#and that is fine. because often you are describing a Different emotion or experience entirely and are just using not the best word you could

[cr0wc0rpse]

I don’t know but maybe being called a sociopath and mean things by multiple different people throughout my life because I expressed that I have kind of low empathy and then seeing posts online obsessed with using the word empathy when they likely do mean Kindness or Compassion etc but really staking their point on Empathy does make me feel a little batshit insane

[loveless-arobee]

Writing Loveless Characters

(Pt: Writing loveless characters)

Because I want to see more of them but non-loveless people often don’t have any idea where to start, or how to write them respectfully.

Loveless / heartless people are welcome to add their opinions! This is by no means a complete post, I'm just trying to give a starting point.

I’ll also discuss the decentering of love in stories a bit, even if there’s no explicitly loveless characters present. So if you’re interested in that, read on!

Definition

(Pt: Definition)

Let’s start with the simplest bit. What does it mean to be loveless (or heartless)?

Being loveless means not experiencing anything that could be described as love, feeling a disconnection from the entire concept of love, and/or it refers to the rejection of the idea that people need to experience love.

A lot of people who use the loveless/heartless labels are also neurodivergent and may feel a connection to this label because of that, but not all.

Being loveless can mean multiple things for one person, too. If you want to read more about the meaning of being loveless from a loveless person (me) you can read this post (link), or scroll a bit through the loveless aro and heartless aro tags.

What is love?

(Pt: What is love?)

Because we can’t go on without clearing up what this word actually means.

Love is just a label for an emotion. Nothing more. Love is not an action, actions are actions. Love is not a choice to care for some one, that is simply the choice to care for someone. This choice can be made completely without love, for example out of compassion, or because of a feeling of responsibility.

So, in short, "love" is just a label that a lot of people have decided to use for a specific emotion, and that label might not fit everyone.

Building a character

(Pt: Building a character)

For this, I can’t give a 100% conclusive answer, obviously, because all loveless people are different. Here’s just some things to keep in mind:

To respectfully write a loveless character, you should just throw out the idea that feeling love is necessary to be a good human, to care for other people or animals, or that not feeling love makes one immediately an asshole who doesn’t care for other people’s feelings.

Being loveless, in and off itself, says nothing about how a person acts. It only means that they don’t experience love (or any other part of the definitions above).

Things to avoid:

I can only think of two things you should definitely avoid doing, and that is connection lovelessness to being evil in any way, shape, or form. Also, avoid making your loveless character non-human if the rest of you cast is human (if all your characters are fantasy-races, that’s fine, probably just have a character, even just a minor one, of that same race who isn’t loveless, just to show that this isn’t a trait of this species that differentiates them from others, or make that very clear in the narrative.)

Yes, your loveless character can be evil, or morally complex, but you shouldn’t explain their villainy with them being loveless.

Yes, your loveless character can be emotionally distant, cold, or un-empathetic. Those words mostly describe me in some way. But again, you should decouple all of those things from being evil. Empathy doesn’t make a good human, and not experiencing empathy doesn’t make a bad person. Same with having shallow emotions.

But with all of this, you should still think about why you want to write them in this way. For example, do you want to write a loveless character with low empathy because you want to represent people like me, who are neurodivergent and don’t experience much empathy, and are also loveless? Or do you want to write them because those are things that make them more unlikable, or show their villainy?

Do you want them to experience shallow emotions to represent people who feel that way, or to explain away their lovelessness with "no normal person would feel this way"?

Do you want to write a loveless villain because it makes them more complex, and allows you to explore their emotions to a deeper level, or because you equate not feeling love with being evil and being evil with not feeling love?

Because there’s a very big difference, and your intentions matter a lot here, because the way you think about your character influences the way you write them.

Things I’d like to see / ideas to include

Besides "really, any loveless person who isn’t demonised" ofc.

- characters being open about not experiencing love, and not being judged or "fixed" for it.

- The narrative not treating lovelessness as a bad thing, and other characters just simply respecting their boundaries.

- A character with boundaries around the word love in general, doesn’t have to be loveless, and them being respected. Some people just don’t like hearing "I love you"s all the time.

- Just generally decentering love from the narrative (see more below)

- ND loveless people who fit the "bad stereotypes", turning them on their head (like me, hi.)

- not repeating respectability politics ("I might not feel love but I still care for people, I’m just like you!") This is not to say that loveless people don’t care for other people, just that it shouldn’t be shoe-horned in as a way of "showing that they’re still a good human being, despite not feeling love". They can just care for other people normally, without making it seem like something special or strange because they don’t feel love.

Questions to ask

To get a better understanding of your character:

- Why does this character identify as loveless, or could be identified as loveless? What does it mean to them, personally?

- How does being loveless affect their relationships?

- How does being loveless affect their view of the world, and other people?

- How important is their lovelessness to them? Is it something they’re proud of and show openly, or just something that’s a part of them that comes up when it gets important, but is otherwise just "background noise" for them?

- How do they feel about being the "target" of different kinds of love? Does love in general make them uncomfortable, just specific kinds, or do they not mind other people’s feelings towards them?

- Adding to the point above: Do the other characters respect their boundaries? If not, why? Does it add something important to the story?

That’s the most important points I can think of rn.

Decentering love

(Pt: decentering love)

Even if you don’t have a specific loveless character, this can still be done and often times make for some more interesting stories and characters that mostly haven’t been told before.

What do I mean by that?

Well, first off all, almost everything in most modern books is about love, contains love, or centers love in some way. There’s barely any new books coming out that don’t put the main characters in romantic relationships, even if they’re not in the romance genre, and if they don’t, these books are usually about the importance of platonic (or familial) love instead.

Im not saying these books shouldn’t exist. What I mean is that not everything has to center around love when there’s so many more emotions and experiences that could be written about, but instead we have millions of books that basically have the moral "You’re only worthy of humanity in the context of you relationships to other people, your only importance comes from finding people who love you / who you love, or character finds happiness through love (either their ~one true romantic love~ or platonic love)", because they obviously couldn’t learn to be happy with themselves, or that they didn’t need to center other people in their life constantly, or that they can be a complete and happy human on their own, too.

People can exist without basing their whole self worth on other people’s emotions towards them, and their emotions to other people.

To decenter love, you need to take the concepts, and ask "Why?" Why does this character need to be taught to accept themselves by falling in love? Why does this character need love to be happy, why can’t they just be happy as they are? Why should not loving make their life miserable, and why is the only way to fix it to find love, possibly even change themselves to finally be accepted by other people, instead of accepting themselves as they are, and finding community, if that’s important to them, as that?

You can even write about human connection without centering love, or about love without centering it, and portraying love as this universal, perfect good thing that makes us human and that everyone experiences. That is completely possible!

It can be just simply making sure that the narrative makes clear that this is these characters experience, and not a universal one. That there’s people who don’t feel this way. People who don’t love, don’t need love, and feel happy as they are, without relying on other people to make them happy.

Decentering love can also be about finding other ways to explore human connection. Relationship that are deep and emotional, but the characters don’t use the word love do define it; characters who are looking for community, for support, and giving community and support to others even if they don’t love them, maybe just because it’s the right thing to do, or because it’s the way they’d want to be treated, or because they have a deep seated care for humanity as a whole that they don’t describe as love.

There’s so many more emotions, so many more types of relationships, that deserve to be explored. Don’t limit yourself to just love and romance, or just (queer)platonic relationships as an aspec writer. You can write about sexual relationships, or about completely non-typical relationships that don’t really have a good term to describe them.

Write about relationships based on compassion, on sexual attraction, on mutual interest in the same topic, on what ever other emotion you can think off. I’ve once read a fantasy book where two off the main characters were different species, and mostly interested in each other to find out more about these species, and that was interesting; wonderfully written and it’d be awesome to have something that focussed on such an absolutely non-normative bond.

Don’t limit yourself to just "love", to just what society has put on a pedestal as the best and solely most important thing that connects everything and everyone. Think of all the other things that exist. Be creative.

Have fun creating!

(pt: Have fun creating!)

If you have any questions, feel free to ask me.

Thank you for reading this. Have a good day, and happy writing!

[some-pers0n]

Op what’s the ship you’re obsessed with? I’m curious now

These two idiots

Why? Short answer: their personalities reflect each other well and are really fun to watch interact

Long answer? Well... I guess you can read on

Engiemedic is something I still honestly struggle to describe. Funny considering the staggering amount of writing I've done in their name, but I suppose it's only natural to find it hard to define what you love.

I think one of the reasons they click well for me is that they're one in the same in many regards. I wouldn't say that they're "two halves of a whole", as both can exist and do fine without the other, but they flourish when together. They can properly be themselves.

They're two sides of the same coin in terms of presentation. Engie is more reserved and subtle about his nature and tries to keep up a good face. Medic doesn't care. Medic is brash and says exactly what he thinks, while Engie will oftentimes hide his emotions to try and win favour in a scenario. They're also obviously both scientists who study in fields that, while different, are very much similar. Something something...the flesh and the machine are not enemies but rather one in the same.

The enable each other, albeit in small ways at first. Medic influences Engie to get more in touch with his creative (i.e. maniacal mad scientist) side. He encourages him to indulge in every stray thought, whether it may be good or bad. Meanwhile, Engie gets Medic to lean more in-touch with his human side.

I don't think Medic has ever really been with another person, romantically or otherwise. Maybe that's just headcanons conflating with my thoughts (I like writing him as being a romance/sex-repulsed aroace)(cause projection ftw), but I never saw him as the type to get with anyone before Engie. Why would he? None of them understand him. Because he often comes off as rude, cold, and is generally pretty reclusive most people kept their distance. Good! He never cared for them either.

In Engie's case, I think he dated, but they never lasted long. Engie can't really keep up the facade of normalcy for too long. He's had boyfriends and girlfriends before, and while they were sweet, he never clicked with them. There was something fundamentally different about him that made them incompatible, despite being a pretty good boyfriend all things given. He never found a person who got him. Understood him, god complex and all.

It's why I think Medic and Engie work so well. I think them being together, doing experiments and whatnot, is what they love most. It's something they've craved. To be understood. To be seen, heard, and accepted. To be loved for who they are down to their very core.

I also just think they're fun lol. It's fun to watch these two pair up and do experiments. I love seeing them work on weird and wild projects, gossiping and chatting the entire time. I've mentioned before that I think they'd do parallel play sometimes, where they just work on separate projects.

I dunno. They click for me a lot more than, say, Heavymedic or Helmet Party. I think it's mainly due to how well they work with each other. They compliment one another perfectly. They're one in the same in many cases. They see each other as gods. Together, they create miracles. They defy the will of nature and physics. This spark, this feeling of innovation and creation, it is there when they work. When they share ideas. When they hole up in Medic's lab or Engie's shop for days, sustaining themselves on snacks, coffee, and beer, all to create some affront to mankind.

They make me think love is real. I don't know how else to describe it. I think of them and I think that, whatever they have, it is potent and strong. It's why I like the QPR angle a lot as well. It's something different. Something hard to define and unfathomable to a lot of people. Most look at them and see them as one thing or the other, but they themselves know the truth: they're partners, and by god do they love each other.

I dunno. I think every interpretation of them is valid and good, whether they be friends, romantic partners, or in a QPR. I just find myself gravitating towards the QPR one 'cause I think it's fun and, as previously mentioned, projection.

I just think they're great and perfectly flexible. You can make fluff, angst, humour, hurt/comfort, whump, etc and etc out of them so incredibly easily. I just also think they're cute and sweet and them holding hands makes me think that everything is going to be alright with the world.

There's a lot of nuances I could go on and on about, but honestly I think it's better to just glance over my silly goofy fics of them to get a better understanding of my perception of them. Speaking of which, man I need to get back to that...

[goombasa]

Writer's Block Sucks

So this is going to be an interesting experience, writing a blog post about writer's block while suffering from some level of writer's block, but hey, maybe it'll help.

I think one of the things I hate most about Writer's Block is the fact that it's a fairly nebulous descriptor. Yes, it basically describes the phenomenon where someone who writes, or wants to write, just cannot bring themselves to do so. But the cause(s) of said block can be… anything really. And it can last for any amount of time. I've had times where writer's block has lasted for only a few hours because I just couldn't find a decent adjective to describe whatever scene I was writing at the time, while some days I just sit down at my computer and nothing wants to spill out of my mind for no particular  reason, and then that state can continue onward for an untold amount of time. I think most writers have had at least one major stint of writer's block where you couldn't even look at your manuscript for, like, a month.

It can be even more aggressive too, lasting upwards of multiple months or even years, and there isn't really a catch-all cure for it, because the causes can be so different. Emotional states can kill your enthusiasm for a story, you can easily end up distracting yourself if you're the sort who suffers from AD(H)D or some forms of autism, and sometimes imposter syndrome will just take hold and not let go, preventing you from doing anything creative.

Sometimes the ideas just don't come. Sometimes they do, but you can't articulate them. Sometimes they're there, but you just don't have the energy. Not every form of writer's block is due to any verifiable external services. Sometimes you just don't feel it and sometimes life just sucks.

There's also the fact that writer's block can take other forms. The one that everyone's familiar with is the one where you just can't really write anything, you can't sit down and bang out anything at all. But I think one of the more insidious ones, one that I find myself suffering from more often, is one where I can write, but everything I write doesn't feel like it's my best. I've already had issues with cutting myself slack in the past, and so I'm prone to the idea of just tossing something out or stopping working on it entirely because I have trouble saying to myself, ‘eh, it's good enough.' For the longest time, it needs to be perfect the first go-round, and as you can imagine, that leads to a lot of wasted potential when I inevitably sit down to edit or revise a piece I've been working on, I get a decent amount into it, and then I just get frustrated because I have so much difficulty changing things that I know need to be changed.

Now, I can't offer solutions that work for everyone, as just like writing itself, I believe that everyone has their own way of going about it, but something that has helped me immensely, at least when it comes to that second sort of writer's block, is writing this blog. I don't know if y'all have noticed, but this blog and the posts I make aren't super deeply thought out, and their length and quality varies wildly from week to week, and the reason for that is because most of them are just stream-of-consciousness talking points about whatever topic happens to pique my interest that week. It's fast and loose and mostly going off of opinion (though I try my best not to state anything has a hard fact if I can help it unless I'm sure that it is; my last intention is to spread any sort of misinformation), and isn't meant to be any sort of deep statement on anything. It's basically just me doing what blogs were used for way back when, just sharing the odd, random thoughts that I have from week to week. The fact that it isn't anything that's really planned out or deeply researched, beyond the surface facts that I need when discussing certain things, I basically just sit down and bang out a post in an afternoon.

It's the furthest thing from fine writing you could imagine, but it is something that I wrote, from beginning to end, and while it's not amazing, it is something that I can take pride in. I get my thoughts down on paper, in a sloppy way, but I let it spill out onto the page, and it allows me to write. And that's what keeps me motivated. Because even if I have difficulty working on a more formal project that I have going at the time, the fact that I can still write something at all, I think, is an accomplishment. It keeps me from getting rusty, and keeps my creative juices flowing.

I can't say that this will help everyone who suffers from this, but my own way of treating it is… just to write. Writer's block, for me, often keeps me from working on specific things, usually my more serious attempts at storytelling, but just sitting down and banging out something quick and short, and non-committal, even if it isn't anything I plan on sharing with others or showing to anyone. My cure for my own writer's block is just to write, force out something small, keep myself in practice, and weirdly it works. It makes it so much easier to return to things that I consider to be much more in-depth projects and manuscripts. You can no doubt tell that this post is pretty scattered and doesn't have a lot of cohesion, and that's basically the point; it's a post meant to share thoughts and feelings and get something down on paper, keep my skills sharp, and hopefully start a conversation with those reading this.

And speaking of, I would love to hear what you all have to say. How do you deal with writer's block, and how often do you suffer from it? What sort of projects do you find it affecting the most? Let me know, I'm eager to hear more thoughts on this.

[its-ashehausen]

Why not!

1. Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi chapter fanfics? For me it depends. Sometimes I like to write just one-shots, get all my thoughts and shift into one lengthy chapter but sometimes I find myself being lazy and having the desire to separate sections. So I guess it depends on how I'm feeling, and the ship itself.

2. Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go? I definitely plan things out, or otherwise I'd get writer's block easily, since I hop from fanfic to fanfic.

3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic? I often have a playlist for that specific fanfic on spotify, and gather my plots/ideas and immediately start writing. However it usually takes me weeks, if not months, to get my chapter to the exact way that I want it.

4. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas? Playlists, Moodboards, Anime, C-Drama's, etc.)

5. Do you like constructive criticism? It depends, as long as you're not insulting my entire writing, I'm okay with it.

6. Do you have your work beta'd? How important is this to your process? No everything I write is 100% my writing, I tend to fix some of my mistakes that I catch while re-reading but not everything will be grammatically correct which I'm fine with.

7. How do you choose which POV to write for? I usually know which one I want to write for, prior to what happened in the chapter before

8. Do you prefer the beginning, the middle, or the end in a story? When I'm reading other people's works it's all about the development, storyline, and the characters. So it really depends, whilst for me when I'm writing something, sometimes I like to write the ending beforehand, so I know that's the goal, that even if I don't know what to write next, that ending will keep me invested into the story. However most of the time I like starting from the beginning.

9. Do you comment on the stories you read? Sometimes

10. Ctrl+f "blinks" on your WIP & copy and paste the first sentence/paragraph that comes up? I'm not on my chromebook so I won't be able to do that

11. Link your three favorite fics right now? I will once I'm finished with this xD

12. How does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you? I usually don't get that much feedback as it is, which is fine with me, however at times I do wonder if people are enjoying what I'm writing so far, and I do wish sometimes people would comment and give me advice for how to make my fics better for the readers

13. What's a common writing tip that you almost always follow? I always try to build a connection with the characters that I'm writing for, then let them all develop on their own pace.

14. How do you write emotional scenes? Do you ever feel what the characters feel? Do you draw from personal experiences? A mix of both, but having music in the background that fits that exact scene helps.

15. How do you write smut scenes? Do you get very visual or detailed? How important is it to be realistic? I rarely ever write smut, mainly because I'm asexual but I do enjoy reading it, if I were to write it, I wouldn't necessarily want it be very visualizing but I would try to get as detailing as I would like for the story.

16. How many fanfic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them? I have a few, but the one inside my head currently that I want to write once I finish some other Ulquihime fanfics is a fantasy/Enemies to Lovers fanfic with Ulquihime from two separate wealthy families, they immediately hated each other from the moment they've met, but unfortunately for the both of them they're tied in a forced marriage, but as they're forced to spend more time together they start to think differently of each other

17. What do you do when writing become difficult? (Maybe lack of inspiration or writer's block) I usually lay in bed and listen to music or take a shower to see if I get an idea for a fanfic

18. Do you title fanfics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come with titles? Songs or a title generator

19. What is the most used tag on your Ao3? Angst/Hurt And Comfort

20. Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/Expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc? I often use the same tropes in some of my fics

21. Would you ever collaborate with another writer for a story? I'm not sure given how it takes me months to update xD if I can improve on that, then maybe

22. Are their certain types of writing you won't do? (Style, Genre, POV, Tropes. Etc) The only thing that comes to mind is the throuple fics (I do enjoy reading fanfics with that trope especially with UlquiGrimmhime since they're my ot3, and amongst other ships,) but I personally don't see myself writing it, unless it's a love triangle plus I wouldn't know where to go about writing it.

23. Best writing advice for other writers? Don't worry about being perfect when you write, do what makes you happy, explore your characters and their dynamic at your own pace.

