#and then to give the ending to another character

[emryslore]

Its usually pretty easy to spot once you start reading, ai writing is like reading wattpad writing but without the teenage ideals.

Im not sure how to explain it properly, but once you read it you realise that the way that the story flows or even how certain words are used aren't natural.

Ai also fails to give characters their own individual voices and it makes reading monotone. Even beginner writers end up creating individuality unconsciously while they write in order to differentiate their characters from one another. Ai does not do that, it does not need to.

no way ppl are using ai to write ao3. what happened to being a tortured writer. what happened to blood on the page. what happened to the ao3 curse. people used to get run over, have their houses burned down, break their entire spines and they still put in the work to finish a chapter. fuck you, using ai. y’all are weak

[anticipatedexhale]

Come on! Get ready!! they're taking you on a date <3

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, vander, jayce, jinx, mel, viktor, vi.

☆ ◞ summary: how cute ! They decide to take you on a date(character)!

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader. Pure fluff, and yeah that's it!!.

Mel Medarda.

Date Spot: A high-end art gallery followed by an exclusive rooftop dinner.

Mel enjoys sophistication and luxury, so she’d choose an art gallery showcasing Piltover’s finest works, followed by a private, candlelit dinner overlooking the city.

---------------------------------------------------

Mel’s hand rests lightly on your arm as you step into the gallery, the warm glow of chandeliers casting a golden light over the polished floors. The air smells faintly of expensive perfumes and freshly polished wood. As you approach a painting, Mel pauses, tilting her head thoughtfully. “This one,” she murmurs, gesturing to a striking abstract piece, “is about the illusion of control. It’s fascinating how it challenges our need for order.”

You can’t help but watch her as she speaks, the passion in her voice drawing you in more than the painting itself. She notices your gaze and arches a brow. “What? Do I have paint on my face?”

You laugh and shake your head. “No, I just like listening to you.”

Her lips curve into a soft smile. “Careful, darling. Flattery like that might make me keep you out all night.”

Later, as the two of you settle into a cozy corner of a rooftop restaurant, the city’s lights twinkling below, she raises her glass to you.

“To beauty,” she says, her voice low and warm, “both the kind we can see, and the kind we feel.” The candlelight dances in her golden eyes, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world has faded away.

---------------------------------------------------

Jayce Talis.

Date Spot: A lively Piltover festival.

Jayce loves excitement and fun, so he’d take you to a bustling festival filled with games, food stalls, and music, making sure it’s a night full of laughter.

---------------------------------------------------

The sound of laughter and cheerful music fills the air as Jayce leads you through the vibrant streets of Piltover’s annual festival. The scent of roasted nuts and sweet pastries wafts by, and colorful lanterns hang above, casting a warm glow.

“Alright, pick a game,” Jayce says, grinning down at you. “I’m winning you a prize.”

You point to a ring-toss booth, and he confidently strides up, paying for a few tries. His first attempt misses completely, and you can’t hold back a laugh. “Hey, that was a warm-up!” he protests, grabbing another ring.

After a few more tries (and some playful banter about his aim), he finally lands one, earning a stuffed animal for you. He hands it over with a triumphant smile. “See? Told you I’d win something.”

As the night goes on, the two of you share sugary treats and dance to live music under the lanterns.

When the fireworks start, Jayce pulls you close, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “This is nice,” he says softly, his usual confident demeanor giving way to something more tender. “I should take nights off with you more often.”

---------------------------------------------------

Viktor.

Date Spot: A quiet observatory on the outskirts of Piltover.

Viktor values intimate and meaningful experiences, so he’d take you to an observatory where you could stargaze and talk without distractions.

---------------------------------------------------

The observatory is quiet, perched on a hill overlooking Piltover. Viktor leads you inside, his hand brushing yours briefly before pulling away. “I thought you might like this,” he says, his voice soft. “It’s one of the few places where you can actually see the stars clearly.”

As you step onto the balcony, the night sky stretches out above you, a canvas of glittering stars. Viktor adjusts a telescope, his movements careful and precise. “Come here,” he says, motioning for you to look.

You lean over, and he places a hand on your back, steadying you. Through the lens, you see a cluster of stars glowing brightly. “It’s beautiful,” you whisper, straightening up to look at him.

He smiles faintly, his golden eyes reflecting the starlight. “It reminds me of you,” he says after a pause, his voice quieter now. “Brilliant, even in the darkest places.”

For a moment, you’re both silent, the world around you fading into the stillness of the night. Then, Viktor hesitates before reaching for your hand, his touch tentative but warm. “Thank you for being here,” he murmurs. “It means more than I can put into words.”

---------------------------------------------------

Vi.

Date Spot: A rooftop boxing ring overlooking the Undercity.

Vi would take you somewhere personal to her—a rooftop she knows where you can spar, laugh, and share a moment under the stars.

---------------------------------------------------

“Trust me,” Vi says, a teasing grin on her face as she leads you up a narrow staircase. “You’re gonna love this.”

When you reach the top, you’re greeted by a makeshift boxing ring set up on a rooftop. The view of the Undercity sprawls out below, the dim glow of streetlights casting long shadows.

“You brought me to fight?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

She laughs, tossing you a pair of gloves. “Not fight. Spar. Big difference.”

The two of you step into the ring, and she takes it easy on you at first, showing you how to throw punches and block. But soon, the playful competition begins, and before long, you’re both laughing too hard to keep going.

As you sit on the edge of the ring, catching your breath, Vi nudges you with her shoulder. “You’re tougher than you look,” she teases, her eyes softening.

“And you’re not as intimidating as you pretend to be,” you shoot back, grinning.

She leans in, her expression turning serious for a moment. “This was nice,” she says quietly. “I don’t let a lot of people in, but... I’m glad I let you.”

The vulnerability in her voice catches you off guard, and you reach over to take her hand. The two of you sit there for a while, the sounds of the Undercity fading into the background as the stars twinkle above.

---------------------------------------------------

Caitlyn Kiramman.

Date Spot: A picnic in the countryside.

