dive right in because I have no patience and the idea I started out with generally isn't that great but in the process of pursuing it, it spirals out of control and sometimes the idea gets better and sometimes it gets worse but I just kinda roll with it. Creating is a really chill process for me and while I regularly scream stuff like "I'M DRAWING ON THE WRONG LAYER NONONONONONO" or "NO HECK FRICK SHOOT IT SMUDGED HECK HECK GET THE ERASER QUICK," the creative process is a great way for me to unwind. I'm the same way about writing. I never plan or outline and just kind of roll with things. I mean I generally have the basic jist in mind, but I try to not have a plan so I can keep the story driven by the characters and not force them into acting the way I wanted them to in the outline I made hours or even days ago. Creating is my opportunity to break free so I don't really see what good a plan or outline does me. I'm a pretty spontaneous person!

What kind of mediums do you like to use?

I like to take pictures, but it's not really my main focus. I've been mostly digitally drawing—I use my iPad Pro and Procreate—but lately I've been pencil sketching with just your average everyday mechanical pencil (I'd forgotten how nice the texture of paper was! Clearly I spent too much time drawing on my iPad!). I have these Stabilio chalk pastels I love to pieces, but have also spent a great deal of time with watercolors. Digital is my primary medium currently, though.

Is there a specific scene wrote that you are particularly proud of?

"Sky’s golden scales are glowing with reflected light from the sun while beneath them, the same pulsing blue in her mane runs like a river as her very skin is alive with electricity. The sun’s beginning to dip, fading through the color wheel from yellow to deep orange to scarlet and the world is bathed in watercolor and hue shifted through the rainbow until all that was blue becomes red. This new alien world begins to darken as red fades to deep purple-pink, the clouds catching last vestiges of gold in their pillowy folds, yet Sky continues rippling with lighting, the bright blue flowing like blood through her veins and the gold shimmering in the eerie azure glow. We weave through the winds and zephyrs and I close my eyes and let the breeze caress my hair and when I reopen them, I’m standing back on the ground again in a world long since darkened by night. I place my hand over my beating heart where Sky is still laughing with joy and smile because once you’ve awakened your dragon, you don’t need wings to fly anymore."

Is there someone who inspires you and your writing or art?

Every fanartist and fanfic writer that posts their stuff online is an inspiration to me. Even if their stuff isn't very good—especially if it isn't very good—it's a huge testament to the courage of the creator and their bravery in expressing themself! I sat on fanfic and fanart for years and never shared it and here were kids half my age putting out art that was their first experiment in a new medium and a little shaky but it was still out there and they were still being supported by the community and that really inspired me to reach out and stop lurking in fandom and actually get involved!

is there something that you struggled with that made you grow as a creator?

I feel like everyone has these periods where they were just gaining confidence in their artistic ability but suddenly everything they make is trash and they're not happy with any of it and they feel so down and worthless and "where did all of my hard-earned ability go? Will I ever get it back?" I think this is a pretty common experience and when I find myself there, I find it most helpful to share what I make anyway, even if I hate it, with someone who I know will give it to me straight because they'll point out the deeper problems—the root of the issue—that I hadn't even noticed and I can use that information to grow as an artist. Bad pieces are just as valuable as good ones. There was also a time where I had a lot of trouble developing a style. I did a lot of experimenting and never found anything I liked. What happened is I just kept drawing and whatever popped out eventually evolved into my style. I used to get frustrated that I couldn't draw anything without a reference, but after years and years of using references and drawing some of the same things over and over again, you won't need the references anymore. I mean, they're great and you should always feel free to use them, but over time, you won't need to look up a picture of every little thing you try to doodle.

What got you into writing or art?

My silly twitchy fingers can't ever seem to stop drawing! Same with writing. Words and ideas follow me around, little plot bunnies pestering me until they get written down somewhere. I was greatly inspired by the works of C.S. Lewis in my writing, especially his Cosmic Trilogy. My art style was aided by Hiromu Arakawa's Fullmetal Alchemist, which was a valuable stepping stone in developing my own style. Other than that, it was my own insatiable desire to MAKE THINGS that spurred me onwards. I don't think I could stop if I tried!

What's your favorite part of the creative process?

After you've got that first paragraph and you've found a flow and you've got a topic and you just GO. I get into the zone and the story starts happening on its own and I'm not an author anymore, I'm just a channel between the world of the piece and the page. That's my favorite. I love watching things take shape. I love shading a sketch for these same reasons. The whole drawing comes together and becomes A Thing and it's the most exciting time to be a creator. Something else inside you has taken over and you're just along for the ride. I have no idea if my experiences are common at all but this is what it's like for me!

What's your least favorite part of the creative process?

EDITING. I HAVE ZERO PATIENCE. THE THING IS DONE. WHY DO I HAVE TO KEEP LOOKING AT IT. CAN I POST IT YET. This leaves me with a lot of holes in what I make and I can't do a very clean, super detailed drawing unless it's for an art class and I'm forced to keep working on it. I have a terrible habit of never proofreading my things!

What's your favorite type of scene to write?

AAH hard question! I love writing description and places where I can really let my inner 19th century romantic be unleashed but I also love a good emotional moment between two characters. Something tense. I like fight scenes, but I try to keep them brief and interesting. Sometimes I find scenes where I have no idea what's going on and I try to avoid that, but it's really hard sometimes.

What's the hardest for you to create?

I have so much trouble with endings. I can generally figure something out, but there's always a moment of panic before the end like "heck I wrote everything I wanted how do I wrap this up????" That's probably a byproduct of me planning nothing XD I sometimes have trouble with characterization and making sure everyone acts the way they actually would. The hardest part is continuing after you have an "oh heck what do I do now" moment that breaks you out of your zone and all of your ideas and plot threads turn invisible or evaporate or go wherever it is they go when you're looking for them.

What's your favorite genre to write?

ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST. Wellll... scratch that. I love something adventure-y and plot driven with a lot of really meaningful character interactions. I've always had trouble putting my writing into genres, but I guess that kind of speaks for itself in a way.

What fandoms do you enjoy creating for?

Linked Universe is the fandom I have created and posted the most for by a LONG SHOT. I found LU shortly after making my tumblr and I joined the Discord shortly thereafter. Since then, it has been nonstop inspiration and creativity for me! I tend to get sucked into one fandom and it consumes me for a few months before I silently drift out of it and never think about it again. LU is the fandom I've been the most active in EVER though—and it's still going—so there's a good chance I'm never getting off this ride.

What's the work you are most proud of?

AAAAAAAAAAH MY BABIES. okay um here's the first and only fanfic I've ever posted anywhere but I'm really happy with: https://sky-squido.tumblr.com/post/618964544219463680/turn-back-time-a-linked-universe-fanfic I have a lot of other pieces kicking about, but they're not fandom so I haven't shared them yet. I probably will after I touch them up a bit.

Do you have any fics inspired by real life stories?

Not really? I don't really know where my ideas come from to be honest!

Where do you post your finished works?

my tumblr. I tag stuff #squido writes and #squido draws so you can find them easily. I also put them on the discord but they get lost in the stream of other works pretty quickly so stick to my tumblr. I also have an ao3 now! https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_squido

If you have any fun stories about the pieces you made, please do share!

Turn Back Time was actually live written in the Discord, but entirely unplanned and in the #angst channel! It was just a headcanon but then I started describing it and like 2 hours and 5k words later I'm sitting in the Discord like "what just happened??"