24. Worst writing advice someone gave you? When I finished my first Ulquihime fanfic I believe in Sophomore/Junior year, someone criticized me for my grammar and assumed that I wasn't good at English. Which English is my first language, with Chinese being the only language I'm really learning currently, it kind of made me feel disrespected and insecure about my writing for quite some time

25. What fic do you wish you got more responses on? I Get To Love You (Methan One-Shot)

26. Which of your fics would you consider your wildest pride? Tear Into My Soul (Fiend/Alexa/Braun Fanfic)

27. My favourite part of writing is going back to my favorite pairings and exploring their dynamics and imagining "what if" my least favorite part is getting writer's block

28. On average how much writing do you get done in a day? When I'm not taking breaks, I usually can get 1,800-2000 words a day depending how I'm feeling

29. What's your revision or editing process like? I skim through my writing and rephrase some of my wording and work on my punctuation to my best capability

30. Do you share rough drafts or wait until it's all polished? Sometimes I'll share a paragraph or two on here or Facebook but most of the time I'll wait until it's finished and perfect in my eyes

31. Do you start with the characters or the plot when you write? Both

32. Name three of your favourite fanfic writers? @perhapswhoknowsvamp @aerodaltonimperial @jkrobertson

33. Do you want to be published someday? Yes

34. Five years from now where do you see yourself as a writer? Hopefully getting better at my fics especially my Ulquihime one's

35. What is one essential thing to remember while writing a villain? Storytelling and how it'll impact the other characters they interact with

36. How do you write kissing scenes? I go based on both characters perspectives and how they feel about each other, and listen to music that I'd envision would be played in the background of the scene

37. How do you choose where to end a chapter? The classic leave a cliff hanger

38. Would you ever write commissions? Maybe

39. Share a snippet of a wip? N/A

40. If someone were to make a fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you like to see? Any of my Methan one-shot kiss scenes

41. Do you tend to re-read fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person? It depends but I often like to go back and re-read some fanfics especially Ulquihime one's

42. What's the last fic you read? Do you reccomend it? Crush by Isharaine on A03 which is an Ulquihime fic. I definitely recommend 😊

43. Do you take sadistic joy in whumping your characters or are you more the "if you hurt them, I'll kill everyone and then myself" kind of person? I've never once written whump, I think the only ship I could envision writing for whump is Kishigo but from Ichigo's POV maybe, but yes mostly I'm protective of the characters that I write for

44. What mistakes do you keep making no matter how many times your beta keeps correcting you? I don't have a beta

45. Do you want to break your readers heart or make them laugh? Both

46. How would you describe your style? (Character/Emotion/Action Driven?) I don't really have a style, I usually just go with the flow but most of my writing is on the Angsty side especially with my characters

47. How many times do you revise your fic/chapter before posting? I usually just skim through it and rewrite things but when I'm writing a chapter that I dislike, I often get rid of multiple paragraphs or the whole thing and rewrite it to the way I want and then I post it

48. What do you look for in a beta? Not looking for one

49. Do you ever get rude reviews? And how do you deal with them? I rarely get reviews at all, but if I get hate comments about something I usually either ignore them or I use it as motivation

50. How long is your longest fanfic? It would be my first Ulquihime fanfic that I wrote during Middle School to High School, which is a total of 24,197 words

51. What's your total of Ao3 word count? If I add every fic I've written so far and working on that's, 102,971

52. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I don't get much comments as I said but if I did I would respond

53. How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer? Or a perfect split 50/50 of both? Both

54. What's your favourite part about the fanfiction writing process? Probably already said this but evolving the characters development and dynamic with other characters and also exploring alternative universes with those characters from various shows or anime

55. Of the characters you write for which is your favourite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers reactions to certain ones? Ulquiorra and Nnoitra, they're the two most well written characters in Bleach in my personal opinion and I just love to write for them the most. Again as I said lol I haven't got much reviews, but I'm certain that some would agree with me

56. What's something about your that you pride yourself on? For me it's how my writing has evolved the last 7 years.

57. Do you prefer editing as you write, or waiting until it's finished? I like to edit as I write

58. What part of the writing process do you enjoy the most? (Brainstorming, outlining, writing, etc) My favorite parts are the Brainstorming for sure! I enjoy planning everything out weither if it's on sticky notes, on my wall or door lol, on my notes app on my phone or, on google docs on my chromebook. I also enjoy the writing part and editing

59. Does anyone in your personal life know you write fic? If not, would you tell anyone? Yes my mom, dad, boyfriend, friends, and amongst others do know

60. Had you ever had a writer that you admire comment on your fic? What was that like? Hasn't happened yet

61. Why do you continue writing fics? Because it's my passion

62. Thoughts on cliffhangers? I love to give my readers suspense so I enjoy them

63. Something you hate to see in smut? No storyline behind it

64. Something you love to see in smut? Details, storytelling and how it effects those characters and their relationship

65. Tell us about what you're most looking forward to writing - in your current project, or a future project? Definitely looking forward to writing interactions with Ulquiorra and Kisuke, I think it'll be fun :)

66. How do you deal with writing pressure (ie. Pressure to update, negative comments, deadline, etc) I usually ignore them or do it when I'm ready to.

67. Do you prefer prompts, and challenges or completely independent ideas? Independent ideas

68. What, if anything, do you do for inspiration? As I said to a question similar to this, I would create a playlist for ideas, watch some romance anime, make a mood board, watch Chinese dramas to see if I can get inspiration

69. What work of yours if any, are you the most embarrassed of? None

70. When asked, are you enthusiastic or embarrassed to tell people that you write? Mostly enthusiastic

71. When it comes to more compilcated narratives how do you keep track of outlines, characters, developments, timeline, etc? I have an app called story plotter, where if you're stuck with coming up a fanfic or stuck in the middle of it, you can create/figure out the plot, setting, problem, solution, characters, etc) it's a very useful tool for writing! It has helped me quite a few times

72. What order do you write in? Front book to back, chronological, favorite scenes, something else? I mostly do from order, other times I like to write my favourite scenes first.

73. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works? I'm not sure, my style of writing maybe?

74. You've wrote a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you've written it? I'm not sure lol, it's just something they would have to figure out 🤷‍♀️😅

75. What scene in [fanfic name] took you the longest to write? The current scene I'm working on Ulquihime: Drowned In Humanity *remake* where Ulquiorra asks Orihime about her brother

76. Did you have any ideas from [fanfic name] that didn't make the final cut? Nope

77. Do you have a favorite scene you've written from [fanfic name] story/chapter? Oh definitely! In my Nnoinel fanfic: I F*cking Hate You, the ending is my absolute favourite but unfortunately I can't share it until I'm officially done with the fanfic

And as promised, my three favorite fanfics!

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[xaracosmia]

ꕥ — WELCOME TO MARE COSMIA, WATARU HIBIKI. 🌗

ꕥ — OOC INFORMATION;

name / alias: ren age: 26 pronouns: he/she/they ooc contact: malleusdraconia on twt other characters in xc: dominique de sade

ꕥ — IC INFORMATION;

name: Wataru Hibiki age: 19 pronouns: he/she/they series: Ensemble Stars!! canon point: post The Blue Sea＊Sparkling True Atlantis

app triggers: child neglect, suicide, bullying, and mentions of death.

personality:

Wataru is, above everything else, a performer. It is not often that individuals come across the true face of the actor — receiving, instead, whatever he deems suitable to the mood, environment, and the people surrounding. Be it a loud fool or a careful and calculating monster; he is your very own Hibiki Wataru.

In the public’s eyes, Wataru carries himself as enigmatic and eccentric, drawing attention to himself openly and shamelessly. It is only when the curtains are drawn that it is revealed that is just one facet of the man; he grows weary, guarded, and cold when alone or around those he struggles to connect with, lacking understanding the world around him on a deeper, human level.

He is well-known for his prodigious talent in all aspects of performance — singing, dancing, acting. In fact, from a young age, he was likened to that of something non-human, something godly, because of his innate skill that exceeded those of his peers and adults alike. However, all of this only lends itself to the burden upon his shoulders: the othering he experiences from other human beings.

From childhood, due to being orphaned as a baby and adopted by an elderly couple, Wataru grew to believe that his place in someone’s life or the world entirely was intrinsically tied to his worth and what he offered; his ability to make others happy. This was quickly reinforced by his well-meaning family growing bored with him if he wasn’t performing, especially at a level far beyond typical child capacity. After all, what else are you a “performer” for?

As he grew and entered high school, Wataru adopted a demeanor that could be described as cold and detached, irritated when approached by others he concluded were naive and thoughtless. He was guarded, only opening up and showing his sillier traits once he felt truly understood. It is only because of a specific, treasured peer that Wataru learned to open up.

And despite the events having occurred to him, Wataru is, at heart, an empathetic and serving person; his fatal flaw being that he chases the thrill of “feeling alive.” So as long as he gets the experience he desires, anything is fine and he’ll make it all work out well. He can play the role of a monster or an angel or stay behind the scenes — it just has to be the perfect narrative!

In fact, frequently people seem to dismiss Wataru as a genius that lives within his own world, though this isn’t true entirely. The truth is Wataru is incredibly hyperaware of everyone around him and their moods, watching and waiting to be certain that if anyone leaves, it’ll be him. He’ll get bored first, he’ll jump ship first. But that’s just the half of it, because he has to be so perceptive to make anyone and everyone happy, naturally.

Wataru also struggles with judging others, suggesting that if they don’t have the ambition to persevere, then they may as well quit, though he really intends to say to do your best. This, alongside his habit of teasing everyone he meets (especially those he likes), leads people to think at times that his behavior is inherently malicious. That couldn’t be further from the truth; Wataru actually finds it difficult to experience intense emotions, let alone negative. He simply fails to understand the difference between prodigies and normal people.

Even so, there are parts of Wataru that aren’t exactly warm in truth, like his insistence to not bother remembering someone’s name if he doesn’t want to actually form a bond with them. Or the fact he can be snarky and callous, and he doesn’t hold back against anyone against him, playing all his cards to triumphantly and mercilessly win — as long as that’s what he wants.

And yet! The things he’s decided on are out of kindness, out of wanting everyone to have the most satisfying ending in this story called “life”! What a complicated man. Suppose you can catch him behind his 72 different masks?

something your muse struggles with:

Connecting with others, being open and allowing himself to be vulnerable. He can’t seem to properly engage with people. His personality leaves many bothered and uncomfortable with him, and there’s little he does to mitigate this issue — oftentimes saying hate is still another form of love, and only total indifference would be truly upsetting. It can seem like Wataru isn’t necessarily concerned with being liked, so much as he wants people to acknowledge he exists, even if it isn’t the best way to go about it. Really, he might just struggle with “being a person” most of all — it’s much easier to play a role than be genuine.

your muse's greatest strength:

Whatever he puts his mind to, he will achieve — be it a task or subject, so as long as Wataru wants to obtain that skill or information. He’s multi-talented and molds to whatever the situation is. If you need something, he can probably figure that out for you. And if that has anything to do with everything working out for everyone? Well, he’s a master at pulling some strings anyway. You may not like how it gets done, but it gets done!

history / background:

The Masked Fool, A Wandering Clown, by Wataru Hibiki.

ACT 1: PROLOGUE.

And so our story begins: with two very important people — an old man and an old woman who, by unknown circumstances, found a boy. Though they were getting up in their age, they still made the kind decision of taking the child in and raising him, giving him the name Wataru Hibiki.

For this, “Wataru Hibiki” was grateful, to the people who’d taken him in, to those around him. He loved them all, to the very core of him. And so, to return this favor, “Wataru Hibiki” learned a great many things — singing, dancing, performing. He did magic tricks, imitated voices, and so on. Everyone was overjoyed, praising his genius and talent openly, enthusiastically.

“Wataru Hibiki” was… entranced. He was happy, because everyone else was happy. So he continued to learn, neverending, refining his tricks and skills until they were mastered, then developing new ones, mastering them, so forth.

ACT 1: SCENE 1.

However, the sad thing is while “Wataru Hibiki” was a genius, a prodigy — everybody around him was not. The average, “normal” human being is bored quite easily. Human beings are greedy, cruel, and selfish. Once shown a single bit of something “good,” they desire more, more, more, at the expense of others. If you don’t continue to be “interesting” then you’re no good, they won’t care.

They’ll leave you.

The human sin of “yearning.” No matter how wonderful something is, when one views it over and over, it becomes nothing. “Wataru Hibiki” came to know that, and was terrified.

ACT 1: SCENE 2.

Even so, “Wataru Hibiki” wanted everyone to be happy. With all his effort, he continued to get better, and when one thing became old news, then he’d go to the next thing. Over and over again, repeating.

“Wataru Hibiki” was a genius. So naturally, he could handle something like that. More and more, he mastered even grander things, performed to even greater heights. Making people happy became his reason for living. He couldn’t have been suffering, it was a wonderful life!

Until…

ACT 1: SCENE 3.

(Dear reader, this is a comedy. So please laugh.)

One day, like always, “Wataru Hibiki” showed off something new he’d mastered — something so wonderful, something no one else in the world could ever imitate.

No one was delighted.

How mysterious. Even though he’d fulfilled all their desires, even though he’d gone past his limits as they wished! Everybody watched and complained, “It was so advanced, we couldn’t understand!” Regretfully, that day he’d learned a harsh lesson about happiness, humanity, and of his own self.

(There’s no reason to cry.)

ACT 2: SCENE 1.

Wataru was now disconnected from everyone and everything, slowly morphing into something else in the eyes of others — perhaps even in the mirror when he viewed his own self, but… if he was lucky, maybe he’d like the version of him in that reflection, and so will everyone else today. As long as they did, because, you see, being ignored is the worst feeling of all.

So he lived an extremely lonely life, without any human warmth, withdrawing, flying away, nearly losing his own humanity… until Eichi grabbed at him, desperately tethering him in this world.

Because he was like that, because Eichi enjoyed every single part of him, because Eichi gave him a thrilling scenario to be a part of.

ACT 2: SCENE 2.

Eichi Tenshouin, the Emperor of Yumenosaki Academy, one day appeared and took the entire school by storm — setting off a chain of spiraling reactions that caused friendships to crumble, people to jump off rooftops over their dreams being crushed, and a student microcosm to point their fingers at five special, talented individuals as the worst villains of all — The Five Eccentrics.

Wataru was now suddenly thrust into the arms of strangers who knew better than anyone what he felt. Eichi had, unknowingly, given him a gift. And though he’d watched his friends fall one by one in that war-ground, he knew they went down shielding their youngest.

No matter how much that good child begged, Wataru did the same, gracefully falling from the highest of heavens to the deepest pits of hell. Black always suited him best, and though their good little brother had tried to burn away his wishes at a happy ending for his beloved older brothers, Wataru memorized it all, wrote it down, and showed up, covered in the ashes of that dream, in the hospital room of his scripted enemy once more.

Together, they wrote up a new dream. Eichi had given him a feeling he’d never felt before, something like… a desire to keep living. Thus, he, too, grabbed at Eichi and made him live. They wrote the tale of the next great revolution and fell to it swiftly, and Wataru began to love his place beside Eichi and, even further, love the little princess and butler that came to join them.

A boy who wanted to die, and a boy who was like an immortal God; a man who would trade his soul to a demon he loved, and the demon who’d keep him for all eternity — even when they graduated, more and more stories kept spinning out; more friends kept coming into his life, more performances to put on. There was still so many more amazing things to learn and love and experience! He wouldn’t have this without Eichi!

So no matter where life takes him, Wataru will snuggle up to Eichi’s side and…

(The exciting part about some stories, reader, is that some of them are still being written…!)

powers / abilities:

Just your average human being? Apparently.

inherent abilities:

High Endurance/Strength: Compared to most people, Wataru has trained himself to have much more endurance than the average person, and he’s somehow able to jump from extreme heights and land on his legs perfectly fine. Besides, he’s an idol!

Prodigious Performance Skill: Song, dance, or theatre — you won’t find anyone better than your very own Hibiki Wataru! Not only is it just amazing, Wataru can go so far as to have others check and feel that his heart is no longer beating, for the sake of “truly performing” death — likewise, this extends to “(re)birth” where he speed-runs the mental concepts of being a baby, child, teenager, and young adult. His level of skill is remarked to be unsettling.

Disguise: Wataru can perfectly disguise himself as others, to the extent he can even dislocate his bones intentionally to achieve specific standards.

Vocal Mimicry: Once he’s heard a voice, he can perfectly mimic it. There’s no difference.

Magic Tricks: How could he be a magician without some tricks? He knows a lot of them, even some weirder and more confusing ones.

Hypnosis: He can hypnotize others, including himself. However, in regards to himself, only one person has the password required to bring him back. Regardless, it best works on simple-minded people. It isn’t real magic, after all, and Wataru will often reiterate he isn’t a real magician.

Moving Hair: Yeah, we don’t know why this is possible, but his hair can move like limbs. Most likely, he’s figured out a way to make it “look” like this?

Walking on Water: Wataru is… somehow able to walk on water for 15 meters.

Command over… birds: Wataru can apparently have stray birds attack people. He often treats birds as if he can actually understand them.

items / weapons:

Jeanne D’arc: Just one of his many trained doves.

Mask Collection: An assortment of Wataru’s favorite masks, though he no longer wears them as much… One is missing because it now belongs to someone else.

Instruments: Wataru managed to create a rather odd contraption of various instruments put together in order to play them all at the same time.

Life-size Dolls: He made life-sized completely accurate dolls of himself to “chase the bad weather away” — one is missing, because the same person who has the mask wanted it. It’s a long story. He keeps them around for tricks.

Exchange Diary: A diary that he exchanges with, you guessed it, the same person that has the mask and the doll.

“Emperor” Cutout: He needs this for magic tricks. Trust.

starting ability: n/a. starting item: Jeanne D’arc!

extra:

[yumenosaki third year voice] The War

i know he sounds ridiculous. he’s canonically traveled worlds before. and his weird talents are all things he taught himself to do. i call all of this “ensemble stars universe law,” aka akira writing whatever for going on 9 years straight

transjester assigned jester at birth his pronouns are whatever makes the joke land

autism be damned my idol can manipulate a narrative with his homoerotic partner

for canon point i’m going off the events irt the “latest development” i am not going to try and figure out which happened when right now because hashtag self-care the enstars timeline is messy

discord id: stageclown

[inkykeiji]

hope you don’t stop running to me, cause i’ll always be waiting

character: dabi | todoroki touya - raver!dabi

genre: extremely sentimental fluff + smut with a sprinkle of angst

notes: okay so essentially, this is raver!dabi, but like the piece isn't really focused around that. the piece is about this all encompassing, ravenous love the reader feels for him, and it really borders on unhealthy obsession; it's about how he's the happiest she ever sees him at raves, but it's bittersweet because he's so fucking high, and it kind of contrasts his love for raves and drugs with her love for him | title cred: cinema by benny benassi ft. skrillex and gary go

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, daddy kink, size difference, drugs, obsessive unhealthy relationship, extreme codependency, manipulation if u squint, minimal prep, a sprinkle of degradation

words: 6k

synopsis:

And he’s so fucking breathtaking—striking sapphires and stunning smile more spectacular than any piece of art you’ve ever seen, the combined melody of deep grunts and trembling groans rattling around behind his ribs better than any piece of music you’ve ever heard, endless words streaming from his swollen ruby lips lovelier than any piece of fine literature you’ve ever read.

He’s walking art, talking art, living, breathing, feeling art—and he’s all yours.

There’s nothing he loves more, no where he feels more at home, more at ease, more himself, than at a rave, you’re absolutely sure of it.

He sniffs them out like a hound, manages to find them no matter what city or country he’s in; loves them indiscriminately, regardless of how big or small they are; and drags you to each one he attends. Because he’s addicted to every single thing about them—irrevocably hooked on the pounding music that throbs like a beating heart, the marvelous colours that sear through the venue like vibrant flares of blood, the pretty pills and dazzling tabs and soft, soft powder—it all turns the party into a living entity, breathes life into the crowd, intoxicates him like nothing he’s ever felt before; and he’ll never be able to get enough of them, enough of how they make him feel, how they make him forget.

But he wants you there with him every time.

Sometimes, he’s hauling you into dingy basements full of wispy smoke and blaring speakers, staticky as they thrash out beats over a crowd, atmosphere saturated with sweat and the sickly sweet smell of hard candies. Others, he’s pulling you along on a lush field or cracked concrete tainted with brilliant flashes of crimson and violet, through thousands and thousands of people adorned in spiky fur and holographic latex until he finds the stage he’s looking for.

You don’t mind, though, unbothered by the pulsing music and the glistening crowds. You don’t mind, because this is your only chance to get these fleeting little glimpses of what true, pure happiness looks like on him—and you’re fucking addicted to it.

This weekend it happens to be a two-day-long EDM festival, set up far away from society in a large grassy meadow, embellished with wildflowers that dot the tangled jade strands with pops of pastel pinks and yellows and ivories—and it’s enchanting, whimsical, almost surreal in a sense. You can feel it, the atmosphere that drapes the masses of people scattered across the rolling hills, an energy unlike any other that envelops the patrons and lulls them into a state of soothing bliss.

He loves it. You love him.

And you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to accurately explain what the feeling of accompanying him to a rave is like; you don’t think the words even exist—the essence and aura, the feelings that swirl around in your chest, fuzzy and fluttery and fierce, transcending any and all languages. Because they’re something bigger, something better—they’re something higher, something stronger, something more than any word could ever describe.

No, there’s no way to define it, to portray it, nothing to encapsulate or summarize it, the genuine happiness that encompasses him, the way his pinched and stern features finally, finally relax, a special, gentle type of carefreeness seeping through the permanent mask of trepidation irrevocably sown into his strong face. It’s beautiful, mesmerizing to watch as they morph, the way his lips transform before your very eyes, from a firm, thin line into a loose, easygoing grin, sharp eyes liquefying as his lids droop a little, thin ring of sapphire outlining gaping onyx pupils, voracious in the way they observe, inhale, devour everything, blown and massive from whatever he’s high on—E or coke or acid; possibly a mixture of all three. You aren’t allowed to have any, of course, but it’s okay.