Caitlyn prefers thoughtful, intimate moments. She’d plan a private picnic on a grassy hill outside of Piltover, where the two of you could enjoy some quiet time together surrounded by nature.

---------------------------------------------------

The sun is warm, and the breeze carries the faint scent of wildflowers as Caitlyn sets the picnic basket down on the blanket she’s laid out. You watch as she carefully arranges everything—fresh bread, fruit, cheese, and a bottle of wine.

“I know it’s not as exciting as a big event,” she says, glancing at you as she unpacks, “but I thought we could use a little escape from the noise.”

“It’s perfect,” you assure her, settling down beside her.

She smiles, the tension in her shoulders easing as she pours you both a glass of wine. The two of you spend the afternoon sharing stories, laughing, and enjoying the food. At one point, Caitlyn leans back, her hat shading her face from the sun, and looks at you with a rare, relaxed expression.

“You’re good for me, you know,” she says softly. “I spend so much time chasing leads and solving problems... I forget how nice it is to just be.”

You reach over, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You deserve it, Cait. You work so hard for everyone else.”

Her cheeks flush slightly, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she takes your hand in hers, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Thank you,” she murmurs, her voice almost a whisper. “For reminding me what’s really important.”

---------------------------------------------------

Jinx.

Date Spot: An abandoned fairground in the Undercity.

Jinx would take you to a forgotten fairground she’s decorated herself with colorful lights and strange contraptions. It’s chaotic, but it’s her way of showing you a piece of her world.

---------------------------------------------------

“Ta-da!” Jinx shouts, throwing her arms wide as you step into the abandoned fairground. Strings of mismatched lights are strung haphazardly between rusting rides, and strange, homemade decorations dangle from the stalls.

“You... did all this?” you ask, looking around in awe.

“Of course!” she says, bouncing on her toes. “You’re always saying I don’t do normal dates, so here it is. Jinx-style.”

She drags you toward an old dart booth, where she’s set up bottles and targets. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got!” she says, handing you a handful of darts.

After a few rounds of chaotic (and hilarious) attempts at hitting the targets, Jinx pulls you toward the Ferris wheel. It creaks ominously as she climbs inside, patting the seat beside her.

“Don’t worry, it won’t fall,” she says with a mischievous grin. “Probably.”

As the wheel lurches to life, you can’t help but laugh, holding onto the metal bar as the two of you rise above the fairground. The view is a mix of the Undercity’s flickering lights and her makeshift decorations below.

“See?” Jinx says, her voice softer now as she looks out over the scene. “It’s not fancy or perfect, but... it’s ours.”

You glance at her, her usual manic energy replaced with something quieter, almost vulnerable. “I love it,” you say, reaching over to take her hand.

Her cheeks flush slightly, and she looks away, a nervous laugh escaping her. “Good,” she mutters, squeezing your hand tightly. “’Cause you’re stuck with me now.”

---------------------------------------------------

Vander.

Date Spot: A cozy dinner at The Last Drop after hours.

Vander would want to keep things simple and meaningful, opting to cook you dinner in his bar after closing. He’d light a few candles and make sure it’s just the two of you.

---------------------------------------------------

The Last Drop is unusually quiet, the usual crowd of rowdy patrons gone for the night. Vander moves around the bar with practiced ease, a worn apron tied around his waist as he stirs a pot on the stove in the back.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” you say, leaning on the counter and watching him.

He glances over his shoulder, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “It’s no trouble. You deserve a good meal, and I figured it’s about time I cooked for you.”

The table he’s set up in the corner is simple but thoughtful, with a few candles flickering softly and two plates waiting. When he finally brings the food over—a hearty stew and fresh bread—you can’t help but smile at how much care he’s put into everything.

As you eat, Vander leans back in his chair, watching you with a content expression. “It’s been a while since I’ve had the chance to just sit down and enjoy a meal like this,” he admits.

“Well, you should do it more often,” you say, nudging his foot under the table. “You’re always looking out for everyone else. Let someone look out for you for a change.”

He chuckles, reaching across the table to take your hand. “You’re already doing that,” he says quietly. “Just by being here.”

The warmth in his voice makes your chest tighten, and as the two of you sit there, the world outside the bar fades away.

[rensukepie]

﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟblue lock twt links

┈─ .*.*~ i. r, n. s, a. n, m. k

contains + warnings : nsfw twt links, p in v, cunnilingus, unprotected sex (DO not do this!), sub!ness, kaiser’s a little mean…, fingering, pure smut, squirting, let me know if I need to put any more warnings!

a/n : i got multiple anons about twt links for the characters listed and just decided why not put them all together in one post?

to access these links, you must have a twt account! downloaded or not, it doesn’t matter ^__^! if it’s not downloaded just log in on the website.

minors dni

nsfw under the cut

﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ rin itoshi

he just wants to make you feel good :3

after a long soccer match <3

he’ll buy you all the expensive lacy lingerie you want! as long as it’s for his eyes only.

he’s so into costumes >.<!!

couldn’t resist seeing you in those long socks of yours…

so rough on you…

you just couldn’t wait until he was done with whatever he was doing!

big, muscular thighs = more pleasure for you, right?

what he looks like when he’s pussydrunk for you :3

when he tells you about his obsession with your tits ^__^

you forget how strong rin is sometimes…

﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ nagi seishiro

playing his game while he eats you out ^_^ (you end up getting him banned temporarily bc the players thought you were trolling :((..)

game desk fuck :3

he’s so unaware on how long his cock is :(

when he gets a little lazy…

he’s gotta thank you one way or another after you got him that game he’s wanted for so long, right?

teasing him while he was about to beat his high score was the worst thing you could’ve done…

tummy bulge(?) ^__^

sucking his cock while he’s in his gaming chair!!!

what a needy girl you are for him..

big dick!nagi :3!!

when you get needy for him in the middle of his video game

you’re his good luck charm before a video game :3

﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟalexis ness

give him your cunt after a long day and he’ll go crazy :3!!

what a needy boy he is..

jerking him off :3

couldn’t contain himself inside of you… >.<

jerking him off pt. 2!!

he’s so desperate for you :3

riding his pretty face <3

he wanted your attention :3

riding his cock + him sucking your tits = a double win if you both get pleasure :3!!

he deserves this after a long week <3

so easy to tease ^_^

﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟmichael kaiser

he found out about your oral fixation :;(

de-stress :3

cumming inside <3

he’s so mean :((

shower fuck…

didn’t know he could make you do that ^__^

plowing into you

his fingers are so long <3 gets righttt into those good places…

always needs a hand around your neck from behind :3

fucking his bratty girl <3 ^__^

[anonymous-dentist]

Maybe there would be less conflict on the server if there wasn’t a faction whose entire life hangs on causing chaos and clip farming.