It’s okay, because as cheesy and stupid as it sounds, you’re high off of him—off his smell, spicy cinnamon and sweet campfire, laced with just a hint of Marlboros; off his taste, mint and smoke and sugar; off his touch, large hands caressing the natural curves and contours of your body, calloused fingertips rough and ragged as they drag across your soft flesh, skin pebbling with each graze.

It’s intoxicating, the way it invades your senses, overwhelms your receptors and has you yearning for more. It’s dumbfounding, the way your mind goes numb with him, infused with thoughts of DabiDabiDabi as he seeps and soaks and stitches himself into the tissues of your brain.

And you’ve never seen him more content than he is here, high out of his mind and entirely absorbed in the music, embraced in it like it’s a protective blanket, like it’s the arms of an old, treasured friend, like it’s home. Bitter acid creeps up your throat, blends with his saccharine spit ever-present and saturating your tongue, the thought that he’s only truly, genuinely, substantially happy when he’s high off his ass at a festival procuring a muted, blunt ache in the middle of your chest, dull blades that dig and burrow into your beating heart, shoved a little deeper with each bubble of laughter that escapes his lips.

Nevertheless, you can’t ever bring yourself to put an end to it, no matter how much it hurts him, hurts you both, because he looks so lovely, so elated—and you just can’t bear to take that from him, to take that from yourself.

Because he’s so fucking pretty like this, hair undone, careless and free as fluffy tufts of black bounce and sway with his movements, sticking to his temples and his neck—and he almost looks soft like this, strands of onyx hanging in his eyes and curling around his ears. Because happiness looks so good on him, so gorgeous on him, with those bright smiles that span his face, across his cheeks from ear to ear, and those stunning sapphire irises that glow with pleasure, contentment, bliss—and you wish, wish so desperately that you got to see it more often, that you had the chance to experience it without the drugs steadily coursing through his system, that they weren’t necessary, mandatory, in manufacturing these emotions.

But you’ll take what you can get. And he will, too—because you both love watching, both love feeling him this ecstatic, this relaxed, all his anguish and trauma forgotten, those chains that shackle him, that weigh him down and confine him, disintegrated by the synthetic emotions, burnt to ash just for a night or two.

And so, you aid, you help, you enable—because while you’ll take what you can get, you can’t ever get enough, either, eyes wide and unblinking as they place a pretty pink tablet stamped with a heart on his tongue, entranced by the way his lips close around your fingers and suck. And it’s so fucking hot, a rush of warmth flooding between your thighs and furling tightly in your belly. His eyes are shining as he stares at you, stuffed full of so much love it nearly hurts, and you want, you want, you want.

It isn’t long before drug induced euphoria is rushing through his veins and colliding with the constant, steady bass oozing from the speakers, vibrations travelling through the grassy earth beneath him until they reach his feet and flood his body. He tells you he can feel it in his chest, in his heart, in his very soul, seeping into his bloodstream like the sweetest poison, forcing a pleasant buzz through his limbs.

And it’s the best—it’s better than anything he’s ever felt, anything you’ve ever felt, hands roaming across bodies as music pours from the mammoth speakers, tracing soft lines and hard edges, fingers committing them to memory through touch alone; foreheads knocking together as he giggles into your mouth, as you suck his laughter from him and let it bloom in your chest, bright and buzzing and full of him, so full you feel as though you may burst; tongues dragging against one another as you both lick either side of a heart-shaped lollipop, sticky crimson candy sparkling in the waning sunlight, before he pushes his gum into your mouth, endless huffs of amusement spilling from one throat into another as you pass it back and forth—a game of sorts—smiling into the messy, slippery kisses, lips sliding and slurping and sucking.

Colourful beads embellish his arms, slender wrists and sculpted forearms peaking through the gaps, plastic droplets smacking together delicately with his movements. The brilliant colours are vibrant in contrast to his smooth skin, ivory tainted gold by the August sun, to later be painted by the lively splotches of aquamarine and lilac and lime and fuchsia as the lights dance through the night sky, spraying across the crowd.

His body glistens under the setting sun, varnished in a thin layer of sweat, gleaming droplets decorating his skin, catching in the beams and glittering like tiny diamonds. Strands of inky hair cling to his neck and white cotton hugs his torso, outlining the firm muscles of his back, the plains and contours that glide almost gracefully under scarred skin and soft fabric with each of his movements.

He’s a horrible dancer; truly, but he makes you giggle—which makes him giggle, large hands finding your waist and tugging you towards him, forehead bowed to yours again as he stares at you, cavernous pupils flitting from each of your features—your eyes, your cheeks, your mouth—with his lips slightly parted, as if he’s in awe. Tiny thumbs run over his clammy cheekbones, and his eyes close briefly with the motion, body swaying a little as he leans into you, further pressing his forehead into yours. His molars are grinding again, you can feel it, the rhythmic clenching and unclenching of his jaw under soft, tender palms, and you tsk softly.

“You need another lollipop, Daddy,” you tell him, and although you’re practically shouting over the music, it feels like your whispering, wisps of your adoring voice caressing his skin, curling around him and sopping into his flesh, warming him to the core of his soul. Little fingers are pressing into the hinges of his jaw as you speak, their gentle touch instantly diffusing the tension, and he nods.

The whine that catches in his throat when you pull away is one of the sweetest, most valuable sounds you’ve ever heard, and it makes your chest flutter, eyes flicking up to look at him through your lashes with a beaming smile. He’s still leaning towards you, slowly falling forward, a magnet drawn to magnetite, and you love it, you love it, you love it.  

“You look so fucking cute in your tutu, princess,” he’s chuckling as you root through your tiny bag for more candy. And you can tell he really means it, a dopey smile decorating his face, eyes shimmering with mirth, with drugs, with love.

A giggle slips past your lips, hands smooth down the tufts of tulle adorning your waist as you shyly murmur your thanks, his own smile growing. Lidded sapphires float around your body, slow and belated as they take inventory, words unhurried and sluggish as they tumble from his mouth.

“I-I should…Uh, I should put some sunscreen on my baby, sh-shouldn’t I? Don’t want your shoulders or that pretty face of yers to burn, y’know,”

You really don’t need to—the sun’s sunk halfway below the horizon by now—but you indulge him anyway, would never be able to deny him a fucking thing.

It’s fumbling, clumsy and messy in his inebriated state, but it’s still so cute, so considerate, so caring, rough hands slathering the thick cream across your skin, rubbing in awkward, blundering circles—and it sends sizzling sparks shooting through your bloodstream, alighting your entire body with a blaze that is so specifically him.

The sky turns from coral to navy all at once, and then you’re clasping onto him tightly, hugging your body to his as hands roam, as fingers tangle and tug and tow, as lips latch and lick. Salt mixes with his usual taste, tongue tingling with it as it laps at the dips of his collarbones. The sharp smell of sugar stings your nose, and you inhale deeply, face nuzzling against his damp neck. He smells sweet, like sunshine and burning hickory wood, like a summer breeze grazing freshly washed linen, carrying with it a sprinkle of cinnamon.

And you can’t stop, powerless to your urges and void of all control as you nibble at the column of his throat, as you suck the prettiest galaxies of violet and periwinkle into his flesh, as the tip of your tongue traces the jutting bones at the base of his neck, over and over and over again until they’re saturated in thick layers of your gleaming spit.

Because he’s fucking delicious, and it’s never enough—will never be enough, regardless of if you spend hours kissing, until your lungs are burning and your jaw is aching and your mouths and chins and cheeks are coated in each other’s sticky saliva.

Because you’re fucking greedy, needy, hungry, limitless in how much you desire, more and more and more.  

Because even when he’s pounding into you, it still isn’t ever enough. You want to consume him the way he consumes those pretty little tablets, want to breathe him in and hold him in your chest, in your heart, in your soul, forever. Not all of him, you promise, you swear, you’ll settle with just a piece—just a piece you can carry around everywhere with you, always. It’s the worst addiction you’ve ever suffered, it’s the sweetest heaven you’ve ever felt, it’s the only semblance of home you’ve ever known—you’ll keep chasing that high he gives you forever, keep chasing him as he chases drugs, and he doesn’t mind one bit.

And eventually, eventually it becomes too much to bear, just as it does every single night, this seething desire that roars and rumbles within you, rattling the cage of your ribs as it demands more. Eventually, it has you yanking on his arm, both hands clasped around one of his, shrill begs and pleads beginning to claw their way up your throat.

Strong hands manhandle you against him, a thick thigh slotting between your own, and you whimper, burying your face against his neck. With such a large crowd, and such thunderous music, and so many people higher than the clouds, no one can tell what you’re doing; no one can tell how naughty you’re being.

He knows exactly what you need, exactly what’s got you so restless, pressing his muscled thigh into your core and chuckling at the instant moan it procures.

“Daddy,” you mewl loudly against his ear, curled fingers giving another tug on his t-shirt, cunt already grinding steadily against his thigh. “I need you,”

He snickers, the sound vibrating against you, head tilting curiously and lips molding into a cocky smirk. “You need what, baby?”

And the whine that breaks in your chest is absolutely pathetic, bottom lip jutted out into a deep pout, grinding against his thigh becoming more erratic, more urgent. You hate that he’s gonna make you say it, face crumpled up in adorable irritation—his favourite expression on you, you’re sure, his smirk growing into a grin as a growl rumbles in your chest.

“Your cock,” shimmering eyes, glazed with want that reflects the flashing lights in their glassiness, stare up at him, blinking twice in enticement. “Please?”

He hums in thought as he pretends to think, to consider, as if his leg isn’t pressing further and further into your core as you aimlessly hump it, as if his cock isn’t already hard and pressed up against your hip and throbbing through his jeans, as if he isn’t grinding against you in infinitesimal motions, little gyrations of his hips that almost feel subconscious instead of intentional—as if he can’t help himself.

“Daddy!” you squeal, barely audible over the heavy bass, eyebrows scrunched in the way they always do when you don’t get what you want. “Now!”

Normally, if he wasn’t higher than the full moon hanging in the sky and flickering stars scattered in uneven clusters around it, such a bratty request would’ve earned you a hefty punishment—something that would’ve left your skin raw, cunt abused, and completely unsatisfied—because bad girls don’t get to cum, now, do they?

But tonight it only makes him laugh harder, cooing about how fucking cute you get when you’re all needy like this, like it’s the most endearing thing he’s ever witnessed, cobalt eyes shining with delight and adoration as he laces his fingers through yours, pulling you along behind him as he weaves in and out of the sea of bodies.

But the car’s too far, you’re whining as you trail behind him, a deep pout carved into your face, eyebrows knitted so firmly they weave creases into your forehead. I can’t wait, Daddy, I can’t wait!

And it’s true—you can’t wait any longer, you need him inside of you this very instant or you’ll fucking combust—a deprived addict vying for their favourite vice; a raving, ravenous fire that burns bright and blistering in the pit of your tummy, constantly starved for him.

It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, this intense, insatiable craving; one that has your thighs clenching so tightly it’s painful, that burns through your veins and scalds the insides of your stomach, that has your blood bubbling and nerves buzzing, whole body feeling electric in his presence.

It’s a gnawing urgency, one that tears at the pit of your belly and roars in your chest, filling your ribcage until it feels like it’s about to burst, until it has you choking on botched gasps of air and his name, nails digging into his hand as you tug on his arm, pleading, begging, needing.

It’s going to devour you from the inside out if you don’t get what you want soon, if it isn’t fed with what it wants soon, expletive filth spilling from your lips in frenzied little huffs as Dabi tries in vain to drag you to the car—please, Daddy, I feel like I’m gonna die, need your cock, Daddy, need it right now, right now, right now, fill me with your cum, Daddy, I’m so empty without it; warm me with your cum, Daddy, please, please, pretty please, I can’t wait!

Such sentiments, woven together between threads of high whines and broken gasps, evoke a dark snarl ripping through his chest, his true persona cutting through the manufactured euphoria for just a moment—and then you see him, you see your Daddy, you see your home, blazing in his glassy eyes as he whirls around on you and crashes his lips to yours, large hands splayed on either side of your face, nimble fingers gripping your head so tightly it hurts.

But the pressure is welcomed, little hands pawing at his thick belt again, pathetic and desirous, and the sheer force has you stumbling backwards, feet catching on your own ankles as the two of you tumble to the ground.

“You are such a fucking brat, y’know that?” he’s nearly moaning between kisses, lips never leaving yours as he spits the words into your mouth, hips snuggling into their favourite spot between your thighs.

“You love it,”

“A spoiled little bitch,”

“Y-Your fault,” you giggle into his mouth, a large palm colliding with your ass half a second later, knocking a yelp from your throat, a pitiful little squeak that he readily swallows down.

Calloused fingers twist in the lace of your panties and he yanks, holes materializing in the delicate fabric, lithe digits hooking through them and unceremoniously jerking the ruined remains down your thighs. It’s graceless, movements inept and cumbersome in his attempt to remove them from your body, stubbornly refusing to break your kiss, hovering body supported by one hand and his knees. The material finally snaps, fingers tearing through it, like fire blazing through intricate spider webs.  A whine catches in your throat and he laughs darkly, tongue lapping at your neck, your jaw, your mouth itself, drenching you in sugar-infused saliva.

Lips part immediately, eagerly, ready to greet his tongue with your own, and he huffs another chuckle into you, breath scorching as it floods the cavern of your mouth, and God, he’s got himself such a good girl, such a good slut, doesn’t he?

The words are mumbled out, slick lips gliding against yours, a little slurred and stuffed full of sticky spit as massive, rough hands run up your thighs, grabbing healthy handfuls of your flesh and squeezing.

A sharp gasp escapes from your throat, hips instinctively bucking against his from the sudden pain, and he laughs, deep and sinister and reverberating against his ribcage.  

You can feel the dull thud of the music in the distance, bass burrowing its way into your chest, pulsating beat slithering through the pliant earth and oozing up through the dirt against your back. Magnificent glows of azure and amethyst blanket the festival in their embrace, bleeding into one another before they morph into and emerald and magenta, haloing the grounds and all of its inhabitants.

But all of those colours, the almost ethereal beauty of the party itself, is nothing compared to the sapphire gazing down at you, the ivory skin that almost glows against the grass and the pines and the night sky, the fluffy onyx tufts your fingers tangle in.

Teeth sink into his plush, scarred bottom lip and you suck harshly, taking it into your mouth, the tip of your tongue toying with it, laving over the supple flesh and dousing it in your saliva. A snarl clatters around in his mouth as he pulls his lip from between yours, teeth scraping against it in the process.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” you’re chanting, muffled by his mouth, muddled by his tongue as it aggressively pushes against yours. “Need’a, need’a,”

The words snag in your throat, evaporating into ghosts of the sentences they were supposed to be, fading into pathetically breathy moans.

And it’s hard to think, when you’re like this, when you’re ensnared in him, consumed by his touch and smell and taste, tongue shoved so far down your throat you’re choking on it, brain gone numb—dumb—from it all, incapable of knitting together words and forming a sentence. Instead, your hand snakes between your bodies to cup his cock, a loud moan hitching in his chest as he immediately grinds against your touch.

“Want,” you mumble, groping at him and forcing a whimper from his chest. “Now, now, now,”

“So fucking needy,” he’s teasing, none of his usually heat to his voice, peppered with moans and the sweetest giggles as he rests his forehead against yours. Reaching down, two slender fingers prod your hole, giggles fading into groans as his eyes shut. “Soaked, huh?” he asks, voice strained, your head nodding almost ferociously in response. “Always drenched for me, aren’t you, my babygirl,”

But you’re too impatient to be properly prepped, to be thoroughly stretched out, impetuous legs kicking and squirming from underneath him, whining and pleading for him to just fuck you already!

They’re uncontainable, the words barreling past your lips, high and cracked and rapacious as you beg—beg for him to fill you up, to make you feel whole again, to stretch and shred and slash you to pieces, to put you back together, part by painstaking part, to complete you.

And he’s practically keening at the sentiments, hips rutting ungracefully against your soft palm, cock twitching through the denim of his jeans.

“Alright, baby, alright,” he’s hushing you, words slurred, heavy and unhurried despite his frantic actions. “Daddy’ll give you what’ya need,”

“Wanna ride,” you nearly wail, little fingers clawing desperately at his broad shoulders, fingertips sinking into his flesh through the thin cotton.

“Ch-Christ,” he nearly chokes on the curse, head nodding in choppy movements as he allows you to push the two of you over.

Because, well, baby gets what baby wants.

Or, at least, that’s what he’s telling you as you straddle him, lilt void of its normal derision, replaced with a kind of admiration.

Nails dig into the toned, smooth planes of his chest as you sink down on him, an involuntary hiss escaping gritted teeth, features scrunching in a cute wince. A hitched expletive escapes his throat, lidded eyes falling shut as his head lolls to the side, angular jaw on display.

The stretch is a welcome one, feels like home, so familiar it’s almost comforting, little cunt throbbing as you split yourself open on his cock.

Cool, refreshing air rushes into your lungs the moment he bottoms out, cockhead pressed snugly against your cervix, and that ache, that addiction, that animal tethered to the very core of your soul is immediately satiated, immense pressure deflating and the strain on your ribs easing up.

It feels perfect, feels right, feels whole, and suddenly, you’re alive again, intense sparks shocking your system as they sear through your veins, invigorated and revitalized.

It doesn’t last long though—it never does.

Because you’re just as famished, just as voracious, just as avid as that entity birthed from obsession and addiction inside of you, satisfied only for a moment before you need more.

It isn’t slow, isn’t sweet or soft, because neither of you can take that right now, neither of you need that right now. And the very moment he bottoms out, the minute you feel him nudging against your cervix, your hips begin to rock forward, rough hands finding their usual place on your hips, aiding you in your motions as he bucks up, falling into an instantaneous rhythm together

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he’s panting out, bleary eyes watching you as his words knot on his languid tongue. “Bounce on m’cock, princess, bounce on it,”

The earth is firm beneath your knees, but you can still feel those faint vibrations travelling though the dirt. Blades of grass tangle themselves in inky tufts as his head falls back, neck arching, jade strands in a sea of black.

He’s so much louder when he’s this high, deep guttural groans rumbling in his chest, broken whines catching in his throat, growled out curses tumbling from his saliva slicked lips. Drool leaks from the corners of his mouth, dribbling down his chin, and you long to lick it up.

“You always look so pretty, s-so perfect taking my cock,” he’s babbling, voice soaked in awe, pupils blown and shimmering as they gobble up your reactions, your expressions—every little sound emitted from your throat, ripped raw and wrecked from the column; every little twitch of your features, the way your lashes flutter and eyes roll back with each roll of his hips; every little shake and shiver and shudder, tiny jolts of electricity, of him, exploding through your veins—calloused hands sliding up and down your thighs in a clumsy caress. “F-Fuck, princess, so gorgeous,”

You should be quiet—really, you should both be quiet, fucking in an open field and committing such a heinous act of public indecency.

But you’re powerless to stop the mewls and cries from prying past your lips, and he’s hopeless to quell the steady stream of words flowing from his own, increasing in pitch and frequency with each gyrate forward, with each rut and rub and grind of your hips.

“Feel good, Da-Daddy?”

And he’ll never understand how you sound so fucking sweet, so fucking precious, as obscene words flow from those pretty lips, punched out of your chest with each rock of your hips, core of your body intimately skewered by him.

He doesn’t answer, can’t answer, words dissolving into a fractured moan as he nods vigorously.

“Want you to cum, D-Daddy—ah—fill me up, please,”

The grin that splits his face is nothing short of spectacular—it’s nothing like those sharp smiles he gives his enemies, or those smug little grins he gifts his friends, or those tiny lopsided smirks that grace his lips when he’s teasing. No, this smile—this smile is only for you; a gentle quirk of his lips, parted just enough to see those gleaming pearly teeth, fluid as it stretches and wobbles with his ragged pants and snapping hips. It’s almost overwhelming, the emotion pouring from that single, simple action alone, has your chest stuttering and eyes blurring, knowing that this is something special, that this is something that is yours and yours alone. And this smile—this smile is genuine, true happiness. This smile cuts through all of the drugs and anguish and rage, shining bright and beautiful as it beams up at you.

And he’s so fucking breathtaking—striking sapphires and stunning smile more spectacular than any piece of art you’ve ever seen, the combined melody of deep grunts and trembling groans rattling around behind his ribs better than any piece of music you’ve ever heard, endless words streaming from his swollen ruby lips lovelier than any piece of fine literature you’ve ever read.

He’s walking art, talking art, living, breathing, feeling art—and he’s all yours.

You’ll never get used to this, you swear to God. Such amazement will never cease, makes fucking him a religious experience every single time, always so astoundingly exquisite. You’ll never get used to the way those dark growls claw their way up his throat, vibrating in the column. You’ll never get used to the way your name sounds on his tongue when he’s just about to cum, all pitchy and broken and punctured by hitched breaths. You’ll never get used to the way his thick eyelashes flutter, unfocused eyes rolling in his skull just a little—never fully enough to hide that brilliant sapphire from you—right before he stuffs you full of hot sticky seed.

And you never want to.

—

This is your favourite part, has always been your favourite part, will always be your favourite part, every single time. It’s terribly selfish of you—you know it is, know it’s awful and greedy and so, so obsessive—but you love it, love it as much as he loves the drugs and the music and the ostentatious lights.

Because he clings to you when he’s coming down, nuzzles his face into your very touch, practically purrs out his admiration for you as you pat his damp face down with an old t-shirt, brushing back the stringy strands of sweat-drenched hair from his forehead.

Because you’re his protection when he’s coming down, swathing him in your love, in your gentle caresses and your tender venerations—his very own guardian angel, keeping him from plummeting into the concrete and shattering into a million pieces, cradling him in your soft wings as you ease his feet back onto this earth.

Usually it’s scary, he’s telling you that night in the backseat of his car, eyes still glazed, breathing slow and shallow. Or, it was. It was scary, coming down without you—but not anymore. Because you’re here now. You’re here with him, and you take such good care of him, and he loves you, he loves you so much, he loves you more than anything on this planet—or any others.

He used to feel nervous, he’s babbling on as tiny fingers press into tight, coiled muscles, rubbing the tension out of them in small circles. Used to have memories… he trails off then, and you don’t push, never push, just humming your acknowledgement softly, whispered affirmations falling from your lips as palms smooth over his cheeks before caressing his hair, pulling mewls from his throat as he arches into your touch.

Bleary sapphires stare up at you, glittering in the dim light flittering through his car windows from the flickering lamp posts. He’s tired, he tells you suddenly, face somber, sober, but he can’t sleep.

“I know,” you murmur, petting his hair again. “Just try to relax,”

He is trying, he promises, vigorously nodding up at you, eyes wide as if they’re imploring you to understand.

But words keep spilling from his mouth—involuntary, automatic, reflexive—unfocused eyes staring up at the roof, then darting around the car slowly, distractedly, like there’s a million other thoughts surging through his mind—you can see them, swimming in his eyes, tainted with paranoia, with fear, even though there’s a steady stream of presumably unrelated words flowing from his throat.

He talks about anything, everything, nothing—all at once. He tells you about the festival as if you weren’t there, and you let him ramble, unable to stifle the small smile that forms on your lips. Because it’s cute, and he’s still so excited. He tells you how pretty you look, tells you about how good you ride his cock, how irresistible your cunt is, how much he loves stuffing it with his cum.

And throughout it all you nod and hum and coo, just like you always do, just like you always will.

And it’s nights such as these, at four and five in the morning right before the sun begins to creep over the horizon, navy sky fading into a faint amber glow the only indication that it’s coming—that you are careless with your words, that you are more honest than ever before, because you know he won’t remember it—or, if he does, he won’t bring it up until he’s high like this again.

Because his being high provides this limbo, this purgatory for the both of you to be open and raw and vulnerable under the guise of drugs, with the knowledge that you can always backtrack, always claim not to remember or that you said no such thing, if you ever need to.

You don’t ever need to, but the option’s there nonetheless, like a buffer of sorts—a buffer for him to be raw and real, a buffer for you to be less cautious, to be more reckless and let the words stream from your lips without fear of consequence or punishment; a shield for both of you to use against such susceptibility.

It’s become an unspoken agreement between the two of you, a pass. And that’s what makes these nights the best.

And you will always consider yourself one of the lucky ones, one of the privileged few that are allowed, permitted, approved to experience him like this—to watch that well-worn mask of apathy melt from his face as drug-laced happiness bleeds and burns through it.

It hurts, sends sharp spears searing through your chest, embedding themselves in the depths of your fucking soul, because you can only imagine what true happiness would look like on him.

Maybe it would be too much, you want to trick yourself into believing, desperate to find excuses for the drugs and the artificial euphoria, to sanction this type of behaviour. Maybe he would be too beautiful, too bright, too brilliant if he were truly happy—maybe he would burn out too quickly, if he were too happy, like a shooting star that flies across the indigo sky, sparkling and sizzling and stark in it’s stunning, gorgeous and ethereal and much too short lived as it fizzles out into nothing, into darkness and emptiness, only a moment later—gone forever.

And you suppose, if that were to be the case, that you could selfishly accept this fate—if only to keep him here with you for just a little bit longer. You could help him shoulder the crushing weight of that torture, that agony, that suffering that he’s constantly carrying, spine straining under it, if it means that you get to be with him for more, for longer, for eternity. You could handle that, if it means you get to be greedy, if it means that you get to have him, on this earth, living and breathing and beside you.

Still, you hope, very much so, deep down at the bottom of your heart, that he will one day find that true, genuine, sincere happiness that he deserves—and that it will stick, not just for a moment, for a few fleeting seconds, but for a while, for forever.

He’s quiet when you tell him this. He probably won’t remember it come morning, too high to remember much of anything, but he’s so honest when he’s like this, fucked up out of his mind, and words leak from his lips without his permission as he tells you, grave and serious, that he has…in you.

And you suppose…You suppose he’s right; happiness isn’t exactly a person, or a place, or an object—happiness is a sentiment, an experience, a collection of memories, adventures, evocations.

“Happiness is...it’s when I’m with you,”

[genshin-impacted]

lost & found // Diluc x Reader (2/3)

Word Count: ~5.0k

Notes: GN!Reader, Seelie!Reader, Diluc/Reader, includes more Mondstadt people interaction such as Klee, Albedo, and Kaeya, see why I had to split it into 3 parts now

Summary: Despite being a seelie, you and Diluc are inseparable. You aren't sure what you are or why you are here, but you know for certain you want to be wherever Diluc is through every adventure and misadventure. (And throughout it all, you get closer and closer to him.)

Alternatively: The two of you lose and find each other over and over again.

[Part 1] [Part 3]

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You are satisfied with your life as a seelie, being Diluc’s partner in vigilante justice as the Darknight Hero (though when he goes out as the Darknight Hero, you’re usually hiding underneath his coat, all cozied up) and being able to spend your days by his side. Most days you are content without the answers to the questions of your origins or why you are different because Diluc accepts you for what you are regardless, as his radar for trouble and as his trusted companion.

It is only on the days where Diluc does not speak to you, burdened by the emotions of his past, withdrawing into himself at the familiarity of solitude, that you wish you are not what you are. There is very little you can offer in terms of comfort when compared to the warm arms and reassuring kisses of another person, but you make do with what you have.

You nuzzle into the crook of his neck in a semblance of a hug, and, though it takes a few tries to have Diluc understand what you were doing, your light touches to his forehead are the kisses you bestow upon him whenever his spirits are low.

“...Thank you,” he says to you when you lightly brush onto his temple, smiling when you twirl in the air, happy to have him receive your affections with full translation. He chuckles. “Would you like me to do the same for you?”

The squeaks of surprised embarrassment that follows make him laugh, and you imagine if you could speak, you wouldn’t be able to say anything of coherence with how equally flustered and pleased you feel. You don’t want to conflate any of his gestures, but you think that Diluc’s ability to tease you is a testament to how close you have gotten, even though his remarks make you feel giddy.

(If anyone else were in the vicinity they would think to themselves how rare that they see Master Diluc laughing so easily, though this is a thought that would not have crossed your mind considering this is a Diluc you have always seen. He is more youthful, less burdened, when he is near you. Is it because you are a seelie or is it because he is not bound by expectations when you have only known him for who he is?)

His ability to understand you and his unwavering trust in you despite your inability to do many things is something that you cherish. As such, you find ways to help Diluc wherever you can: temporarily swallowing small items to bring to him, being a literal light in the dark, and caring for his well-being wherever you can. The next time Kaeya drops by the tavern, stating something about treasure hoarders, a big expedition, and something about Dragonspine, he drops off a young girl about eight years old who introduces herself as Klee, and you find yourself in a new position as a babysitter.

And you are happy to glow, squeak, and fly in different shapes to make Klee laugh. You would be lying to yourself if her laughter didn’t make you happy, but it’s in addition to the fact that Diluc can finally rely on you. The grateful glances he keeps giving you over the shoulder when he caters to the tavern guests is invigorating. And if the tavern weren’t so well-lit, Klee would be able to see how you glow brighter in response to your emotions.

As perfect as Diluc may be (no, you are not biased), you find that you are surprisingly better at handling Klee. It’s not as though Diluc is completely helpless-- he responds to Klee’s questions just fine, speaking to her more as though she were an adult than a kid. You think Klee likes it for how she eagerly nods despite not understanding what Diluc is saying. It's just, for once, you may have an advantage because you are a seelie, and Klee absolutely adores you simply for existing. It’s a lot easier to entertain and play with her as a glowing ball of light than as a tavern-keeper, but you consider this a win anyways because you can finally help Diluc in a way that matters, considering the look of relief he shoots you when you’re able to distract her.

Your role as a babysitter goes well… until it doesn’t.

"It was nice playing with you, little seelie!" Klee chimes cheerfully. You coo at her, right up till the point she says, "Let's play another time, okay?"

Where are you going? You squeak, flying in front of Klee as she packs up her things. You nervously look at Diluc, hoping he can see you with how you flash your light like a siren, but his back is turned.

Klee only giggles. "Do you want to come with me too? Let's go!" She says, bounding out the door with terrifying timing when everyone's too distracted to stop her. You watch with growing horror as she runs with arms outstretched into the streets of Mondstadt, and you only have a split second to decide to follow after her before losing her completely. (In retrospect, perhaps it would have been better to tell Diluc, considering how little you could do as a seelie, but you forget that at times, especially in moments like these.)

You follow Klee, glancing around nervously for any roaming hilichurl or abyss mage. Miraculously, the two of you don't run into any enemies, though you did urge her to go around the path when you spot a few of them walking toward you. This is out of my pay grade, you think warily, and if you had a heart still, it would be beating rapidly with the self-contained panic every time you narrowly miss a confrontation with an unsavory crowd.

When Klee leads you into Dragonspine, which you now know to be a snowy terrain whose chill is cold enough to make you shiver, you want to cry. Where are you going? You want to ask, Why are we here? You watch as Klee picks a random direction to go in, and you can only follow her, twirling around sources of heat at every opportunity so that she knows where she can stay warm.

Having Diluc here would be nice, you think, as you float next to the orange seelie that radiates warmth much like a campfire. The fires Diluc would light easily if he were here, the warmth he would exude for how hot pyro users run... You think warily that you're going to make him worry again, having disappeared with Klee, but for some reason, you feel reassured that he'll find you again eventually.

It is many minutes traveling in Dragonspine when Klee puts a finger to her lip and asks you, "Do you think you can find my big brother?"

Here you are, following Klee this entire time, only to find out you are both lost. Next time, you think to yourself, as Klee describes her big brother Albedo and you quietly listen, no matter how Diluc looks at you, you don't think you can ever accept being a babysitter ever again.

(When you're attacked by hilichurls, you think of distracting them as Klee runs to safety, but then she throws literal explosives at them to defeat them soundly and you think that at least there is one less thing to worry about.)

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You let your instinct take the lead this time, as something within you pulls in a certain direction. Asides from the basic investigative skills (footsteps here, disturbed bush there), it is a miracle that you lead Klee to the encampment that Albedo had set up for his experiments in Dragonspine. It's not as though the path was particularly hard to traverse, but it did take some backtracking and maneuvering around Fatui camps (will Diluc end up fighting them looking for you, you wonder). You breathe a sigh of relief when you see Klee leap up to hug the blond, doe-eyed alchemist whose eyes widen at her arrival.

“Kl-Klee? How did you get here?” Albedo stammers, looking over her before landing on you. You simply twirl in the air in greeting, and the alchemist can only blink. (You never realize this, but this is one of the very rare moments Albedo is ever flustered-- courtesy of Klee.)

Klee goes on a long monologue about you as well as the adventure to get here, Albedo nodding in understanding ever so often, when you hear the crunch of snow behind you. Your mood lifts along with your body as you recognize the familiar tuft of red hair against the whitest of snow.

“There you are,” Diluc says, setting down his broadsword. He sounds out-of-breath, most likely weary from the fact the two of you disappeared and from the climb to get to Dragonspine. You glow immediately from his evident relief, and you race to him, nuzzling into his neck in an affectionate hug to which he immediately responds by brushing the back of his gloved hand onto you.

How did you find me again? You ask, easily sitting on the hand Diluc offers you.

“Kaeya told me that Albedo was in Dragonspine,” he explains. “Knowing Klee, this was the first place I thought to go to, and I know you wouldn’t let yourself split off from her.”

You nod sagely, though that line of thought would have made sense to anyone who generally knew Mondstadt geography. You look up at Diluc in confusion when he pets you.

“I would have found you anyway,” he says softly, “even if you weren’t together.” You feel yourself grow warm. “I’ll always find a way to find you.”

(Even in this snow? You wonder, even in this frigid wonderland? Through the driest of deserts and coldest of oceans? And you can imagine that if you had asked him this, he would have said ‘yes,’ though that was just what you hoped.)

You coo softly, flying up to gently press your face to his cheek in a gentle kiss, and the smile that Diluc gives you, you think, should be warm enough to melt even the snow on Dragonspine.

.

.

.

.

When the wind grows harsh in the changing of times, you find flowers of blue and white hidden amongst the fields of grass. And when Stormterror abandons his domain, you lead Diluc to a red, crystalline teardrop that neither of you can touch without protection. You thank the stars Diluc is not a man to shy away from danger, especially when it pertains to the safety of Mondstadt, because he follows you wherever you lead him-- finding teardrop after teardrop scattered across lands festered with monsters.

(“It’s a well-kept secret, despite the way he acts,” Diluc says, leaning on his propped-up arm by the fireplace. He huffs in laughter when you trill-- my lips are sealed!-- and the two of you would watch the embers slowly die out. )

It has become more and more evident as time goes on that you are more than you appear. Your small size and dedication to following Diluc are already indicative of your unique nature as a seelie. What makes you particularly distinct is your penchant to find things or people that many would consider strange. Even before you found these objects, being able to find the elusive Venti would be indicative enough. You don't know what was so strange of him besides his eternally youthful appearance and talent of disappearing into the wind (you thought that was just what people could do, okay?) until Diluc tells you of his godly origins one late night in the winery.

Your proclivity for the unique is something that does not go unnoticed by Albedo.

“I would greatly appreciate being able to tag along on your next journey. I’m very interested in seeing what you, as a seelie, can do,” Albedo tells you. When you meekly titter in Diluc’s direction, Albedo raises his hands reassuringly. “Ah. Don’t be nervous. It’s quite alright if you don’t lead us to anything. It’s all part of the process. Klee has told me much of what you can do, and I’m simply interested in learning more about you, as special as you are.”

Diluc looks to you, waiting for your response as you float in the air, pondering. You cock your head to the side, and he only shrugs, answering the nonverbal question you shoot at him.

“You’re the guide. It’s up to you,” he says, and that is all you need to look back at Albedo (who has been observing everything thus far with keen eyes) and bob yourself up and down in agreement.

“We can meet at Windrise in one week’s time,” Diluc says to Albedo.

Albedo nods, taking one last look at you before pushing himself off the tavern stool, ending the conversation until next week-- that is if Kaeya were not there.

“You aren’t planning to go on an adventure without me, are you?” He says, and Diluc can only sigh.

.

.

The week passes quickly and the four of you (Diluc reluctantly allowing Kaeya to accompany the three of you) meet up at the Statue of the Seven near Windrise. You prove yourself once again when you lead Diluc, Kaeya, and Albedo on an off-trail route to Daudapa Gorge. They all follow you, climbing up the cliffside, until you lead them to an unusual hilichurl of blue hair and a talisman on its mask. To keep with the consistency of your battle-filled wanderlust, the unusual hilichurl starts throwing items-- some of which you can recognize from your previous(?) life and some of which you’ve never even seen before. The barrage of things is incessant until fire, ice, and bursting flowers make him escape into his suitcase, leaving behind strange four-pointed stars that glimmer for a moment before disappearing, much to Albedo’s disappointment.

The silence that follows after the oddest encounter you have ever led Diluc to is deafening. You can’t even bear to turn your body to face Diluc who you know is looking at you with a (fondly) exasperated expression. “Trying to outdo yourself every week, aren’t you?” He asks, and if you could, you know that you would be blushing.

Kaeya makes it a point to make your embarrassment worse, as he often likes doing. (You know Kaeya shows his affection through teasing remarks, but oh, what you wouldn’t do to be able to retort back to him once without Diluc having to come to your rescue.) “Your mini seelie finds a lot of strange things, don’t they?” He says, giving you a cat-nipped smile when you bristle and squeak. “Maybe the seelie thinks you’re strange Diluc. Maybe that’s why it follows you around--”

“Shut up, Kaeya.”

“That’ll cost you, you know.”

You watch the two bicker back and forth in a manner that is now very familiar to you, not noticing the alchemist observing you in the background.

“I’d like to test something if that’s alright with you.” Albedo suddenly says to you. “Nothing painful,” he reassures you, even though you hadn’t said a word. “I’ll simply be asking you to do your best to find Master Diluc to test a theory of mine.”

Why Diluc? You wonder.

“Why me?” Diluc repeats your thoughts. “I didn’t realize we would still be under observation after this one journey.” You think Diluc sounds testy-- in a manner that is unlike whenever Kaeya drops by his tavern and more like when fire abyss mages show up on your path. You are alarmed, unsure why you feel the tension rise despite Albedo’s unbothered demeanor.

And while Diluc would never thank Kaeya for his quick wit and way with words, you definitely would, especially when he jumps into the conversation with an easy lilt to his voice to de-escalate the situation (for once). “A-ha, worried that your time with your precious companion is being encroached upon, Master Diluc?” He teases, “Or perhaps you’re afraid you’ll be separated from your precious seelie?”

“Kaeya--”

“Your relationship with your seelie is unique, just as your seelie and its abilities are unique,” Albedo interjects before Diluc could pull out his greatsword. “I’d like to qualitatively and quantitatively define them, if possible.”  He pauses, addressing you directly. “I thought this would prove fruitful for you as well if you were ever wondering what your... purpose is, as one might say.”

How rare it is to have an opportunity like this just fall into your metaphorical hands, you think. You are interested in knowing more about yourself. It wouldn’t change much about how you want to stay with Diluc, but there is a sense of peace knowing what you can and cannot do. In Albedo, you see a man of science through-and-through (even though he evidently defies the laws of transmutation you learned from a certain anime). He sees things for what they are, always addressing you when he wants to talk to you, and recognizing that you can speak for yourself. In some ways, he is no different from Diluc, who has never demanded you to be more than what you are as his companion.

If you decide to do something, Diluc respects your decision-- which is why he only watches you quietly as you croon in agreement. You glance over at Diluc to wait for his consent as well, and he can only sigh. (You don’t know it, but he cannot say ‘no’ to you.)

“I have one condition.” When Albedo nods, Diluc continues, “We do nothing to put them in danger. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” Albedo says immediately, and you almost miss what he says next, as distracted as you are by how Diluc comes closer to you almost protectively. “I’ll converse with you to let you know what you’ll be doing, but there should be no harm done to anyone during this experiment. How does the day after tomorrow sound?”

.

.

.

Diluc heads to Dragonspine without you, for what feels to be the first time in forever. Now that you think about it, has Diluc ever been separated from you the same way you have been separated from him? Even though you’re the seelie, he’s always the one finding you-- have you ever needed to find him?

You want to be able to find Diluc as flawlessly as Diluc can do for you. You want to know, and you especially want Diluc to know that you will always be able to return to him no matter what. Succeeding in this self-given trial of yours will provide definitive proof whether or not you can. With that thought in mind as you float up the slopes of Dragonspine, you think there’s a lot more at stake after all.

You titter nervously when you find Albedo in his camp, and when he spots you, he waves you over as he prepares for the journey with you. “I told your companion to get a headstart,” he says to you. “I won’t know where he’s gone either, so it’s a double-blind experiment. Feel free to use any way you see fit to find him and I’ll follow you.”