The admins said it themselves weeks ago- Tango even said it to Pangi directly on stream, the creative kills are meant to be clips. That’s why pvp doesn’t count even though there can be some REALLY creative pvp plays, and even though you can get some really popular clips out of it (see: Pangi killing Tubbo.) It’s also why it’s now against the rules for anyone to give their lives for Red Team like Foolish did, that isn’t ‘exciting’ enough

It’s the same logic that Purgatory was run under: everything had to have the capacity to go viral. Former admins said that the teams were split the way they were to create the most conflict possible, and that seems like what’s going on with the Realm.

A lot of people have started complaining about how much chaos and violence there is on the Realm these days, and they’re also following the Purgatory Way and blaming everything on one specific group of people (Red and Green Teams) rather than acknowledging the flawed server system as a whole.

If Red Team doesn’t get an ‘exciting’ kill, they all die. This is inherently flawed because it forces people into specific actions while ignoring the purpose of the server: personal choice and freedom. The server wasn’t meant for lore! Tubbo said as much before day one, but this was immediately changed as soon as the Red Team was introduced. Now, people joining the server are forced into the Red Team and told they have to kill. Sure, they can not- like Sausage and uh. The majority of Red Team, who haven’t really logged on past day one- but they’re still bullied and attacked by the other characters for the simple crime of being on Red Team. Unlike the other factions, Red Team never got a choice. They aren’t allowed to change teams, and nobody from another team can join their team (except Jack Manifold ig.) They’re all forced into the role of villains with no choice to join, say, Blue or Yellow.

All this has done is created the conflict that people are complaining about. Nobody on Green can show where they live because it’ll be trapped by Ros or Aimsey. Pangi and Pili can’t sit on a roof and talk without being condescended to and accused of wrongdoing. Foolish can’t talk to Pili without being looked down upon by his kingdom.

And then the players who wanted a low-stakes casual server can’t join anymore because everything ties back to ‘Us vs Them’. Slimecicle dipped on day one, probably because he’s done wkth MCRP. How many players stopped logging in once there started being lore and conflict essentially forced upon them by the server’s very rules?

Every time someone on the server has come up with an alternative to the violence and chaos, such as getting people who don’t join to voluntarily get killed by Red Team, it’s shut down by the admins. Meanwhile, there appears to be favoritism towards the server’s ’good guys’, like Ros’ and Tubbo’s protection butterflies or rule changes that only seem to benefit them. While some of those rule changes are because members of Red or Green find out ‘loopholes’, it’s also kind of crazy how every rule change has benefited Yellow and Blue and hurt Green and Red.

Is this favoritism purposeful? Almost absolutely not, but it is convenient for causing conflict. Tensions rise as a result of all these things combined, and it’s all manufactured and really just not fun to watch anymore. Yellow is sick of being ‘targeted’, Blue is sick of Green and Red existing, and Red is sick of having to kill. (Green is just kind of vibing tbh, they’re chaotic and violent even without the killing rule.)

Even if the factions event ends soon, which I hope it does for the sake of the server, the fandom won’t be any less toxic. The conflict will continue in some way because this is what the server has built up as its base for content: conflict. None of it is natural, it’s all manufactured, and it’s all extremely Not Fun.

So don’t get angry at Red for killing and trapping, that’s all they were created to do. And that will never change.

[dracophile]

I actually really like this anime. In English it's called Campfire Cooking in Another World with My Absurd Skill. (yeah, i know, they all love these long ass names now...)

The main character is Tsuyoshi Mukouda, a 27 year old salaryman "accidently" sent to a fantasy world with three teenagers. When they scan him to see what abilities he has, his only abilities are "Online Shopping" and reading people's stats. Everyone, including Mukouda, don't see the use in this, but they can't return him home so he has to go out and figure out his place in this new world. Ends up though that A) Mukouda's hobby was cooking and he's really good at it and B) he can buy goods from their world using his "Online Shopping" and money from that world and C) His cooking, besides being the best thing they've ever tasted, gives BUFFS to other people, like higher defense, HP, attack, etc.

HIs cooking attracts the attention of Fel, an S level Fenrir wolf, who all but forces Mukouda to contract him as a familiar so he can eat his food. Later they're joined by Sui, the slime. Mukouda also ends up favored by four goddesses for giving them otherworldly sweets and goods, and he starts figuring out trades to get more coin.

Honestly the best part though? How they animate the food

This show will make you hungry

LET SUI GO PEW PEW

[myswans0ng]

As Grief Consumes

synopsis: An overconfident prodigy, a chain-smoking-alcohol-chugging brunette, a self-righteous hypocrite, a stoic unimpressed blonde, an overly enthusiastic boy and then there's you... A suicidal maniac.

contents/warning: MDNI, graphic depictions of violence/mature themes, ANGST, mutual pining, eventual smut/smut, slow burn, multiple love interests, character death/s, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, established age of characters is 18yo, jjk x oc, curse user!reader, fem!reader

status: ongoing

also on ao3: here

⋅───⊱ .prologue ⊰───⋅

Dear Mr. & Mrs. Kisaragi,

I hope this letter finds you in good health and high spirits. It is with great respect for your family’s renowned lineage and reputation, that I extend this formal invitation for your daughter, Ms. Kisaragi to enroll at Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Technical School.

Having had the privilege of witnessing Ms. Kisaragi’s exceptional talents firsthand during her recent fieldwork, I can confidently attest to her remarkable skill and potential as a jujutsu sorcerer.

At Jujutsu High, we aim to provide guidance, and an environment that fosters the development of sorcerers through rigorous training, academic excellence and hands-on experience. With our expertise, we can help Ms. Kisaragi to further refine her abilities and uphold the principles of sorcery. 

We deeply value the Kisaragi family's long-standing commitment to jujutsu sorcery, and it would be an honor to welcome your child as a student.

Should you have any questions or wish to discuss her enrollment further, please do not hesitate to contact me directly.

With highest regards,

Masamichi Yaga Principal Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Technical School

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

One. 

Just one. 

You load the bullet into the chamber. You give it a few long spins, playing with it like a spinning wheel. You count the seconds in your head, mumbling to yourself. The gears inside its mechanism, turning and turning.

6 seconds.

It took six seconds before the revolver stopped spinning on its own. You let out a sigh, exasperated. That took longer than usual. 

What does fate have in store for you today?

Is your luck finally running out?

Will it cooperate this time?

How exciting.

You chuckled softly at fate– at yourself, really. The metal— as you brushed your finger on the barrel, felt cool to the touch. A stark contrast on the warm leather grip as you held it so casually like a toy. 

You point the end of the barrel at the side of your head, its nozzle pressed against your temple. You have indulged yourself in another self imposed game of Russian roulette. The pressure of its weight almost feels comforting to you now. 

You groaned, your tone riddling with annoyance. “If this thing doesn’t go off, I’m gonna have a bad day.” 

Then you pressed its hammer. All you have to do now is pull the trigger, like you always do. 

You laughed again, a little maniacally this time as you felt your heart rate spike ever so slightly. If you keep doing this, it might get boring at some point. You thought to yourself. 

You recall the first time you picked up this unusual game of yours. You were eleven years old, stationed in the outskirts of some country you can’t even remember where exactly anymore. But what you do remember is your parents sending you on a mission in the middle of a warzone. Such a scared little twerp, you were. 

You weren’t supposed to be crouched behind the crumbling walls of a war-torn city, tending to soldiers whose bodies were mangled beyond recognition, your small— fragile,  bloody, little hands trembling as you poured every bit of your cursed energy into wounds that sometimes were too stubborn to heal or maybe you were just weak. You were a child after all.

A child gifted to wield the curse of the Kisaragi lineage. Oh what a marvelous specimen you are, they say. 

You could heal practically anything if you will it hard enough! Your curse was a gift. 

It’s a gift!

It’s a wonderful, magnificent gift!

You still remember the first soldier you tried to heal, a man whose face you never saw, the dirt had stuck to his skin. You remembered the blood that pooled beneath him, his groans of agony still sung so distinctly in your ears. You remember your hands pressing against his torso. Tears stained your eyes, but it was nothing compared to the gruesome sight before you. You felt your cursed energy course through him with whatever willpower your little body had. 

Then you felt it like an orchestra playing the bridge of a symphony. You felt his pain— every jagged breath, every sharp searing ache of his wounded flesh, the metallic tang in your mouth, the mind-numbing throb in his chest like it was hit by a fucking freight train. You absorbed all of this soldier’s torture in an attempt to heal him.

And he died anyway.

Idiot.

You told yourself it wasn’t your fault, that some wounds were beyond saving. Poor naive you, crying because you failed at the one thing you’re supposed to be good at.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. You say to yourself as you tap the barrel on your head on each emphasis. 

The gun felt colder now, as if it had sensed the shift in your otherwise manic mood. The weight of your memories pressing harder than the steel. 

It was a long night, alone, scared and unable to sleep. Anyone or anything that you knew was far away. You saw these soldiers sitting around a comfortable and warm fire, their conversation, their laughter as hollow as yours is now as they played this silly little game of life & death. Passing around a similar gun. You would hear a click but no bang, then they would laugh, and continue their chatter as if it was nothing. Like a daring game to be played amongst your closest and craziest friends.

A normal kid— person would find this terrifying if they had witnessed such recklessness. But you were no normal kid. 

No, no. A normal kid would run and tell an adult about what those dumb soldiers were doing.

But instead, this angered you. You confronted them.

Selfish!

You called them selfish.

Here you were using every ounce of your cursed energy, absorbing the torment of their pain and suffering just so they could live another day and see the faces of their loved ones once more and yet they were toying with their own lives. How incredibly… selfish.

At that time, you expected that these grown-ups�� these soldiers would hear the sincerity of your words and the fire in your heart. To realize that what they’re doing is wrong in every way but no.

They laughed at you as if you had said the most ridiculous thing ever. 

“A’piece of advice kid, you’ve alr’dy seen da’ shit they do t’us out there,” he narrowed his eyes at you, leaning a little closer. You could still remember the smell of tobacco on his breath. The same one your grandfather smokes. “If ya’ think ‘ya can find a candle of hope that we’ll survive this hell’ole, ‘ya might as’well look for f’kin’ Santa Claus,” he cackled. His friends, clamoring along with him like sheep.

“‘Ya might as well kick off b’fore they beat ‘ya to it!”

Demented.

Laughing.

Sheep.

Now, here you are. No longer that frightened child. Walking on a tightrope, just like they did. You’ve gone off to countless missions, stationed in every possible conflict zone imaginable, and tasked with high-risk operations that demanded every bit of your abilities.

You’ve felt— experienced almost every possible sensation of pain there is, from the sharp sting of a shallow cut to the jarring impact of losing a limb, and even… gunshots. Those still lingered in your veins, in your skin– in your senses, even after all this time. A blow to the head is nothing.

You exhaled sharply. Your finger hovered over the trigger. Your thoughts are as blank as the expression on your face. Your life at your fingertips. So poetic.

So… beautiful.

Click!

Nothing.

“What a bother!” You huffed, rolling your eyes. Just when you thought it was going to be a little interesting today, fate said otherwise.

Well, that’s that. You said to yourself as you swivelled your chair around, tossing the revolver back into your junk drawer. 

Disappointing. You sighed.

“Well that was… interesting,” you hear a voice say.