You nod dutifully, and when he does nothing else but follow your movement with his eyes, you realize that those were the only instructions you were given. Find Diluc, you think to yourself. Should you start to conjure an image of him in your mind to guide you? That was easy enough to do: half-lidded red eyes that soften when he sees you, red hair you’ve dazed off in more than once, black coat he’s used to shield you from the weather despite your immunity to it, and black boots that are worn to the heel when he follows you.

You are only a few steps away from the camp when you feel a growing panic, for no matter how much you think of Diluc, you don’t feel anything telling you where to go.

When you guide Diluc, even if it’s an impromptu journey, you feel a pull to go somewhere. You’ve once thought it to be your whims but after finding so many other things on purpose and having that same familiar pull, you know that it isn’t just your curiosity guiding you. You conjure up his image, you think of how much you want to find him, and still-- nothing.

How are you going to find him now?

You follow those footsteps, with not much else to go on, and you hope with all your might that perhaps these are the only signs you need to find him. When you reach a snowstorm, your heart falls, only to see that the heat source midst of the snowstorm has been activated. In a place with newly fallen snow and no fireplace, you see a tree with the snow shaken off from its lower branches, and that's when you realize that these are clues that Diluc has left for you.

You look frantically around, following the most likely path he would have taken out, and are met with crossroads. You're tempted to choose a random road and stick with it, but your random choices and the instincts you have been using this entire time are not the same. If you could, you would grunt in frustration, but it comes out as a high-pitched squeal instead (that Albedo takes note of just in case). How were you supposed to-- and then you see footsteps clear as day around the bend of rocks and realize it's Diluc’s.

Does he know, you wonder, that you do not know how to find him? Or did he leave these signs regardless just to make sure you do?

Diluc wants you to find him-- and you find it hard to explain why that means so much to you.

You follow the footsteps, the snow, the branches, and the flames with growing anticipation to see that bright tuft of hair amidst the whitest snow you've ever seen. You're led into an icy opening where heat sources have been activated, and it's hard to contain your excitement when you notice that all of them are activated. You're so close to him; you can feel it.

You rush to the center, hoping to see Diluc-- only to see a gaping chasm where the ice broke, and your heart freezes over.

"Ruin guards," Albedo murmurs, taking note the same time you do that there are various irreparable ruin guards within the hole. If Albedo says anything, if anyone else shows up afterward, you do not notice. The only thing in your mind was the worst-case scenario: Diluc might be hurt, and you didn't know how to find him.

You jet off into the chasm, flying from corner to corner to find him. Every time you see a gleam of red, you desperately hope it is him, but it's just shards of scarlet quartz Diluc must have broken to keep himself warm. Follow it, you think, follow the trail-- quickly!

The path leads to a waterfall where enemies are littered on the ground, including an ice lawachurl right in the river's path. Diluc, you think, following the line of arrows up the snowy hill. You fly up and up and up and as the footsteps fade and you grow colder, you think chillingly that if you were cold, then--

What would you do if he got hurt? What would you do if you could never find him ever again?

No! You think, no, no! Your barely contained composure breaks again with the rising panic. You zip forward, searching for the nearest heat source and praying (to Barbatos, perhaps, or any other god out there that Diluc has yet to tell you-- that he promised to tell you about) that Diluc is there. In the face of your great love for Diluc and the helplessness that comes with it, you have never felt so lost.

Overlooking a tree, you spot an orange seelie-- a heat seelie!-- and speed to it where it slowly looks in your direction. Can you please, you begin desperately, help me find someone? He must have come here before. Red hair, black clothes, big sword? You spot another looking your way and you ask it the same thing. You attract another and you repeat yourself again.

Please, you tell them, I need to find him.

Slowly but steadily, they all look in one direction, and you are off at once. (You forget to say thank-you; you're normally better than that, but you hope the seelies can forgive you just this once.) You fly as fast as you can, begging whoever is listening that the seelies did not mistake someone else for Diluc. And when you see Diluc at the campsite, you finally can breathe again.

Unharmed, his head in a towel to dry off his wet hair, Diluc is fine. You can barely believe what you’re seeing as you numbly float to him, checking him from head to toe for any injuries you can perceive. You don't feel as though you're doing that well of a job though, considering the only thing running through your head that he was safe and what would you have done if he wasn't--

Before you reach him Diluc turns his head to you like clockwork, as if he always knows when you are here. (There are those red eyes again, you think, and wonder if his affection for you will ever run out.)

“Ah, there you are,” he says, almost as frantically as you felt finding him. “I was about to go look for you since you weren't with Albedo." He gives you a smile when you slowly approach him. "I was worried," he says, "I--" He freezes in the middle of his sentence, eyes widening before slowly softening with every passing moment watching you. “Hey,” he says tenderly, raising his hands to cup you close to him. “It’s okay. I’m fine; I’m here.”

If Diluc ever doubted how much you cared for him, he does not have to look any further than the tears that drop down your translucent body, disappearing before they fall off of you. You don’t understand how you can cry, considering what you are (and the lack of tear ducts), but you do anyways, ears drooping as all your worries, concerns, and relief manifest into tears.

I’m so glad you’re okay! Your trills and squeaks are nothing more than hiccups in-between tears. I’m sorry I couldn’t find you earlier!

And Diluc does his best to wipe away the droplets that come from where your eyes would be as he continues to soothe you through them. “You found me,” he says, voice warm like the hands he holds you in. You don't have the strength in you to tell him otherwise when he repeats it to you again and makes you believe it. “You found me.”  

.

.

.

.

You spend the next half-hour or so with Sucrose who calms you down a great amount. Her genuine eagerness for alchemy combined with her shy, nervous demeanor is something that endears her to you quickly, especially when she is trying her best to make you feel better by rambling about her latest experiments.

With the worry for Diluc gone, you feel reaffirmed in your relationship with him. You are sad and will be for a while, that you do not have the talent to find Diluc whenever you can, but you are reassured by your determination to do so despite it.

Getting lost and being found again-- it seems as though that’s the cycle the two of you have started together.

“I apologize for causing you distress.” You perk up from your position above the alchemy table when Albedo walks back to you after a brief conversation with Diluc over the bubbling mechanisms on the table.

“Dragonspine is still an unpredictable terrain and I had not taken into consideration that there would be problems using this area as our testing ground,” Albedo says with a twinge of regret. You can understand him well enough to know that he truly did not intend for the day to be so emotional, so you squeak in response and fly in a loop. He looks relieved when you do, and you think for a brief moment that perhaps he isn’t so hard to read after all.

“Though the procedure was… unexpected, I hope you learned more about yourself as I have.” He waits as you eagerly nod in agreement, and you see him briefly hesitate. “...There’s a type of loneliness in being different. I’m sure you know this very well,” he says quietly as you float. “If you wish to learn more about what you are, feel free to visit any time. I will be happy to help.” The smile he gives you is partly fond as it is lonely, and you can only fly up to gently bump your head against his in response. “Until next time then,” he says with a tone of finality. “Perhaps when your companion isn’t so protective over you.” (Which is unlikely, Albedo thinks, but not impossible.)  

Until next time, you say, watching as Albedo walks away into the snowy terrain. You spot Diluc, hands crossed as always as he leans against the darkened bark in a manner that is so reminiscent of the first time you found him. You feel oddly nostalgic as he watches you intently. Then, you do a somersault, and, going full circle, he smiles at you.

“Let’s go home,” he says to you, and you follow him, just as you did in the very beginning when you found him.

(If there is anything that the two of you could conclude at the end of this, it is the confirmed knowledge that the two of you would go till the ends of Teyvat to find each other again.)

--

[temp taglist]

@thetwinkims @loveyoutothestars @ninqat @winterptilopsis @nya-vivi @just-noelle

[bri-notthecheese]

my thoughts on Iki Island:

(spoilers under the cut)

I really loved this DLC! I had nothing but high hopes for this after playing the base game last year (and three more times after that), and Sucker Punch didn’t disappoint. The whole time playing it I felt like it was only adding to my love of the characters and the stories they set up in the base game, and then all the new quests and mechanics added a lot of fresh fun on top of that! 

So where to even begin. 

The opening scene was super cool and a neat way to introduce the new shaman enemies. And despite Yuna only actually being in one scene, it was a delight to see her again. Though since I’m playing the DLC after finishing everything, I don't love the continuity of Yuna not accompanying him, but gameplay wise I knew that wasn’t going to happen anyway, but I just love when she’s with us <3

Went for my horse straight away and I was THRILLED to see that Kaze can now kill enemies and the new charge mechanic was way more fun than I was expecting and I was having too much fun with that. After Nobu, I didn’t expect to get attached the Kaze all that much (even if he continued on into a later game) but I was quickly proved wrong with this because I now kind of separate Nobu as the more gentler of the two, that was always there for me, and while Kaze is too, I like imagining Kaze is a lot younger and his aggressive personality in this really sold that and I like that it probably eases Jin’s worries a bit to see his new horse being able to fend off attacks a bit better. Plus, with his new armor, he’s even safer <3 Really fell more in love with Kaze in this, which I didn’t expect.

Met The Eagle next and had that whole encounter. I love how right away if you pay attention, you know Yuna isn’t Yuna because she’s never once addressed Jin as ‘my lord.’ I think the only time she said it was when she was talking to both him and Shimura at the lighthouse, and it wasn’t because she wanted to. But still, even knowing something was wrong, it’s cute that Jin’s mind went to her as a safe place who he’d have no problem entrusting stories and secrets to, which was obviously the Eagle’s goal. And hearing her voice warp into the Eagle’s was creepyyyy and so good <3  (my Yuna loving ass was sad to realize that was most likely the last time we’d see her, but that’s okay) That next part of the hallucination really got you feeling for Jin, and I couldn’t help but be frustrated that he’s only a child, how was he supposed to help?!?!? 

So I ignored Tenzo’s next mission and explored and pretty much completed the entire island. I got jump scared WAY too many times by her taunts, but I loved how that just added to the direness of the situation. I was obsessed with finding all the hallucinations and it just kept breaking my heart how Jin has all of this pent up guilt/heartache--with Ryuzo (he had so many I found), his father, his uncle, the Khan, Nobu :(, Masako, etc. I honestly had expected to find one regarding Taka and I’m a bit sad that I didn’t. Add those to the memories of his father and the ever-present taunting, I was going through it with Jin <3 At least you can pet the animals for him <3 The little smile he’d get every time was worth it. And the flute playing mechanic was really neat!

The first memory I got was their chat before Kazumasa’s death and honestly that got me all teary because Jin wanted so badly to hear him say he accepted him as his son, but deep down, would he have felt it? And my heart just breaks so much for Jin because as I kept going through the memories, I kept thinking how well 1) his dad sucks, but 2) both father figures kept wanting Jin to be somebody else. And it hurts that he was closer to Shimura’s way of thinking and how we even see that one time that Shimura corrects Jin, that his recitation of what honor means were his father’s words, and gets Jin to say that kindness is what honor means to him and wow. <3 <3 <3 But it hurts knowing their fate too <3 That while Shimura was more of a father to Jin than Kazumasa was, eventually, he couldn’t accept what Jin was doing in their way. Though it does hurt and make you wonder if Shimura was frightened that Jin was turning into his dad...I had that thought many times. (I loved seeing Adachi so much though omg <3 <3 <3) It was very interesting how the song Jin ends up playing for his father at the end of the memories is the ‘Jin Sakai’ theme. And then how that in turn, morphs into ‘The Way of the Ghost’ later on when in the final battle. 

It hurts that Jin had Chiyoko in his life for such a short time. I’m glad he did have Yuriko at least, but all of Jin’s memories on his mother and how she emphasized just living was so prominent, and her love of animals clearly passed to him and that gentleness too. And of instruments. Such softness, and I love that he retains that even as an adult. It makes sense that he doesn’t speak of his mother as often since he has far less experiences with her vs Kazumasa or Shimura, but it was nice to see her influence within him.  

Did this quest near the end of my exploration but I got the BIGGEST smile on my fave when I barged in the house to find the Ghost of Iki Island was Kenji <3 <3 <3 I love this dumbass so much and it was so nice to see a familiar face <3 Plus it let Jin have an actual full laugh when Kenji referred to them both as ‘tough guys’ XD His quests are always enjoyable for me and so I really loved that (though I was also Jin when he’s like “...you didn’t say goodbye.”) but I was happy to see him do the right thing at the end <3 THEN I got to duel the Viper because I diffused the situation instead and that was fun. Love that Jin explains his knowledge of negotiation was learned from all the years with Shimura <3 Also enjoyed spotting Kenji later in the Refuge XD

Really enjoyed all the side quests overall, loved all the animal sanctuaries, and the archery was a TON of fun! Getting the horse armor was neat, seeing Jin actively stop a Mythic retelling, though I was surprised there was no duel for that one. The one for the monkey armor was so creepy, following the lights in the cave, but so damn cinematic and that fight was incredible plus that amor is my new best friend. Seriously omg, the duels in this DLC felt so much beefier than the base game (I was playing on hard so that could be a reason, but the fights didn’t feel this tanky in the base) But that armor just made them a piece of cake if you’re good at perfect parries and perfect dodges <3 <3

Loved the banter and camaraderie between Jin and Tenzo throughout. And I really enjoyed Fune’s character as well! Did the next few story missions and I couldn’t help that sense of foreboding slipping in as I was getting more attached to these characters. Love that they had Kidafure Battlefield on the map but it isn’t till the mission that they tack on the ‘Village’, really hitting home what happened there. 

Maybe I should have been, but I did not see the twist with Tenzo coming at ALL! I physically gasped when he spoke the “May your death benefit all things” to that random Mongol and I was soooo tense, like Jin listen I know he was your dad but also Tenzo spared you. Which I love in the long run how he spared the Butcher’s child only to save him later in life, and Jin could save him and the island in return <3 Because ohhhhhh boy did I get emotional when Jin stopped the Eagle from landing that blow. 

But before that, HER FIGHT IS SO FUCKING COOOOOL!!!!!! SHE IS SO DAMN FAST AND SHE EASILY WIPED THE FLOOR WITH ME THE FIRST TWO TIMES. I also love her references to Khotan and that her moveset with the spear shares some similarities with him.  I tried once more in my Ghost armor (for fashion) and then I switched to the Sarugami armor and was flying through just to have that whole cutscene.

I know culture is different and obviously I can never understand that mindset, but to hear him say to Jin that they both should have died there broke my heart. What kind of a father wants his son’s death with him like that?!?!?!?! But I LOOOOOOVED ‘Honor and Ash’ playing in the background for that scene, as Jin is rejecting what his father may have thought/wanted (just like he did to Shimura with that track at the end of Act 2) and then it moved up a key just to reinforce that Jin is forgiving himself for this and letting go and again, forging his own path just as he did with his uncle. I loved that they used that piece for that pivotal moment...

...JUST TO KICK IT INTO AN EVEN HIGHER GEAR WITH JIN SAVING TENZO AND THE GHOST THEME BLARING IN WITH A KEY CHANGE TO THEN TRIUMPHANTLY FINISH OFF THE EAGLE!!!!! I WAS SO HYPED (and also hoping I wouldn’t die cuz how anti climactic would that have been?!?) but I didn’t and I really enjoyed the resolution between those two. I bowed to him after he bowed to me and I love that they even added dialogue for that if players do decide to do that <3 <3 <3 

The next quest with Fune was sweet, though it felt a little odd to do after defeating the Eagle, but it was sweet nonetheless. I have to finish up some trophy stuff, I guess there’s unseen quests that I’m sure I’ve done a few of, but I have to figure out what I missed. The dueling ring was fun, though that lady was the most difficult for me.

A few things of note:

-I like that in this DLC, you really can’t tell if it’s better to kill or spare Shimura. And how there are lines that could mean slightly different things to Jin depending on what he’s done. I’ve done both and I was on a file where he spared him, but besides a hallucination mentioning the Ghost being hunted for the rest of his days, nothing else pointed to one choice or the other.

-Though a line Jin said to Sugi threw me a bit when he said something along the lines of ‘you’ll never understand how hard it is to kill your family’ and maybe he was referencing his guilt for his father, but I’m like ?????? who else did you kill Jin??? Shimura is fine in this play through XD 

-Talking with her though, I like that Jin described himself as ‘someone who knows what it’s like to be hunted’ :((((((

-Tenzo also made reference to a friend of his being beheaded, but not finding the head till a week later, and asking Jin if he understands that and while the situation is different, I bet Jin’s mind went to Taka :( 

-Loved the subtle storytelling elements with Jin falling into his nightmares during the fight through the Gorge and his resolve disappears each time. The second time it happened, I verbally went “oh my resolve.....oh.”

-I do think Sucker Punch made a lil mistake though because I started thinking about how in Tale 8 of Masako’s quests, I’m almost certain she mentions Jin not understanding her need for revenge or something along those lines, and she talks about Shimura hunting down Kazamasu’s killer for weeks and how Jin had his closure. But uhhhhhh obviously his killer was never found? Or they killed the wrong one? And they didn’t mention it was on Iki Island and obviously didn’t have that foresight that they’d be doing this DLC since he was killed in the snow in the base game and now it was under a wisteria tree, but besides that small thing, I had no complaints! except for always wanting more Yuna

It was so great and I felt it really complemented the base game, especially in regards to everything that Jin feels guilty and responsible for, but also puts his relationship with Shimura is so many new lights that I loooove and I need to talk about more!!! If you read this far, feel free to hmu to chat about it because my best friend who played the base game at the same time I did and screamed with me about it has not played this yet and ahhhhh!!!!!!

[aspecpplarebeautiful]

I've had a really hard time figuring out if i'm aromantic. Like for my asexuality, it was easy- sex is an action and a thing, and you can want it or something like it with someone, so when I didn't want or like that the word "asexual" felt fitting and easy. But romance isn't a thing so much as a concept- everyone has completely different ideas on what makes romance romance, what romance looks like, which things are exclusive to romance, how you're supposed to feel- it's just described as "a fluttery feeling you'll know when you feel it." I tend to love my friends very strongly, some of them more strongly than usual, and I have no idea if I love them romantically or not. Sometimes I feel like I'm not really aromantic, but when I get into a relationship romantically, it feels all Odd. Less like i'm just chilling with someone and more like I have to BE something. I can't tell if that's my anxiety or if I'm just genuinely aromantic. It's so, so difficult to tell :(

Yeah, I think figuring out if you're aromantic can be particularly challenging, because yeah, exactly what you said, what even is romance? I have found it useful to look at romance as more of a social construct. Like that's not to say it's not real, gender is real, money is real, but a lot of how we view romance and say what is romantic and a lot of how we form relationships is determined by our society and culture.

The definition I like to use for romantic attraction is having an idea in your head of what is romantic (and this will vary a lot between different people), and wanting do those things or live out those scenarios with a specific person. Feeling a pull to want to be in a relationship defined as romantic with that person.

One thing I've always found really interesting is often you'll ask someone what romantic attraction feels like and they'll start describing scenarios. And I think this is why, for a lot of people romance is scenarios that they see as romantic.

Another big part of what makes an action or scenario romantic is simply intent. It's romantic if the people involved view it that way and define that way. And that's the difference between two friends going out for a late night supper and two people going for a late night romantic dinner date. Why two people can kiss on the lips because they're really happy and excited (say after winning a big sportsball game or winning money), and why for these two it's romance. Etc. It's all about how you view it.

So how to figure out if your feelings are romantic or not? I think it can help to try and look at it as a bit subjective. I think to a point romantic attraction is a little subjective. Does it feel romantic to you? Does it make you want to do romantic coded things, or be in a romantic relationship? How do you feel about you and the person you're with defining these things as romantic?

So don't think right or wrong, think what feels right to you. And there is no faking an aro label, if that's what you come to the conclusion feels the most right to you, then that's probably the right label for you. Even if you feel like that choice was a bit subjective.

There are labels for people who feel like their feelings fall somewhere between romantic and platonic, and that's something else you can look into too.

Quoiromantic is a bit umbrella term and popular with people who just aren't sure. And that's basically not understanding or disidentifying with the concept of romantic attraction at all. The Aromantic wiki has a great writeup on what quoiromantic means but basically anyone who feels like romantic attraction is inaccessible, non-applicable or non-sensical.

Platoniromantic: someone who can't distinguish between platonic and romantic feelings.

Idemromantic: Someone who categorizes relationships as platonic or romantic but experiences no internal differences.

There's also alterous attraction, which is a type of attraction that may have romantic and platonic elements, but isn't fully either. And someone who experiences this type of attraction may be fine with either a romantic or platonic relationship or want a relationship that defies labels entire, but mostly wants a strong emotional bond with the person they're attracted to.

So those are other labels you can consider too if any feel right or sound interesting to you.

So this is probably giving you more to think about rather than a lot of answers, but remember to trust yourself and your feelings. And go with what would be a useful way to define yourself.

All the best!

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

Oh my gosh so I also headcannon Jack as autistic! But im not comfortable with writing it yet because idk how. Im not autistic; my little sister is and i know a few things jack could have trouble with... but hes a grown ass man so i just dont know. Im definitely taking notes on what you write him as but could you give me some pointers?....maybe?

Im mostly referencing to Bitter with this

aaaa yeah it definitely presents differently in adults who've learned to mask, personally I don't plan to put certain things in specifically to talk about how he's autistic, I write with the background knowledge of what traits he displays, and then express them when relevant, it's relevant a lot with Jack simply due to how much it affects his life

now this is going to get long, so bare with me, because this is a whole lot more complicated than you might expect

there's really no one correct way to write Jack, since there's no one way that autism presents itself, the way I write him is based on a mix of myself and some people in my family, so I can give you a basic idea of what angle I personally come from

for one, I change the way I write about facial expressions and how emotions come across to Jack, in Jazz's chapters I'll write about the exact emotion she can see on their face, with Jack's I'll go with an obvious base emotion, but then if the person is expressing something more complicated, I'll describe their face in physical details

eg;

Jazz POV - Danny was upset, but his face was tight with frustration

Jack POV - Danny looked sad, but his eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth was set in a hard line

it's a subtle difference but it's one I try to maintain throughout Bitter, Jack's POV is based on how I have trouble reading non-obvious expressions, although in my case I also have trouble looking people in the face when I talk to them, that's harder to write in an emotion driven POV story, so I made Jack better at that than I am

his interest in machines is quite obvious, since he's an inventor, and he looooves infodumping on people, he gets very excited about his passions very quickly and his mouth runs off with him, something I also have trouble with, it hasn't been a prominent trait for Jack in Bitter, because he's so out of his element he's mostly confused and in a way, almost grieving his own death, so he's been far quieter than he usually is

his special interest is obviously ghosts and machinery, and in Bitter I cover that he's got a degree in engineering, physics and mathematics. He's good at them, I like to look at it as though Jack rolled high in intelligence and low in wisdom, he's book smart, he knows things that are straightforward and have firm rules, he's less comfortable in topics that are more wishy washy and vague, biology is complicated and has too many variables, he finds it difficult to grasp, there's no one standard rule that applies to every body

I also struggle with vague and unclear directions, I need a solid structure and clear instructions, my strength is in sorting, organising, alphabetising and colour coding, I like things to Look Right, I stick to a particular routine with very specific things, and it's viscerally uncomfortable and even distressing for me to have that order disturbed, I nearly had a meltdown at work because someone had done a part of my job incorrectly, and I had to fix it, it made me genuinely upset on a personal level, it was MY system, NOBODY should be touching it, NOBODY should be moving things around, they do anyway, and I spend a portion of my shifts just frustrated and on edge because of it

Jack also has issues socially, he often says or does things that other people find uncomfortable or embarrassing, I reference that in Bitter, where Jack assumes everyone is mad at him because he said or did something stupid, this I have much experience in, while in the middle of a social situation it's easy to just do what comes naturally to you and not realise it's off putting to other people, because people often play polite and you can't tell that they're uncomfortable, even though people around you find it painfully obvious

sometimes it's easy to see in hindsight after you've been told you made something awkward or uncomfortable, but in the moment if nobody says anything about it, you can remain either totally oblivious, or become anxious and second guess every interaction you have

Jack is the oblivious type, he's fortunate to live in a family that is fairly understanding, they might get frustrated with him, or embarrassed by him, but they don't really take it personally, they KNOW he means well, they know he cares, and Jack does care, he cares a lot, he feels things a lot, he's incredibly empathetic

this is a trait that a lot of media likes to ignore in depictions of autism, because I guess it makes people with autism seem 'too normal', when tv shows always want to be like 'hey wow look at this clever asshole! isn't he clever, but also an asshole! but you can't hate him because he's ✨autistic✨ and he can't help it'

that bothers me a lot, I mean some people with autism do have trouble relating and empathising with people, my brother is one of them, but some people with autism really empathise a lot, some of us feel things very strongly, I'm highly empathetic and it's a real struggle to cope with

so yeah, it is a very complicated thing, so you need to go in with an idea of what their character struggles with, how it affects them, and when it's relevant in the story, also autism falls on a very wide spectrum, some people, like myself, are able to mask well, but that creates a big issue with identity, when you start to wonder how much of you is real and how much of you is mask, then you have to decide if you want to lower that mask and accept the social consequences of expressing yourself naturally

I have a friend who presents a little more obviously, he's very rigid in his ways and he talks like he's reading from a script, I have another friend who can socialise just fine, but will go into a total meltdown when a plan gets derailed and she doesn't know what to do next

another friend I have is highly social and incredibly boisterous, she stims with her whole body, dances around a lot, she's chaotic and that can be off-putting to people, she's had to spend a lot of her life holding that back, she's only recently started learning how to be herself shamelessly

my brother was incredibly social when he was younger, and people always really loved him, but most of that is mask, he's socially anxious and just wants to be alone most of the time, and he's a total prick to his immediate family, I don't take that personally any more, since now I understand that he's so blunt and brutally honest because he isn't masking with us, but also he still needs to be called out when he oversteps, autism might be why he has difficulty empathising, but it's not an excuse to be a complete asshole, even people with autism need to be called out on shitty behaviour, it isn't a get out of jail free card, our self expression shouldn't come at the cost of hurting other people, most of us are more than capable of learning to not be an asshole

I know this is like, A LOT, but these are the things that need to be considered when writing about autism, it is an all encompassing thing that permeates your entire life experience, I absolutely welcome people like you to try to write about it! Because I think it shouldn't be a taboo subject, and I appreciate that you asked for advice and that you want to do it respectfully, you've probably seen first hand how difficult living with autism can be, having a family member on the spectrum, so you already have some experience to draw from, I don't know your relationship with your sister or how old she is, or where on the spectrum she falls, but if possible you can ask her about her experiences in particular situations that you're having trouble writing, if that's something you and she are comfortable with

I hope this helps, just remember to keep an open mind and listen to any feedback you might get, it is very VERY easy to misrepresent autism so don't be too hard on yourself if you don't quite get it right, if someone gives you a critique, take it in stride and use it to become better ~ you can even express that in an authors note, that you want to write it accurately and invite anyone with experience to share their opinion, because like I said, it is different for everyone and my experiences are not universal, and you're welcome to run something by me every once in a while if you aren't sure about it ❤️

[emerald-amidst-gold]

OC Questionnaire

Thank you @1000generations and @rosella-writes for the tags! I love things such as this that allow me to flesh out Fane more! :D

I’ll tag: @oxygenforthewicked @the-dreadful-canine @varric-tethras-editor @noire-pandora @blueheaded and anyone else that’d like to give it a go! :3

----

THE BASICS:

Character’s name: Fane Lavellan/Aterian (The second name is one he’s rarely called until later on. Mainly post-Trespasser by those in his contingent of agents.)

Role in story: The Inquisitor (highly derogatory)

Physical description: Short, messy snow white hair and eyes that hold two colors instead of one (emerald and gold). Bears the vallaslin of Sylaise (full-face). Relatively angular face and holds features that are more indicative to ancient elves than the ones of today. Overall height is 6′1 and is far more muscular in build than other elves, but still slender enough that he isn’t mistaken for a Qunari. Entire body is littered with patch-work scars and has a singular, long scar upon his left cheek (inflicted by Solas) 

Age: Appears 24 (approximately 5,000 years old in actuality)

MBTI/Enneagram Personality Type: INTP-T (Logician). Fane is very much like me in the fact that he’s extremely analytical. He’s always questioning and trying to piece together ‘why’ or ‘how’. Sadly, social skills are lacking for him, and he comes across as proud or insensitive due to how he words things or his lack of understanding when it regards to why someone might be put off by his views.

INTERNAL LIFE:

What is their greatest fear? 

To be forgotten/Himself

Inner motivation: 

Rebirth. Fane wants to see the world restored to what he remembers (i.e. before the Veil was erected), and he wishes for his kin to thrive once more, to belong to no master but themselves. The birth of Yune (the last of Fane’s specific kin) awakens the ideal of ‘hope’ in his heart and allows him to believe that what he strives for is possible.

Kryptonite: 

Pride and Wrath. Fane has a volatile temper that tends to get him into trouble, on and off the battlefield. He is prone to bouts of proud behavior due to the fact that he’s lived for so long and believes he knows what the ‘absolute’ in the world is. 

What is their misbelief about the world? 

That everything terrible that has happened to him or that he has done thus far since awakening/being awakened is his fault, his choice. At the beginning of my story and in regards to the world as a whole, Fane believes he knows exactly how each person is (personality, motivations, ideals, etc.), even though he has no idea who he is.

Lesson they need to learn: 

That his existence is not a sin. That whoever or whatever he is doesn’t matter. He’s alive and he is loved, he is important. Labels do not need to define him.

What is the best thing in their life? 

Family (Solas, Mhairi, Cyfrin, Yune, etc.)

What is the worst thing in their life? 

That he had to betray family to support family. Fane will do whatever it takes to ensure Solas is never alone again and that his kin can be remembered for what they truly are, but in order to do that he has to make decisions, choices and those decisions carry a lot of pain and heart break. He’ll endure, however. He’ll always endure.

What do they most often look down on people for? 

Ignorance and faith. The faith aspect is mainly people wholly relying on that which they can’t see rather than the strength and independent thought that they possess. Fane despises those who use faith as a tool to manipulate or those who are willfully blind to the cries of the world and the suffering.

What makes his/her/their heart feel alive?

Primarily, Solas awakens the hidden or muted sides of Fane. Solas represents ‘the sky’ to him, and just a glimpses into the other’s eyes can make Fane feel as if he’s able to fly again. Having someone understand and know him for more than his rage and bluntness also makes Fane feel more alive when he’s used to feeling grey. 

What makes them feel loved, and who was the last person to make them feel that way? 

Intimacy of presence. Fane feels most loved when those he cares for is content to merely be around him, words or no words. Solas is the one that does this the most often, the two of them having had to use this level of communication in the past due to Fane being a dragon unable to talk or link up mentally with anyone other than spirits. However, Cole, Mhairi and Cyfrin also utilize this means of communication. Solas is merely the one that offers it the most. 

Top three things they value most in life? 

Devotion, Independent thought, and Support.

EXTERNAL LIFE:

Is there an object they can’t bear to part with and why? 

A crimson sash adorned with golden embroidery of halla and leafless trees. It was a gift from Mhairi, and it was given to Fane shortly after their father disappeared and the experiments upon his body ceased. Fane wears it either around his waist or as a scarf. He’s usually not one to accept gifts, family or not, but he kept this one because it offered a lot of comfort where it had been lacking for several years. Fane also adores his sister with all his heart, and to see that she chanced potential capture to gather the materials...how could he spit in the face of such love? He couldn’t, and that’s why he keeps it even Post-Trespasser. He rarely wears it as he used to during that time, but he keeps it safe and pulls it out when he’s alone to remember simpler days.

Describe a typical outfit for them from top to bottom.

Fane gravitates towards clothing that’s loose and practical. He refuses to wear any of the clothing that Josephine or Vivienne might choose for him. To start, Fane wraps his entire upper body in Elvhen wraps to cover the myriad of scars that litter his body. The wraps are usually dark brown, dark green, or black. Next, he opts for cotton tunics, short sleeved or long sleeves, but he’ll have tendency to roll them up to his elbow, and once again, they are either dark or neutral colors (black, grey, etc.). Plain trousers, somewhat form fitting, and most importantly; boots. Fane does not go barefoot unless he’s getting ready for bed or bathing. He also wears a small dagger that he keeps strapped to an upper thigh. Just in case. *winks*

What names or nicknames has they been called throughout their life?

Fae (generally by Cyfrin or Mhairi), ma’isenatha (’my dragon’ and is typically used by Solas), Blackened One (this is the translation of Fane’s ‘second’ name and is used both respectfully/derogatory), He Who Flew Above (used by the Elvhen agents in both Fane and Solas’ respective contingents), White One (Abelas generally refers to Fane as this once he drops the Inquisitor title, Wisdom also calls Fane this), vhenan or ma vhenan.

And last, but definitely not least, ‘Papae’ *whistles innocently* :3 

What is their method of manipulation?

Fane has draconic abilities that can warp emotions. In a way, he implements a form of psychological warfare, but he only uses it as a last resort whether the enemy is a piece of absolute trash or not. Fane has had his mind broken multiple times, died from it once even, and unless given no other choice, he will not break another like that.

Describe their daily routine. 

Fane wakes up at the crack of dawn. He doesn’t like to, but he usually has no control over it due to years upon years of waking up from nightmares and retching. If he manages to awaken without many issues, Fane strides right into his routine of training, with or without eating. Training helps quell his mind of lingering terrors, and establishes discipline to emotions that are volatile. Afterwards, Fane may eat on his own, but generally, Mhairi, Cyfrin or Solas have to acquire something for him and press him to eat. He always relents, even if he glowers and growls. Cole takes a more subtle approach and just leaves it where Fane can easily smell it, awakening the want. 

Mid-day Fane is usually doing his rounds, checking on companions, maybe entertaining a conversation or request, or begrudgingly diving into Inquisition business. (paperwork, letters, etc.) If he’s having a rough day, headaches, mental exhaustion, or physical pain, then Fane is less likely to get much done and that’s because Solas will demand that he take it easy. In those cases, Fane will fight and protest and declare that he’s fine, but a single look that says, ‘Enough’, and he crumbles, taking the offering of a pillowed lap and potentially sleeping for at least half the afternoon. When he wakes up, Fane lingers in the rotunda and with attempt some form of work until evening.

That’s when Fane indulges in more personal pursuits. He whittles wood, reads and writes poetry, tinkers with one of his gauntlets or plating, and lets himself want. He’ll sometimes go to the tavern to see Varric or the Chargers, even if being around Bull makes him a tad uneasy. Or he’ll seek out his sister and see if she wishes to do something with him. Fane doesn’t ask, of course, but that’s because Mhairi bombards him the moment he appears and he accepts and agrees without fuss. Sometimes Fane will visit Leliana in the rookery and go over what she’s heard or what he’s hear, or he’ll spend time with Cole until Solas comes to see where he’s gone off to.

Their go-to cure for a bad day? 

Usually, training or just outright destroying something. Fane has issues controlling some of his emotions, rage most of all, and the only way to get that specific emotion out is to physically take it out. Solas and Mhairi have attempted to help Fane diffuse in different ways, but the only one that seems to work the best is for a dragon to rampage. Thankfully, Fane retreats from Skyhold if that he feels his mind blackening. Solas or Cole will follow and keep an eye on him from a distance, but Solas will intervene if he feels Fane is close to spiraling beyond anger. Then, the go-to is words, soft, but firm.

GOALS:

How are they dissatisfied with their life? 

Fane’s life Pre-Inquisition and within Inquisition is...rough. Life with the clan was torture for him, literally being called a mistake and monster due to how he acted and how he looked. No one understood why and neither did Fane beyond knowing his father’s abuse had...awoken something in him. That lack of understanding infuriated Fane, to the point where he chose to just...ignore it, turn his back. Add that to the burden placed upon his shoulders unwillingly, and once again being labeled as every manner of being except what would make him feel complete...yeah, Fane was highly dissatisfied with his life. It isn’t until he and Solas reconcile and vow to never be apart again that Fane starts to find purpose and the will to try in his life. That satisfaction only grows Pre-Trespasser once Fane uncovers a lot of answers concerning himself and his kin after going on a little field trip to a place that shall not be name while Solas attends to the Qunari.

What would bring them true happiness or contentment?

Simply put? Fane wants Solas to be able to rest. That would bring Fane so much joy, to see his sky finally throw down the mantle and rest. All he wants is for them both to be able to be together and not have the world demanding their lives on a silver platter every second of every hour.

What definitive step could they take to turn their dream into a reality? 

Support. That is one of Fane’s guiding principles when it comes to Solas and what the mage has deemed he has to do. Fane helps to keep Solas on the path, but he knows when to step in if the fog rolls in. Fane doesn’t see right or wrong; he sees paths, choices. He supports what Solas wishes to do because he understands why the man feels the way that he does. Fane is Devotion and Tenacity, and he will die again and again and again before leaving Solas to walk this dark path alone, without support. Because that, all on its own, can change a person’s mind.

How has their fear kept them from taking this action already? 

Fane is only fearful that his support could be causing Solas grief, making him upset due to the fact that the mage feels as if Fane should condemn him. However, Fane presses on and doesn’t let fear shackle him in this. Fear is potent in Fane, that’s the truth, but it all washes away when Solas requires him. Devotion is stronger than Fear, Tenacity grinds Terror into dust, and a dragon will always guard the sky it calls home. 

How do they feel they can accomplish their goal while still steering clear of the thing they are afraid of? 

So, Fane’s main fears are being forgotten and himself. The supporting aspect is to combat the being forgotten aspect, partially, but when in regards to himself... That’s a whole other story. Fane grapples with madness coutnless times in my story and the allure of power, something dragons cannot yearn for lest they cause irreversible harm to the world, and he is fearful that eventually...the clock will strike, the hourglass will run out and that he didn’t do enough. For Solas, for his kin, and for the world. Furthermore, Fane is terrified that that madness will eventually harm those he cares for, those he’s vowed to protect and support. So, Fane does whatever he can to keep his spirit from warping, to keep himself from breaking beyond what can be repaired, and having Yune and Solas, and seeing the progress of their endeavors helps keep Fane on the cliff he teeters on.

[my-bated-breath]

On an Immensely Popular Post

Disclaimer: What I’m writing here may not be completely accurate -- like most works of art, literature, and even STEM tend to be -- and as a new fan of ATLA, a few of the metas I publish may be obsolete or unintentionally insensitive. That being said, I like to believe that I can contribute something valuable to this fandom. In all my (real) metas, I wish to be as objective as possible and not rely on my biases, fanon, or common “knowledge” that may just be misconceptions. If anyone reading this finds something to be false or contrived, I am always welcome to constructive criticism. What I am not welcome to is senseless hate or bashing.

My first experiences with the ATLA fandom begun a long, long time ago, but the most recent and powerful revival of my love for ATLA started with me actually watching the show and soon after, with me falling into the endless abyss of ATLA metas on Tumblr. Sifting through the well-written analyses and the emotion-based rants had taught me a lot about critical thinking and the power of influence, so now I’d like to present a meta that critiques an extremely popular post with over 60,000 notes. And since it’s so popular, this is the part where I must make yet another disclaimer.

Disclaimer: I hold nothing against lesbians4sokka (whose name has now been changed to comradekatara). They have the right to share what they want, but since this particular post has become so influential that it’s still being reblogged regularly to this day, I believe it is within my right to criticize it - emphasis on “criticize,” which is different from “hate.”

Now that that’s out of the way, let us begin:

Lesbians4sokka/comradekatara covers 3 main subjects in their post, which I will quote/summarize below:

(1) Ma/iko: “...the entire foundation of mai and zuko’s relationship was built on how miserable they were together, and how they would just sit there and hate the world together— letting their misery fester as they enabled each other’s depression— and I think that’s really unfortunate because they would work so well as friends if they weren’t trying to make their dumpster fire of a relationship work.”

(2) Zutara: “similarly, what makes zuko and katara’s dynamic so compelling is that they share the same flaws, only as opposed to mai’s apathy and misery, it’s katara’s rage and guilt that zuko identifies with. they both share trauma over having lost their mothers, and both in a similar way (sacrificing themselves for them) and they both cope with their grief through rage, often misplaced… katara and zuko have a deep & profound friendship, but if they were to be in a relationship, they would only bring out the absolute worst in each other thru enabling each other’s rage and emotion-driven decision making.”

(3) Z/uk/ka: this pairing makes for a healthy and wholesome relationship because throughout the boiling rock, we see that “sokka and zuko make an excellent team, as they balance each other perfectly. sokka thinks big picture, and plans ahead, but zuko will charge into situations.” They inspire each other, they trust each other unconditionally, they become more open and supportive of each other, they share a lot of common interests and narrative parallels, and in general, just make each other happy (which could work both platonically and romantically).

As for my response: I’m sure many of you are expecting me to start to save the “best for last.” That assumption would be incorrect because I actually have the least to say about point 3.

I agree that Z/uk/ka can be a good relationship. Their dynamic is funny, playful, supportive, etc. etc. (there are so many positive adjectives I could use to describe their dynamic, the list could go on forever). And they could make a great couple.

…

What, did you expect more from me? That’s it, I’m done.

I’m not here to attack Z/uk/ka as a ship, because while I can never actively ship it (I’m a sad, narrow-minded exclusive shipper, always had been and always will be) I can objectively appreciate them as one. It’s points 1 and 2 I’m more concerned about.