You look up, seeing two figures standing before you, just by the door of your study. One was a slender guy, his spiky hair as white as baby powder and a pair of sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose, giving you a glimpse of his bright— almost blinding blue eyes  along with his baby powder lashes.

Next to him, was another slim man but slightly more muscular, his eyes seemingly disinterested or bored. His long dark hair tied into a bun, a few untamed strands straying on the side of his forehead, almost as if it was intentional. His shoulders slumped, making the other appear taller. Next to each other, they looked like the two opposing sides of a yin yang… or the alternating stripes on a zebra.

“Usually people knock before they enter someone’s room,” you said. “Are all Jujutsu High sorcerers this rude?” 

The baby powder haired man chuckled. His tone, light and carefree. It was almost annoying. As if he hadn’t just witnessed you playing this dangerous game of yours. 

“Well apologies Miss,” he snickered. “But in our defense, the door was already open and we’re on a bit of a schedule here.”

You eyed them both warily, your thoughts elsewhere and you honestly couldn’t care less on what they were here for. You rest your cheek on the palm of your hand, your fingers tapping on the wooden surface of your desk. Baby powder was waiting for you to say something as he kept a friendly eager grin on his face.

His dark-haired companion rolled his eyes and nudged at his friend. “Satoru,” he muttered, his tone tinged with mild annoyance. He turns to you, he gives a small, apologetic nod. “Suguru Geto. It’s nice to meet you. We’re here on Sensei Yaga’s request to bring you to Tokyo.” 

Ah right. The letter. You should be honored, like your mother said. Master Yaga saw… potential in you. 

But you’re a skeptic at heart. Was it really potential?

Or a means to an end? Not that it would be any different with how you’ve been treated your whole life.

“Right…” You draw out. The adrenaline that briefly occupied your chest during your little game was now fading. “Sensei… I guess I have to call him that now too.”

“So you’re Gojo,” You point at the man with white hair then at the other one. “And you’re Geto.”

You’ve heard of them. Hell, who hasn’t? 

Their names were passed around here and there by your parents in such high regard, though never directly to praise you, but as measuring sticks, impossible benchmarks for you to reach as if it wasn’t you who was keeping this family afloat.

“Funny,” you continued on. “You’re far from what I had imagined in my head.” You said flatly, standing up from your seat as you looked over the two of them once more. But you can’t say for certain how you expected the one gifted with six eyes would look like.

And his friend, well you can’t really say much other than your small knowledge of his cursed technique.

Gojo chuckled, his confidence unwavering. “It’s nice to meet you too Ms. Kisaragi!” He said, almost jokingly.

“Sensei Yaga spoke highly of you, I mean the Kisaragi clan had contributed a lot to sorcerers and the military,” Geto continued, his tone steady and polite. “Sensei regrets that he hadn’t approached your family sooner.”

“Does he now?” You said, your tone neutral. You start to gather your things from your desk, and stuffed them inside your purse, preparing to leave the comfort of your home.

The Kisaragi name carried weight, sure. But you always questioned whether it was respect or fear that kept it in such high regard. Being admirable is one of things they’d call your family but anything your family did or their ‘contributions’ weren’t simply acts of altruism— or out of the kindness of their hearts, they were purposeful, calculated and designed to cement their influence on the people who could afford it. 

And you? You were just another piece in this carefully constructed game. 

Suguru’s expression remained composed, despite your disinterest in his attempt at flattery. Gojo leaned against the doorframe, his head tilted as a smirk started to form on his lips.

“I’m not gonna lie, Sensei Yaga gave us the impression that the Kisaragi were a friendly bunch and your mother seemed very nice when she welcomed us to your lovely home, but…” Gojo’s grin widened as he gestured towards you, sliding down his sunglasses just enough to reveal a glint of amusement in his bright blue eyes, teasingly. “...you? Not so much.”

You let out a long sigh, your hand on your hip as you shook your head, clicking your tongue mockingly as if you were disappointed in yourself. “You’re right! I should be nicer! Wouldn’t want to drag my family’s name through the mud— how’s this?”

You straightened up immediately, your demeanor shifting so seamlessly like you flipped a switch. Your posture becomes more poised and polished. You clasped your hands together lightly, plastering on a cheerful, almost unnatural smile.

“Oh Mr. Gojo and Mr. Geto,” you began. Your voice so sickeningly sweet and polite. “It’s such an honor to meet the two of you. I hear nothing but good things about you both, and I must say, you truly exceeded my expectations. Thank you so much for gracing me with your presence today!” 

Suguru’s brows lifted slightly, taken aback by the sudden change in your behavior, unsure how to react. Gojo blinked for a second before breaking into fits of laughter, clearly amused.

It seems that it doesn’t take much for the baby powder sorcerer to get entertained. His friend, on the other hand, was utterly confused.

“Was that better?” you said, your tone laced with sarcasm. “Now if you don’t mind, can we leave?”

Before they could answer, you walked towards the door. Eager to leave the room that you would’ve left with your brain splattered on the walls. Then you hear Geto speak, stopping you in your tracks.

“So what’s your name?”

“Huh, that’s right. Sensei Yaga forgot to mention it,” Gojo chimed in. “Care to tell us your name? I mean, we’ll be around each other a lot so might as well right?” He grinned.

You paused, your hand hovering over the door frame. For a brief moment, you felt like a deer caught in the headlights. Your name. They wanted to know your name. It was a simple question.

 You had two names. The one that belonged to you.

And the one that carried your honor, your family’s expectations, their legacy— your curse. 

It was at the tip of your tongue. It was the name that was drilled into you to answer with, the one that represented everything you’re supposed to be. 

Yuna Kisaragi. The bearer of the Kisaragi curse.

The Kisaragi’s wealth wasn’t measured in money or their business ventures. It was you. A culmination of generations upon generations of meticulous planning and selective breeding. They didn’t need vaults of gold or prized possessions, when they had you. 

You aren’t just one person, you are a legacy to behold of countless Yunas before you. The source of all their fortune. 

Eleven Yunas, to be exact. Eleven women reduced to a role they had to play, a placeholder for their ambitions. 

Your name was a beautifully crafted lie to protect you, so they say. It was easier that way, they said. A single false name meant fewer questions, fewer loose ends, and fewer ways for anyone to connect you to your true identity to the Kisaragi fortune. 

Most days you forget you had a real name. Not that it mattered anyway. No one knew what it was except you.

You turned slightly, looking over your shoulder. A small, practiced smile curved on your lips, one you had perfected over years of appeasing those who have raised you and those around you.

“Yuna,” you said smoothly. The name slips from your tongue with an almost mechanical ease. 

“Are we good now?” You asked, as you turned towards the door again.

Geto tilted his head, his sharp eyes observing you, you could almost feel it burning on your back. “You’re taking that gun with you?”

So he noticed.

“I’m not one to know much about women’s accessories and things they keep in their purse, it’s none of my business, really but that’s a pretty bold accessory to carry around, don’cha think?”

Gojo remained silent, as if to let his friend address the elephant in the room. I mean, they did walk in on you about to off yourself, it’s stupid to think that they’ve forgotten about it or let alone not notice that you had shoved it in your purse- not that you were being sneaky about it either.

You glanced back at them, trying to read if they were serious. Their gazes were nothing but solemn and even a little curious.

“Caught me,” You shrugged mockingly. “Here, I’ll put it in this little drawer.” You slid open the small end table next to the door and dropped it inside before closing it shut, waving it off with a smile.

“Were you really going to off yourself?” Geto asked bluntly, he watched you with a humorless expression, his sternness palpable.  

His— concern almost made you laugh. Instead your lips twitched into a faint smirk. “Lucky for you guys, it didn’t go off,” you said. “Would’ve been so rude of me if it did and you came all this way for nothing tsk tsk,” you clicked your tongue, shaking your head in ridicule.

“I mean what would my mother say?” You continue to mock. Then you turn on your heel, scoffing softly.

Sure enough, as you walked out the door of your study, Gojo and Geto exchanged a knowing look.

Gojo shrugged, chuckling at the absurdity of it all, and Geto can’t help but feel a migraine coming on, unsure if it was due to the 4 hour drive to get to your estate or you were right about the mere possibility that they would have gotten an earful from Yaga if they found you dead.

But one thing is for certain, you were going to be a handful.

[ comment if you want to be added in the taglist for future updates ]

a/n: i came up with the title and story while i was listening to 'As Grief Consumes' by Peter Gundry, i highly recommend it...

also on ao3: here

[deliciousangelfestival]

Change of Heart - 2 | Bucky

Character: Bucky x Female! Reader

Theme: Angst, tragedy, romance.

Summary: The interviewer asked her a provocative question:

“If you were offered a million dollars, would you leave your partner?”

Without hesitation, she replied with a smirk, “Give me one dollar, and I’ll leave him this second.”

True to her word, she walked away, leaving the man stunned and searching for answers. Now, he’s desperately trying to find her, grappling with the haunting question—why would she leave him so easily?

And is there more to her departure than a single dollar could ever explain?

Part 1 , Part 2 , -

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

“Fine,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. He knew there was no point in pushing further. Grace was like a fortress, guarding whatever secrets you had entrusted her with. Talking to her felt futile, like arguing with a wall that refused to crack.

“I won’t press you for more answers,” he said, his voice softening, though the tension lingered in his tone. “At least tell me this—is she in trouble? Is someone trying to hurt her or threaten her?” His jaw tightened as he spoke, his concern leaking through despite his best effort to remain composed.

Grace hesitated before answering. “No,” she replied firmly, her gaze unwavering.

A part of Bucky felt a wave of relief at her reassurance. If Grace said you weren’t in danger, then maybe you were safe. But another part of him sank deeper into confusion and sadness. For two years, you had been his constant, his safe harbor.

You weren’t just his wife on paper; you had been someone he could rely on, someone who listened to him without judgment. Now, the thought that you might be facing something he had overlooked made him feel hollow.

Had he missed something? Overlooked a sign? The thought gnawed at him as he stood there in silence. You had always been a good listener, absorbing his worries and frustrations like a sponge. Better than any therapist he’d ever paid for. In fact, since marrying you, he had stopped going to therapy altogether.

But then it hit him. You’d rarely opened up about your own life. He couldn’t even recall the last time you shared anything personal. Was that his failure? Not listening to you when you needed him most? His chest tightened with guilt as he realized that the contract, which was supposed to ensure mutual understanding, might have become a barrier instead of a bridge.

Before he could say anything else, his phone buzzed, breaking his train of thought. He glanced at the screen and saw the agency’s number.

“Mr. Barnes, it’s about the arrangement,” the voice on the other end said.

“What is it?” His tone was curt, impatient.

“Your wife has decided not to renew the contract.”

He gritted his teeth. “I know that already.”

“Yes, sir,” the voice continued, cautiously. “But she also returned the money you gave her.”

Bucky froze, his grip on the phone tightening. “What?”

“She left it with us. I’m sorry for the way this unfolded, Mr. Barnes. If you have time, we’d like to meet and discuss this in person.”

He clenched his jaw. “I’ll think about it.”

“Understood. One more thing—Miss L/N left a message. She wanted you to know that she’s sorry.”

Bucky ended the call without a word. His mind was racing, a cacophony of thoughts and emotions he couldn’t untangle.

As he turned to leave, Grace finally broke her silence. “She told me to tell you not to look for her,” she said, her voice low but resolute.

Her words landed like a punch to his gut. He turned back to face her, his expression a mixture of disbelief and sorrow. His fists clenched at his sides, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything.

“Don’t look for her,” Grace repeated, softer this time, as if trying to ease the blow.

Bucky’s lips parted, but no words came out. He swallowed hard, his throat tight. Without another word, he turned and walked away, her parting message crushing him with every step.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The matchmaking agency didn’t have an official name. To the outside world, it appeared to be an upscale wedding organizer. But beneath the surface, it operated a discreet business, catering to an elite clientele. The agency specialized in PR, celebrity pairings, and finding partners for those seeking unconventional marriages.