Now, since we’ve already begun working backward, I’ll begin my critiques on point 2: I could write extensively about the parallels between Zuko and Katara, including but not limited to shared pain and a few shared flaws - and just a few, because their weaknesses diverge in many important places. However, since I’m trying to write as objectively as possible and since Zuko-Katara parallels have already been discussed to death, my analysis will focus elsewhere.

However, something from comradekatara’s post that I would first like to address is this-

[Zuko and Katara] both cope with their grief through rage, often misplaced. in the southern raiders, they both act deeply insensitively towards sokka by acting as if his grief over his mother’s death is somehow less valid simply because he is a lot quieter in his coping mechanisms and doesn’t project his rage & guilt onto everyone else.

- or rather, the idea that Zuko and Katara’s shared pain causes them to act insensitively towards Sokka (and though the post does not mention it, Aang as well).

(Note: these points have already been covered by countless metas before mine, so you can skip/skim this section to read a newer argument in the next section.)

Even ignoring the fact that the Southern Raiders had many out of character moments, Katara’s insensitivity towards Sokka is first and foremost a reaction against his insensitivity towards her.

_____

Dialogue from Season 3, Episode 16 “The Southern Raiders”:

Aang: Um ... and what exactly do you think this will accomplish?

Katara: [Shakes her head in dismay.] Ugh, I knew you wouldn't understand. [Begins to walk away.]

Aang: Wait! Stop! I do understand. You're feeling unbelievable pain and rage. How do you think I felt about the sandbenders when they stole Appa? How do you think I felt about the Fire Nation when I found out what happened to my people?

Zuko: She needs this, Aang. This is about getting closure and justice.

Aang: I don't think so. I think it's about getting revenge.

Katara: [Angrily.] Fine, maybe it is! Maybe that's what I need! Maybe that's what he deserves!

Aang: Katara, you sound like Jet.

Katara: It's not the same! Jet attacked the innocent. This man, he's a monster.

Sokka: Katara, she was my mother, too, but I think Aang might be right.

Katara: Then you didn't love her the way I did!

Sokka: [Hurt] Katara!

_____

While I believe that Aang’s principles of forgiveness are morally sound, the way he pushes his beliefs onto Katara undermines much of her grief. At first, Aang tries to relate to Katara’s experiences by comparing them to his own, but there is a forceful connotation to his dialogue that suggests that Aang considers himself to be the moral authority compared to Katara. Hence, Aang judges Katara (“I think it’s about getting revenge”) without trying to reach out and understand her, forgoing the empathetic common ground in favor of taking on the moral high ground.

Thus, when Sokka tells Katara, “she was my mother, too, but I think Aang might be right,” Sokka is not only saying that Katara should choose forgiveness, he is implying that Aang is the ultimate moral authority on this matter and that Katara should accept that. Moreover, similarly to Aang, Sokka’s opening line, “she was my mother, too,” had the potential to establish common ground between himself and Katara, but the added “but…” places Sokka on the moral high ground against her instead. Of course, when we remember that just two lines ago Aang equates Katara to Jet, Sokka agreeing with Aang seems even more thoughtless and unsympathetic.

So when Katara lashes out against Sokka, ostensibly “acting as if his grief over his mother’s death is somehow less valid simply because he is a lot quieter in his coping mechanisms and doesn’t project his rage & guilt onto everyone else,” it is important to note that Sokka undermines Katara’s louder, more visible way of grieving as well (though that discounts that for most of the show, Katara only uses her grief over her mother’s death to sympathize with others).

Moreover, Katara’s line, “then you didn't love her the way I did!” is hurtful, yes, but it is not necessarily equivalent to “you didn’t love her as much as I did.” Katara’s love for her mother is different from Sokka’s because her pain over her death is different -- after Kya’s passing, Katara had to carry the emotional burden of becoming a pseudo-mother to Sokka (see Sokka and Toph’s conversation in “The Runaway”), a burden that did not cease after she joined the GAang (see the entirety of “The Desert”). To Katara, Kya was not only her mother, but the representation of the childhood she lost and the sacrifice made to protect her life. Sokka simply does not have that same relationship with Kya.

I do not mean to say that Sokka and Aang unfairly taking on the moral authority in this situation means that this authority instead belongs to Katara (and Zuko) - “The Southern Raiders” is filled with questionable moments from all parties involved. However, TSR is an episode that delves into Katara (and Zuko)’s relationship with a mother’s sacrifice, so how Zuko and Katara respond to this specific trauma from their past does not dictate how they respond to painful circumstances in the present/future. Let’s see how this is true.

Sozin’s Comet, Part 1: The Phoenix King

No doubt Zuko and Katara felt some form of frustration upon Aang’s disappearance, so let’s see how they “[enabled] each other’s rage and emotion-driven decision making”:

Here, Katara and Zuko make a decision together that turns out to be calm, rational, and not at all emotionally-driven despite their mutual frustration and worry towards Aang.

Sozin’s Comet, Part 2: The Old Masters

Zuko holds immense pain and self-loathing over betraying Iroh, yet Zuko and Katara’s conversation does not enable/exacerbate negativity from any party involved (since Zuko often translates his grief into anger, and Katara was evidently angry at Zuko’s betrayal). Instead, their conversation is open, encouraging, and constructive.

(Note: this is where the review of points made by previous metas ends.)

Hence, to say that “[Zuko and Katara] would only bring out the absolute worst in each other [through] enabling each other’s rage and emotion-driven decision making” -  when we are given in-canon examples of the opposite being true - would be a sweeping and inaccurate generalization.

But for the sake of argument let’s say that, hypothetically, Zuko and Katara’s relationship would fail because they only bring out the worst in each other. And here’s where the argument falls apart for me - Is the argument here that Zuko and Katara have an incredibly meaningful friendship yet somehow this “friendship” causes them to enable each other, thus encouraging each other’s worst flaws and regressing each other’s growth? Is a healthy friendship - much less a “deep and profound” one - not one where two individuals can learn from each other in positive ways and balance each other’s shortcomings?

Or is it something different we’re saying here? Are we saying that two individuals can have a “deep and profound” friendship and yet the moment their relationship shifts from platonic to romantic, they are terrible for each other?

While many significant platonic bonds are stunted when they become romantic, I still believe it to be common sense that some of the best romantic relationships stem from a platonic foundation. But since much of “common sense” on the internet sees that “sense” is nonsensical and “common” is a nicer way to refer to mob mentality, I have done my research to show how Zuko and Katara could have been an excellent case of a friends-to-lovers relationship.

An excerpt from my meta, “Research Shows that Zutara Would Have Been the Ideal Friends to Lovers Dynamic.” (give it a read if you want to see references to relationship-research and an overanalysis on diction/tone)

The reason why Zutara is framed as a “toxic and unhealthy” relationship is that their romance would be a classic example of the enemies-to-lovers trope, a trope which modern media has not been particularly kind to. However, when executed correctly, enemies-to-lovers can produce a healthy and loving relationship, frequently relying on friendship as an intermediate between the “enemy” and “lover” stages in the most well-executed versions of this trope. Meanwhile, the trope of friends-to-lovers is just as popular as enemies-to-lovers, though the specific dynamic required between two individuals to achieve this transition is not well-known. Recognizing this, Laura K. Guerrero and Paul A. Mongeau, both of whom are involved in relationship-related research as professors at Arizona State University, wrote a research paper on how friendships may transition into romantic relationships…

According to Guerrero and Mongeau, “...scholars have argued that intimacy is located in different types of interactions, ranging from sexual activity and physical contact to warm, cozy interactions that can occur between friends, family members, and lovers…” Guerrero and Mongeau then reference a relationship model where the initial stages (i.e. perceiving similarities, achieving rapport, and inducing self-disclosure) reflect platonic/romantic intimacy through communication while the latter stages (i.e. role-taking, achieving interpersonal role fit, and achieving dyadic crystallization) often see both individuals as achieving a higher level of intimacy that involves more self-awareness.

In the rest of my research-based meta I demonstrate how Zuko and Katara’s platonic interactions in the show fit into the stages of communicative intimacy (i.e. perceiving similarities, achieving rapport, and inducing self-disclosure) that Guerrero and Mongeau describe as being mutual between friendships and romances. As such, crossing the line between friends and more-than-friends most likely would not cause a dramatic shift in the Zutara dynamic since much of Zuko and Katara’s platonic intimacy easily translates into romantic intimacy. I’ll end off with another excerpt from my meta.

Excerpt from “Research Shows that Zutara Would Have Been the Ideal Friends to Lovers Dynamic.”

“...it would be remiss to simply dismiss the Zutara dynamic as one that would instantly become toxic should they pursue a romantic relationship.”

With that little thought in mind, let’s move onto point 3: an exploration of friendship, romance, and why toxicity is not exclusive to the latter.

Let’s start with what I agree with:

“The entire foundation of mai and zuko’s relationship was built on how miserable they were together, and how they would just sit there and hate the world together— letting their misery fester as they enabled each other’s depression...”

I’m not sure how necessary it is for me to elaborate on this point given that it’s already been accepted by comradekatara and perhaps 60,000+ other users on Tumblr (a gross exaggeration but this remains unimportant), but in her essay, “Zuko, Mai, and the Nature of True Intimacy,” Araeph contributes more nuance to the concept of Ma/iko and mutual misery, stating that,

Unfortunately for [Zuko and Mai’s] relationship, Mai is and will always be a pessimist—a character trait, not a character flaw, in her. The key difference lies in how Mai and Zuko use their negative feelings. When Zuko sinks into negativity, he gives up on any actions that will materially change his world for the better; Mai, on the other hand, can remain negative even at the height of her character development, and it does not impede her ability to act.

So while Mai enables Zuko’s depression, Zuko does not necessarily do the same for Mai. Nonetheless, throughout their relationship for the first half of season 3, neither of them communicate constructively or push each other to grow as people.

This may be the third disclaimer I’m making, but I first want to say I have nothing against Mai. However, I do have something against the idea that “[Mai and Zuko] would work so well as friends if they weren’t trying to make their dumpster fire of a relationship work.”

Their relationship is a dumpster fire, yes, but will the flames cease simply if the amount of intimacy in the relationship changes?

comradekatara state themselves that their entire romantic relationship is quite depressing - they are only able to connect through empty physical intimacy and mutual hatred of the world. Without that, there is little left for them to bond over. Once Zuko overcomes his conflicting morality and inaction from the first half of season 3, he becomes someone who is strongly guided by his principles and beliefs. However, for the entirety of the series, Mai is characterized by her moral apathy. To cite from Araeph again,

It is moral intimacy that is the last and worst omission for Mai and Zuko… Zuko’s struggle to find and follow his principles is the most central aspect of his character, yet it is a struggle Mai neither understands nor respects…

Lack of moral intimacy (not sharing the same core beliefs) is something that applies to both platonic and romantic bonds. Thus, just as transitioning from a meaningful friendship to a romance does not inherently create toxicity in a relationship, switching from a romance that exacerbates one (or both, depending on how you interpret it) party’s misery does not necessarily erase the preexisting negativity in a relationship - perhaps some of it may subside, sure, but as long both parties continue to fail at communicating and understanding each other, even their friendship seems bleak at best. In this case, Mai and Zuko may work well as conditional friends, or in other words, friends who are only friends when they have something to mutually be miserable over. And this tiptoes the line of speculation, but they could be a formidable political team. But unless the Ma/iko dynamic shifts drastically in the lovers-to-friends transition, I’m not sure if there’s much potential in a friendship between them.

In conclusion, there is a lot I don’t agree with from comradekatara’s post, but if there’s one takeaway I want to impart onto everyone who’s read this far, it’s this: crossing and uncrossing the line between platonic and romantic bonds is not always a transformative experience for the relationship, and the nature of human relationships is a complex spectrum -- not a light switch that can only be set between healthy and unhealthy.

Thank you all for reading!

[robininthelabyrinth]

How would you describe your version of the Jiangs?

See, this gets tricky, because I often write my fics in close-person perspective and that means I write them as how the POV character perceives them to be rather than how they really are. So a fic written in the POV of Jiang Cheng will have a very different Jiang sect than a fic written from Wei Wuxian or a third person’s POV - even though their actions wouldn’t be in any way different.

That being said, my version of Jiang Fengmian and Madame Yu (excluding Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli because that would take forever):

Jiang Fengmian is a calm, introverted, laid back person who tends to go with the flow. He hates confrontation and drama, and just wants to be happy, which is reflected in his preference to surround himself with happy people who similarly believe in not letting things bother them. He rarely pursues anything too aggressively because he thinks that’s just setting yourself up for disappointment, and tends to deal with difficult situations by looking for a solution where everyone will leave him alone/continue to play nice, without really thinking too much in the long term or too deeply about questions of right and wrong. If someone starts an argument with him or is annoying him, he will leave rather than engage; if someone does something that only harms him tangentially, he will ignore it in the hopes that it will go away by itself. He is a private person who does not generally share his emotions.

He does not have a happy marriage - he likes his wife a great deal, actually, but their communication styles are so utterly different that he honestly thinks she hates him, even when she’s trying to show affection, because he does not understand that anger/scolding can show care. His own methods of showing affection are often rejected by her (because she in turn doesn’t understand him), and he believes this means that she does not love him. He believes he was in love with either Cangse Sanren or Wei Changze or possibly both, he’s not entirely sure himself, and he regrets their deaths more than anything else in his life - except maybe the realization that his wife does love him, always has, and that he only figured it out right before their deaths.

He is, objectively, a bad father. He favors Wei Wuxian and neglects Jiang Cheng, and lets Jiang Yanli bear most of the emotional burden from that. He does not think of himself as a bad father - he doesn’t really think of himself as a father much at all. He doesn’t see anything wrong with what he is doing because he treats his children like adult friends, so he thinks it’s fine to spend time with the people whose personalities he likes (Wei Wuxian) and less time with those he doesn’t (Jiang Cheng). He is, unknowingly, rather misogynistic, and assumes that Jiang Yanli, who fits his image of a proper woman, is fulfilled by caring for her brothers and not burdened by it; ironically, the women he actually appreciates most are the ones who break his expectations. 

Madame Yu, Yu Ziyuan, is a lonely, highly introverted woman with an extremely strong sense of pride. Her personality is cold and standoffish, coming off as disdainful, and she doesn’t have any mode other than fully engaged and intense about everything. She does not suffer fools gladly, and has a truly nasty turn of phrase that does more damage than she realizes. She is extremely aware of etiquette and class divisions, and is especially angered by disrespect. She was an excellent cultivator in her youth and is an excellent trainer for the Jiang sect, remaining highly respected by her peers, although less so now that she no longer goes out on night hunts; she did not want to stop, but felt she had no choice once she became a mother. She is resentful of the fact that her husband does not involve her more in sect politics, and believes she would do a better job if given the chance, but she would never lower herself to ask because it would risk being rejected.  She misses her home very much, in part because she was last truly happy there, but she’s also extremely proud of being part of the significantly stronger Jiang sect.

She expresses affection through worry (often manifesting as scolding) and through acts of service, such as by trying her best to improve the sect’s reputation or make people stronger. As a result of her own experiences, she believes people need to be toughed up to deal with the cruel realities of the world. She is in love with her husband, who she believes does not love her - she interprets his gifts as trying to buy off her anger, which only makes it worse, his acts of service as condescension, and when he says sweet words to her she is convinced that he is only trying to use her as a ill-fitting substitute for the person he really loves, which also makes her angry. This is in large part because he persists in treating her like she is a soft woman who likes pretty things for the sake of being pretty, which she is not - she is highly practical and likes to look good because she knows it’s another weapon, not because being pretty is fun. Her best friend - who became Madame Jin - has an equally unhappy marriage, which she thinks should give her a cynical view of marriage, but in fact she’s still secretly a romantic at heart.

She is, in many ways, a bad mother. While she loves her children, she also sees them as key to her position as mistress of the Lotus Pier, and anything that challenges that position is disrespect to her - a sore spot. She does not understand how Jiang Yanli seems to be happy with what she is given, a domesticity almost to the extent of acting like a servant, but since it seems like Jiang Yanli likes it, she tries not to interfere. The fact that Jiang Fengmian won’t quash the rumors about Wei Wuxian makes her anxious that he is, in fact, planning on disowning Jiang Cheng in favor of Wei Wuxian, and she hates the fact that Jiang Fengmian prefers Wei Wuxian. She gets this anxiety and anger out by trying to make Jiang Cheng do better in the hope that if he is truly exceptional, the way Wei Wuxian is, Jiang Fengmian will finally like him - and maybe also her. She is aware to some extent that what she is doing is futile and hurting Jiang Cheng, but she cannot seem to stop herself. 

She does not hate Wei Wuxian himself, nor does she mean him any harm - if only her husband were not so partial to him, she would be very pleased with how he’s done as head disciple. She makes sure he has the best possible training and wants to cultivate him to be as strong and smart as possible, in large part because she thinks of him as her son’s future right hand. The main thing that bothers her is that he leads her son in trouble - the issue being lead. If Jiang Cheng were leading Wei Wuxian into trouble, she wouldn’t mind it, but she foresees that it will be a problem in the future; she doesn’t want her son to be a hollow sect leader who is a puppet for Wei Wuxian. 

[katsidhe]

could you share the descriptions of the answers? I'm bad at answering these quizzes cause I always get like 3 answers that fit but in different circumstances so I like seeing all of the descriptions

Yeah sure! I too wish uquiz gave an option to see all the result descriptions... alas. 

anyway here’s a wall of text, go nuts. 

DEAN-CODED DEAN GIRL

You might just be the hero of a YA fantasy novel or an action movie, because you have Big Protag Energy. You’re self-centered and extremely giving at the same time: you expect and demand absolute loyalty, just as you provide the same. Your love can move mountains, but if you’re not careful that same love can be suffocating or controlling. You’re volatile: you’ll cut a bitch and you don’t care who knows it. You’ll kick their ass. You’ll kick their dog’s ass. You’ll kick your own ass. You have a one-liner for every occasion. Your friends like you but would describe you as “a lot.” You’re magnetic: your charisma and sheer bull-headedness mean you stand out in every room. You’re polarizing, and you know it, but that doesn’t bother you: you know you’re right, and even when you’re wrong, you’re at least entertaining. You’re very “do as I say, not as I do:” you’re a bit of a hypocrite, but, like, in a fun way.  

Holotypes include: Dean Winchester (Supernatural), Thomas Jefferson (Hamilton), Sirius Black (Harry Potter), Kathryn Janeway (Star Trek: Voyager), Katara (ATLA), Vriska Serket (Homestuck)

DEAN-CODED SAM GIRL

You are a charmer and a people-pleaser. You’re charismatic to a fault, when you want to be: whether consciously or not, you have a razor-keen sense of how others see you, and you mold yourself to expectations. You can either talk circles around most people, or you come across as so fundamentally honest that you gain everyone’s trust without trying. Your affable persona is built on a rock-solid sense of purpose. You have a steadfast, deadset fixation on your goals, which you know in your heart to be worth any cost and any sacrifice. Armed with iron conviction, you’re a rebel with a cause. Is it paranoia if they really are all out to get you? When you inevitably win, the whole world will know your name. Your strong sense of self will carry you through any hardship. Your friends look up to you, but they don’t always “get” you. 

Holotypes include: Lucifer (Supernatural), Eponine (Les Mis), Count Olaf (A Series of Unfortunate Events), Prince Zuko (ATLA), Samwise Gamgee (LOTR), Karkat Vantas (Homestuck)

DEAN-CODED CAS GIRL 

Like all Dean-coded people, you are charming and affable, and you talk a big game. You might be the class clown or a popular athlete, or otherwise one of them cool kids, but underlying that public persona is a certain quiet idealism. You keep your strong convictions close to your heart, even when far from home or beset by strife. You’re fiercely loyal and you crave being around people, but you can see when your friends need space, and you can get along okay on your own. You’re not afraid to change your opinions if new information comes to light. Strangers find you easy to get along with: you tend to go along with the group, and you’re a team player no matter what needs to get done. Your chill-to-pull ratio is sky-high.

Holotypes include: Ahsoka (Star Wars), Meg (Supernatural), Percy Jackson (Percy Jackson), Ginny Weasley (Harry Potter), Boromir (LOTR), Jon Snow (Game of Thrones)

SAM-CODED DEAN GIRL

You come across as level headed, but you’re never more than an inch from going off the rails. Your highest values are love and personal loyalty, but you’re pragmatic about it, and you try very hard not to put unfair expectations on other people, with varying degrees of success. You spend a lot of time dealing with expectations; it’s something you either grapple with, or lean into to use to your own ends. You value your own sense of identity, but that identity can get subsumed by your loyalties. You can easily get pulled in or suborned by strong personalities. You keep secrets, both from yourself and from others. Who you want to be is at odds with how you see yourself. People meeting you for the first time might say you’re aloof. You have lots of strong opinions, but you usually keep them to yourself… unless provoked. Careful; you bite. 