To join this matchmaking service, clients paid exorbitant fees, a cost justified by the agency’s ironclad guarantee of success and confidentiality. This exclusivity made it accessible only to the wealthiest 1%. For most clients, love wasn’t a priority. Many were too jaded, too broken, or simply unwilling to risk their hearts again, yet they craved the semblance of companionship.

Companionship didn’t necessarily mean intimacy. Some sought emotional connections without physical ties, while others wanted a blend of friendship and trust. In essence, the agency sold what its clients desired most: a reliable partner tailored to their needs.

That’s where Bucky came in. He wasn’t looking for love. He needed someone he could trust, someone who fit seamlessly into his life. You had checked every box. You charmed his parents and, more importantly, his grandfather—a critical seal of approval.

Now, Bucky sat in the CEO’s office of the agency, his jaw set and his posture rigid. The room was sleek and modern, dominated by a white sofa where both of them sat. He accepted the black tea she offered but barely touched it.

The CEO, a sharp-eyed woman in her late forties, sat across from him, her demeanor professional but empathetic. She had started this agency after her own marriage fell apart. Betrayed by her husband’s infidelity and weary of meaningless dates, she realized she wasn’t alone. Many shared her frustration with traditional relationships. That realization had birthed her unique matchmaking business.

She leaned forward slightly, her expression neutral but observant. “Thank you for making time to meet with me, Mr. Barnes,” she began.

Bucky’s voice was clipped. “Do you know what she did?”

“Yes,” the CEO replied calmly. “She came here yesterday and asked me to give you these.” She placed two envelopes on the table between them.

“This one contains the check for the money she received. She’s returning it to you. The other is a letter she wanted you to have.”

Bucky’s gaze dropped to the envelopes. They were unassuming, just thin paper, yet they felt heavier than the multimillion-dollar contracts he signed daily. He hesitated, his fingers brushing over the edges. Despite his composed exterior, uncertainty gnawed at him.

“Would you like me to open them for you?” the CEO asked gently.

“No, thank you.” His voice was firm, though his hand trembled slightly as he picked up the envelopes.

Slowly, he opened the first one. Inside was a check for the exact amount you’d received when signing the contract—$2 million for two years.

His chest tightened. So that damn $1 was enough to make you leave? Why?

Didn’t you say the money was meant to help you break free from your parents’ control? You wanted to save it to open a café, to buy a boat, to carve out a life of your own.

With a deep breath, he opened the second envelope. This was the one you had specifically instructed to be given to him. He unfolded the paper, hoping for answers, for clarity.

Instead, there was only one sentence:

“It’s not you. It’s me.”

Bucky scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. His grip on the paper tightened as his jaw clenched. What kind of joke is this? Of all people, he never thought he’d be the one on the receiving end of such a cliché. And didn’t everyone know? The person who said those words was usually the one placing blame.

So it is me. I’m the reason you left.

He pressed a hand to his forehead, closing his eyes as the weight of realization settled over him. He thought back to the countless times you’d listened to him, your quiet understanding, your patience. Had he ever done the same for you? Had he missed the signs that you were unhappy?

He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Did you see her face yesterday?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

“Yes,” the CEO replied, her expression unreadable.

“What did you see? Was she sad? Angry? Happy?”

The CEO took a moment before answering. “I sensed relief when she handed me the check.”

Bucky’s shoulders tensed, his chest constricting at her words. Relief? Was that all you felt after two years together?

“But,” she continued, her voice softening, “when she gave me the letter for you, I saw regret in her eyes.”

Bucky froze, those five words—I saw regret in her eyes—hitting him like a punch to the gut. He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the letter still clutched in his hand.

If you regretted it, why did you leave? Why didn’t you say anything? Was it really so unbearable to stay?

His thoughts spiraled as he sat there, motionless, staring at the remnants of what he thought was a stable arrangement. The unanswered questions twisted in his mind, leaving a hollow ache in their wake.

“Forgive my frankness, Mr. Barnes,” the CEO began, her tone professional yet slightly playful. “Since you’re officially single now, would you like me to add you back to the list?”

Bucky’s eyes darkened, and his jaw tightened as he leveled a cold glare at her. “Marriage is the last thing on my mind.”

The CEO nodded, her smile faint and understanding. “Of course. I apologize for asking.”

Bucky stood, adjusting his suit jacket with deliberate movements, signaling the end of the conversation. He turned to leave, but the CEO rose to her feet and extended her hand toward him.

“It’s been a privilege having you as our client, Mr. Barnes,” she said with a polite smile. “I hope our paths cross again.”

He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded her. After a brief hesitation, he reached out and shook her hand, his grip firm but curt. “This is the last time I’ll be here.”

Her smile didn’t falter, remaining calm and composed. “Safe travels, Mr. Barnes. And thank you for using our services.”

Bucky released her hand without another word, his expression unreadable as he turned on his heel and strode toward the exit. His footsteps echoed in the quiet, elegant office, a stark reminder that this chapter of his life was closing for good.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

Bucky slid into the backseat of his car, running a hand through his hair in frustration. The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror, hesitant but professional. “Where to, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky exhaled sharply, leaning back against the seat. “To Grandpa’s house.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the car wove through the streets, Bucky stared out the window, lost in thought. His mind wandered to his grandfather, Paul—stubborn, sharp-tongued, and annoyingly perceptive. He wondered if the old man already knew you had left or if he was still blissfully unaware.

Ever since you met his family, you’d formed an immediate bond with Paul. The connection between you two had been almost effortless. You once told Bucky that, having never known your own grandparents, you’d always yearned for an elder figure in your life.

For Paul, who often clashed with Bucky during their 20-minute tolerance window, you were a revelation. You brought out a side of him Bucky rarely saw—a livelier, softer version of the strict, commanding patriarch. Paul saw in you the granddaughter he’d always wished for: someone who called him, visited him, and actually listened to his long-winded stories.

Yet even that bond hadn’t been enough to make you stay.