Holotypes include: Mary Winchester (Supernatural), Harry Potter (Harry Potter), Aragorn (LOTR), Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars), Julian Bashir (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine), Katniss Everdeen (Hunger Games) 

SAM-CODED SAM GIRL

Gifted kid (diagnosis). You were and maybe still are an outsider, and because of that you’ve had to learn to be self-sufficient and confident in your own abilities. You’re a fiercely independent overachiever, and you’ve fought hard for every inch. Somewhere inside you is a hot, long simmering rage born from the injustice of the world, but it’s buried very deep. You’d be more than content to be alone for long periods of time. You have sometimes crippling perfectionism: if you aren’t succeeding, it’s your fault for not trying hard enough. You’ll pick every kind of intellectual fight and throw yourself into playing devil’s advocate just to improve your understanding: you see the gray areas in everything. You’re aggressively big-picture. You want to, no, you MUST change the universe, but you don’t need to take credit for it. Your few friends might describe you as callous, but you know you’re just being realistic: you’ve got a harsh, clear-eyed sense of the world. No pain, no gain, and really, if you do the math, no single individual is all that important in the grand scheme of things.  

Holotypes include: Kevin Tran (Supernatural), Jean Valjean (Les Miserables), Emperor Palpatine (Star Wars), Neville Longbottom (Harry Potter), Frodo Baggins (LOTR), Dirk Strider (Homestuck), Luke Castellan (Percy Jackson)

SAM-CODED CAS GIRL

You have a strong sense of how the world ought to be, but you have no overriding vision or big master plan: you take life day by day to fix the little things you can. You have very few close relationships, but those you have you treasure dearly. You support your few friends unconditionally, but you tend to be emotionally distant with acquaintances. You may be a bit of a pushover. You often find yourself put in the position of mediator. You loathe conflict, so you avoid it unless absolutely necessary--but once you’re truly angry, you’ll stop at nothing to see justice done. You’re a diplomat and an advocate: you are deeply idealistic, but you’re nevertheless strongly grounded in a pragmatic sense of achieving what you can. Philosophy is action, action is philosophy; you like meditation and self-improvement and have probably done at least one juice cleanse. Both friends and strangers describe you as quietly dependable. If you can’t see the trauma, the trauma can’t see you! That’s just science!

Holotypes include: Sam Winchester (Supernatural), BJ Hunnicut (M*A*S*H), Jean-Luc Picard (Star Trek: The Next Generation), Aang (ATLA), Luke Skywalker (Star Wars), Nico di Angelo (Percy Jackson)

CAS-CODED DEAN GIRL

Much of your identity is tied up in a set of core beliefs - to the point where those beliefs might be strong enough to override your identity. You’re not beholden to any outside system. If you’re comfortable serving a larger common goal, it’s because you believe in it wholeheartedly. You’re action-oriented: you act first, and think later, or possibly never. You judge your friends solely based on what they do, and you tend to hold people accountable for any unforeseen consequences of their choices. You have strong personal loyalties. You’re not at the center of your social circle, but your friends trust you implicitly and the leader of your group tends to confide in you. You don’t seek power, but you’re also not afraid of taking charge, and you may find power thrust upon you. If you do find yourself in a position of leadership, you struggle with going too far or taking your friends in an unexpected direction. Whether you’re fighting in a war or making yourself a sandwich, you go hard in the motherfuckin’ paint.

Holotypes include: Castiel (Supernatural), Javert (Les Miserables), Captain Rex (Star Wars), Kanaya Maryam (Homestuck), Worf (Star Trek), Albus Dumbledore (Harry Potter)

CAS-CODED SAM GIRL

I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you’re a bit weird. You are spacey or odd or otherwise out of step with how people think you should act, but that’s fine. It doesn’t matter what they think, because if you’re sure of one thing, it’s that you should never mold your unique identity to other people’s expectations. You live internally: you’re all about grand, world-changing concepts, whether they be philosophical, artistic, or mathematical. You are grounded in the reality that you are one person and one viewpoint among many others, but that doesn’t stop you from writing your nine-hundred page thesis on the topic you’re passionate about. You can justify just about anything by the virtue of your personal convictions arising almost entirely from within yourself. Your identity can get swept up in your big ideas. You’re easier to sway with logic than with emotion, but you don’t feel the need to confine yourself with such terms: you operate on both vibes and flowcharts. You move through the world with the assurance that you are the master of your own fate, and you are unburdened by worrying about the opinions of others. You won’t let yourself feel pinned down by one social group; you float in and out comfortably, depending on how you’re feeling. Friends and strangers describe you as “spooky.”

Holotypes include: Azazel (Supernatural), Luna Lovegood (Harry Potter), Aaron Burr (Hamilton), Princess Azula (ATLA), Yoda (Star Wars), Jadzia Dax (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine), Terezi Pyrope (Homestuck)

CAS-CODED CAS GIRL

You are chaotic and excitable. You’re swayed by the drive to explore: the greatest good is to understand the universe and your place in it. You’ve got big ideas, and you’re drawn to new experiences, but you don’t necessarily understand what’s going on. You might be a part of a bigger social machine, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be defined on its terms: you’ll self-actualize if it kills you. You identify new objects by licking them. You can see the strings of the world; what will you choose? You’ll take the reins and see where they take you. You say you’re following your own path. Your friends say you don’t know what you’re doing. Pragmatism? Never heard of her. A dream is a vision is a reality; ideas are the world writ large. You might be a prophet or a visionary. With your head in the clouds, you’re sometimes divorced from both reality and consequences. You’re usually on the outside looking in, and you don’t want to be. People think they understand you, but they definitely don’t. Your friends and enemies describe you as impulsive and mysterious. 

Holotypes include: Raphael (Supernatural), Uncle Iroh (ATLA), Draco Malfoy (Harry Potter), Data (Star Trek: The Next Generation), Obi-Wan Kenobi (Star Wars), Gandalf (LOTR)

[felassan]

Gamers For Groceries 2 event

A Twitch stream event from a few days ago. It can currently be re-watched here (it was fun & interesting, so I do recommend to check it out direct). This post contains some notes on things of particular interest & relevant timestamps, in case this is useful to anyone (for example bc of accessibility reasons).

First up is the All About Animating panel, a series of mini-interviews with game devs (animators) asking what they do, how they got there, and advice for anyone interested in getting into the industry. Some or all of the devs that were interviewed are currently working on DA4. They talked a bit about their day-to-day work and a lot about the craft of game dev animation in general. This segment runs from timestamp ~38 mins 40 secs to 1:07:50. Some notes:

[sounded like DA4] Right now the creature team are working on different creatures in a way which involves going through a lot of mocap data

At BioWare they have a pretty big technical animation team, to support their animators, so each tech animator has a different specialty. Tech anim involves animation support, character art support, and rigging the characters so that the animators can pose them

[not sure if re: DA4 work specifically, another project or a general comment on the craft] One of the featured animators’ area of specialty at the moment is faces and hair (building the control structure for face animations). First they had to decide how the face rig and its control structure would work. This involves a lot of performance capture of live actors for things like cinematics and gameplay animation, therefore the rigs for bodies and faces have to be able to accurately capture the full range of expressions and emotions that the actor is portraying. Right now the stage that this dev is working on most is setting up the heads that they’re getting through the pipeline from character art e.g. making adjustments based on feedback from the cinematics team. “Polish - just trying to get realism”

Hair tech has come quite a long way in the last few years [in the industry]

[not sure if re: DA4 work specifically, another project or a general comment on the craft] Hair is very complex to get right. “In the past most games have used card-based hair, which is basically like sheets of polygons with a texture on it that looks like hair, through layers of transparency. But real hair is strand-based, digital strands, so we’re starting to look into that kind of tech - try to get more realistic, more beautiful hair, but there’s always a performance cost to hair. Layers of transparent things are always an expense, they need to balance like, it looks good and moves well, but it doesn’t make your computer or console chug. [...] I guess we’re in the prototype stage but we’ve almost got a set pipeline. It’s always fun to experiment”

In Mass Effect 2 or 3, Miranda’s hair was as expensive as a whole character (!)

[on balancing hair costs/performance, general] It depends on things like character importance and how many characters are on-screen at the time. When you’re in gameplay fighting a bunch of monsters you’re not going to be giving full beautiful hair to all the characters and the monsters, as it will cost too much. (Having a helmet on is a convenient way to get rid of hair.) But if it’s a cinematic scene, with 2 characters talking to each other in a dramatic context, there’s a better budget for nice hair allocated

Some of the hair in Anthem was quite expensive in cinematics. They kept getting bugs from QA saying (for example) that a character’s hair was tripling the performance cost in the scene, so it would go back to character art so they could take away some of the hair cards. “Tough balance, quality versus cost”

“I wish all the characters could have beautiful strand hair”

For p-cap, a lot of the time they don’t want to be too prescriptive in terms of the direction that they’re giving the actors, as the actors know what they’re doing and have a lot of experience, so they give them vague instructions that they then riff off of

[sounded like DA4] They recently did a mocap shoot

[sounded like DA4] There’s a bit more productivity happening now in the pandemic situation; now that the animators are not all going to the capture lab in Vancouver in person for shoots, if it’s not their turn to direct a shot they can instead be working on something else on their computers (multi-tasking). ((Lead DA4 Producer Scylla Costa recently gave a talk at a games festival on the challenges of DA production during the pandemic. In part of this talk he talked about various benefits and drawbacks to the remote-working situation. He also talked about and showed some behind-the-scenes stuff for p-cap and mocap. Notes, images and link here))

[sounded like DA4] Special mocap suits were sent out that they can use with a laptop to go anywhere and shoot motion capture. It’s not as high fidelity as what comes out of the capture lab, but it’s really good for prototyping stuff. Before the pandemic they did some of this (going to a park and shooting some running around)

[sounded like DA4] In one of the shoots they had some actors who were really well-trained in dancing. They were trying to get them to do some combat stuff. This was a bit challenging in the pandemic situation as there’s only so much they can demonstrate/portray as an example to the actors from a distance on camera. “It’s hard to describe what a ‘dodge to attack’ is through the camera to somebody who has no idea what combat looks like in video games”

[not sure if re: DA4 work specifically, another project or a general comment on the craft] The pandemic has really affected performance capture for the face side of things badly, as in order to record, the actor gets dots painted on their face in specific locations by a makeup artist. They can’t do that right now because of social distancing/restrictions, so they haven’t been recording faces at the moment

The more detailed a face, the more joints it has, the more the cost to performance is

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There was also the Writers’ Block panel, featuring DA writers Mary Kirby, Sheryl Chee and Patrick Weekes, and DA editor Karin Weekes. The timestamps for this segment are ~2:37:50 - 3:26:20. Some notes:

PW has never been weirder than when they were writing Cole on DAI

PW thinks that they accidentally wrote part of “Timber” by Kesha into Solas at one point and they were like “Well, okay, I have to stop listening to Kesha”

For Sheryl, after a while Blackwall’s VA always nailed doing his lines. She loved the quality of his voice and so after a while would always hear his voice while she was writing. This really worked out

^ Mary had this with Merrill. As soon as they cast Eve Myles she listened to several hours of her in Torchwood, and then just wrote to the way that she spoke as much as possible

^ PW had this with GDL as Solas and FPJ as Bull. As soon as they heard FPJ’s delivery, they were like “Oh, okay, I have to write some lines differently, because Bull is smarter than I realized”. With GDL they were like “Okay, he’s going to put poetry into anything I say, in the best way possible”. In early drafts of Solas lines there were parts where they [PW] wondered “Is this too melodramatic? Is this too tragically-angstful?” and then they would hear GDL and be like “Oh! [It’s fine] Game on!”

For localization, German words are often quite long so they often have to make sure that everything fits on the GUI

They think scenes like the romance scenes sound prettier in the Italian versions

Behind the curtain in creating the in-world languages: PW: “There are some awesome websites that have every elven word, like ‘Here are the translations and verb tenses and conjugations’ [etc], [...] and usually Mary and I get very sad slightly looking at those pages going like ‘Does that mean that we have to stick to that?’ [...] The rule is, if I’ve looked at the Wiki and the words, and I go ‘Here’s the correct grammatical way to do it’, and if that turns out to be too long or too many disconnected syllables and it just looks bad or sounds bad, then we shorten it to something simpler, because the key is we want to give the flavor of a foreign language, but we don’t have the world-building budget and capacity to make something that is going to be dictionary-real [in a way that] someone could go through and translate all the background things written on the old temple walls”. Part of the reason for this is the consideration for VAs, who already have to act while bearing lots of things in mind, like the cues in the script for each line

Mary: “For building a language, the first things that I started with for qunlat, elven and dwarven, was what words do we need to use the most? Greetings, farewells, words for friend and enemy, basic things that will come up easily in conversation. After that it’s ‘How difficult is this for other writers to use?’ Can they just pick it off the Wiki? Do they need just one word? Do they need to write whole sentences, and how does that work? Qunlat has almost no grammar to it because asking anyone to learn how to use Qunari grammar and conjugate verbs in a pretend language is impossible, and then once you’ve done that a human being has to be able to read it, while not knowing what any of it means”

PW: “One thing that I was really impressed with with Mary in particular doing, Mary was one of the big lore people across the entire DA series; I can look at a word and go like, ‘That has two A’s in a row, that’s definitely a Qunari word. That word is kind of long and maybe has some apostrophes and has a couple of flowy vowel sounds, that’s probably elven’, I think that’s what’s important. You want players to be able to look at a word, players want to feel smart, [like] ‘Oh I don’t know what that means but I totally know that’s a word from the Qunari people!’”. Mary: “Every language has its own set of phonemes, the sounds that they make, and the sort of word structure and spelling so that it gives a flavor to that language. Hopefully that is always chosen to be pronounceable, because again, very important that the words can be said by human beings :D”

Sheryl: “One of the fun things to do is to make up swear words in the fake languages [...] Recently Brianne wanted a word, I don’t know if she managed to find one”

The origin of bosh’tet in ME: it’s just saying “bastard” and slurring it

PW: “I feel like there are times when past writers kind of leave traps for future writers, where past writers will go ‘Okay, I’m going to write this detailed phrase in a codex entry but don’t worry, it doesn’t matter if it can never be said aloud, because it’ll never have to be voiced!’ and then, next game, guess what guys! Look what you have to make someone [a VA] say! And you’re like [facepalm], c’mon!”

Karin: “Now, four games in, we have pages and pages of all these examples, and I wanna say this, well that’s how we said something before, well that’s ridiculous, I don’t wanna say that, but now we’ve said it and it’s out there, so it’s like, how do we, y’know, how do we evolve, and sometimes we just go ‘Screw it! Languages are living languages! We’ll just say it like this now!’”

PW's favorite is the sarcastic Mythal’enaste, “Because it’s the sarcastic Mythal's blessing that basically means you’re getting screwed over somehow. I love it because Mythal nasty! Whoever wrote that clearly never thought that someone would have to say this out loud”

Sheryl wrote Bull’s joke icicles line. She also wrote Isabela’s big boats line - Jennifer took it out but then DG was like “No it has to come back”

They have a pun test, they get a few of them and have to allot them wisely so as not to oversaturate on the puns. “Is this good/bad enough to be one of the times that we pull the trigger? We did have one of those recently, I obviously can’t talk about it, but it was pronounced Okay to go ahead”

The ‘baby-est’ writer is Brianne, who’s been there 8 years

It makes PW sad that the players never get to see the writers’ temp-text [placeholder text when portions are a WIP]. “People have the best temp-text". Mary: “The number of conversations that I’ve temped in like ‘WELL. I hope nothing BAD happens HERE’”

Q. If you could bring in anybody from outside of gamedev, who would you like to work with and do a writer’s session with? PW: “I will say romance novelist Nora Roberts, she is really smart and also she knows how to write inside a genre, and do wonders within it. Her structure is so good. If you pick up one of her books, you know here’s when this is gonna happen, here’s when they’re gonna meet, here’s when this first moment will happen. We’re all experienced and I feel pretty good about that but I really like all of the things she does that way, and also I am a sucker for romance so I would love to bring a romance novelist in and just have them look at our scenes and go ‘Okay here, no, they should pull the tie so that the article of clothing comes open, we need a sense of how warm the skin is here’ - something like that. I’d wanna see what they could do with that”

“Luke writes the best worst lines”

“I’m always impressed with Mary getting away with lines. There are lines that I look at like, wow, you buried that one. [...] The only players who get that line, I feel like they earned it if they went that far into it. [...] And then Varric or Merrill says a ridiculous line in a one-time throwaway”

Karin: “The group dynamic, you’ll see conversations or snippets of a lunch chat or a thing we’ve been joking about and you’ll see it get pulled in, and how all of you [the writers] are able to take a normal kind of thing - as normal as we get as a group anyway - and then turn it into a moment, and use it to further the plot or use it to further a character. It’s just the cleverest thing and it happens in so many different ways. [...] The little snippet of life, then how you crafted it into this very cool thing”

Quartermaster Threnn was written by PW in half a day. “When I was writing Threnn, ‘Okay, this is a good-hearted [person], I was doing a little bit of Steel Magnolias, southern, no-nonsense, but like, blue collar Steel Magnolias’. This is someone accustomed to the ways of the world so she’s going to call a spade a spade. If you come up to her and you’re an elf she doesn’t recognize you and says ‘Buckets are over there’ because she thinks you’re there to clean, [but] ‘Anyone calls you a knife-ear you come to me I’ll take care of it’. It’s problematic but she’s trying - the good-hearted person rooted for the wrong group on every occasion. She was a proud Loghain supporter, she gets really exited if he comes to Skyhold.  That was a fun character for me to write because I had a viewpoint in my mind. I remember someone was like ‘Threnn is really important to me’. And you have to honor that, cause you’re like ‘Cool, it means so much to me that this connected with some part of you’”

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Also of interest was the Mass Affection panel, in which BioWare devs looked back in over a decade of history to remaster a classic. It featured devs who worked on MELE. The timestamps for this segment are ~3:36:09 - 4:24:37. Some notes:

When the pandemic hit the MELE team were in a relatively awkward spot. They were really entering into what they consider full production and were on-boarding a bunch of teams, as well as training and on-boarding third-party external partner specialized teams worldwide. When the pandemic hit, BioWare and EA were super on top of it. They were tracking it weeks beforehand, getting everyone their computers ready, and getting everything encrypted. When the middle of March 2020 hit they were home rightaway. EA were nothing but supportive throughout the entire thing. They got money every quarter for stuff. It functionally ‘hit’ at 4-6 different times for them as the pandemic occurred in different places throughout the world at different times depending on each country’s response plan (and their external partners were in different countries). “So it was one of those things where it was just like, every day we’d come in like can we still work with this company anymore? Do we need to find someone else? Do we need to pull people in off the other projects at BioWare to fill gaps here and there?”

There was a bug on Virmire at the part when you’re coming into the STG camp. If the Mako had its new boosters on and you came hurtling in really fast, it cut to the cutscene, but the Mako hit a jump and when Ash was like “What do we do now?” the Mako ended up literally flying around in the background sideways and then crashing into the camp

Another bug: when they were re-tuning the guns, the physics force on some of the guns with Hammerhead rounds was so high that when you were fighting some of the Thorian Creepers, you could ragdoll them so hard that you could basically embed them in the roof. They’d be moving so fast that they’d penetrate all the walls with their legs dangling out. It was so easy to do and you could do it to everybody. You could launch a geth halfway across an Uncharted World

Another bug: with Shepard’s casual appearance in ME3, if you didn’t have it set up perfectly correctly it would default to Grunt for some reason. You’d be walking around as Grunt, going on dates as Grunt, and your face would be all scrunched up because it was all mapped to human bones still, so it was just, like, Nightmare Fuel of Grunt

Another bug: in ME2 on Illium when trying to recruit Samara, the Asari enemies just would not stop screaming - regardless of whether they were hit or not, it was endless screaming. Later one of the devs got an audio file of the scream, endless and looped, and now one of the devs has it on their phone and uses it for their morning alarm tone

“Shepard would come up to characters and they’d just be screaming”

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There was also the Programming Variables panel, talking about what hurdles game programmers face. Some [or all?] of the devs that were part of this panel are currently working on DA4. They talked a bit about their day-to-day work and about the craft of game dev programming in general. The timestamps for this segment are ~ 4:24:46 - 5:06:02.

[source]

[insights/notes from Gamers For Groceries 1]

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