When the car pulled up to the grand estate, Bucky stepped out and made his way inside, his movements tense and deliberate. He headed toward Paul’s study, where the old man often spent his afternoons.

Pushing open the door, he paused. Paul sat in his wheelchair by the fireplace, glasses perched on his nose, reading a letter. The firelight cast warm hues across the room, highlighting the lined face of a man who had lived through decades of triumphs and disappointments.

Before Bucky could announce his presence, Paul’s voice broke the silence.

“She left, didn’t she?” The elder’s tone was heavy, filled with resignation. He crumpled the letter in his hands and tossed it into the flames, watching as it curled into ash.

Bucky froze, guilt knotting in his chest. “She… she said goodbye to you?”

Paul didn’t look up. “And about the agency.”

Bucky’s stomach dropped. His mind raced, scrambling for an explanation. Did Grandpa know everything?

“Grandpa, I can explain—”

“Shut up, you stupid boy!” Paul snapped, his voice rising with a force that belied his age. His hand moved to his chest as if to steady himself. “You fooled me twice, Bucky. Twice! First, you made me believe your marriage was real. Then, you made me believe I finally had a granddaughter.”

Bucky instinctively stepped closer, his hand resting gently on Paul’s shoulder, his other moving to massage the elder’s chest. “I’m sorry, Grandpa. I—”

Paul shook him off, his eyes blazing with disappointment. “And don’t get me started on that ridiculous matchmaking agency. It’s absurd! What happened to normal relationships? Real love?”

Bucky swallowed hard, his throat dry.

Paul’s voice cracked, the anger giving way to heartbreak. “You broke this old man’s heart, Bucky. I thought… I thought I could finally go in peace, knowing you had a wife. A good girl by your side. But now…”

He saw it with his own eyes—that Bucky and you were a perfect match. Turns out, it was all a lie. It broke him.

“Tell me,” Paul said, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation, “does she mean anything to you? Or was it just a contract?”

Bucky hesitated, the weight of the question pressing down on him. He opened his mouth but no words came out.

Paul’s eyes narrowed, his disappointment deepening. “You know what? She was right to leave you for a single dollar.”

The words hit Bucky like a slap. His fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening. Everyone seemed to blame him for your departure—Grace, the agency, and now his own grandfather. What did I do that was so wrong?

He finally snapped. “If she didn’t mean anything to me, would I have walked out of a $100 billion meeting to go ask where she is?”

It hurt even more because he had lost his best friend. A wife was just a word to him, but a best friend? Yes. Yes, you were. You meant a lot to him, and to his grandfather as well. And you just left without a proper goodbye, as if he didn’t deserve one. He needed answers.

He even skipped a meeting worth billions of dollars. For him to miss it means you are worth more than billions to him.

Paul’s eyes widened, his expression shifting from anger to realization.

“Then what are you doing here?” Paul barked, his voice regaining its edge. “Go find her!”

Bucky stood, stunned into silence.

“Don’t come back until you’ve found her!” Paul continued, pointing toward the door. “And forget about the company. It can survive without you. She’s the one you need to fix this with.”

Bucky nodded stiffly, his expression a mix of determination and frustration. Without another word, he turned and strode out of the study, leaving Paul alone by the fire.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

As Bucky stepped out of his grandfather’s house, the weight of the conversation still hanging over him, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration before answering.

"Sir," came the voice of his head of security.

Bucky sighed, exhaustion creeping into his bones. "Tell me at least some good news," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"We found her."

The words hit him like a jolt of electricity. His pulse quickened, and for the first time in what felt like ages, a flicker of hope lit in his chest.

Bucky straightened up, his posture shifting from defeat to determination. "Where is she?" His voice was sharper now, his body leaning forward, eager for any hint of where you might be.

This was the news he’d been waiting for, the answer he desperately needed.

Join the taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@bellamoret

@bucky-baby-barnes

@greatenthusiasttidalwave

@paryl

@pattiemac1

@kjah97

@danzer8705

@singsosworld

@mrsnikstan

@vicmc624

@cjand10

@wintercrows

@winchestert101

@rethasavedlives

@sjsmith56

@sarcasmoverlordxo

@buckybarnesfic

@angstangstbabeh

@everythingmybeloved

@tofuonfaiya

@longpondlibrary

@marvel-wifey-86

@jeremyrennermakesmesmile

@tasersloth

@diffidentphantom

@pklol

@ellosmile

@sebastians-love

@irishhappiness

@kmc1989

@440mxs-wife

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Editing Part 5: The Structural Pass

Okay, by now you've nailed down how you want your plot, characters, and worldbuilding to be. If you haven't by now, it's a good time to format your document into manuscript format if you plan to move forward to publish in any form.

When it comes to structure, what you're really focusing on is readability. If the format of your book is a slog to get through, if your paragraphs are too long or your sentences are all the same. This will lose readers otherwise in love with your plot.

Dialogue

Dialogue heavy scenes are very fun to write, but pages of dialogue with no action can also be exhausting. Break up your dialogue heavy scenes with actions and descriptions. How does the character's body language reflect their feelings on the discussion? Can you give them a task (picking a lock, chopping onions) that allow you to add to the scene (fumbling when frustrated, dicing harder when angry)?

One mistake (that I've made plenty of times) is to have characters doing things for the sake of doing them. But this is an opportunity to add details that add to your plot (the normally awful cafeteria green beans are delicious, a clue to solving the murder!), character (an alien crewmember is trying to copy human expressions to seem more personable, but his many teeth just freak people out), and world-building and setting (Laura is ranting about her ex, but Tara is distracted by how soulless her rich mother's house seems).

Scene Lengths

Are your scenes running too long? Do they start in the wrong place? (Two paragraphs on making coffee instead of "She was making coffee when George burst in.") Tightening up your scenes will do a great deal to make your book better.

This is easy advice to give and harder to picture doing, I've found. Everything often feels essential to a scene. Try to tackle scenes with the following questions:

What is the point of the scene? (George tells Susan his wife left him for Keanu Reeves.)

Where does the action start? (When George burst through the door without knocking.)

What is the goal of the scene? (Susan starts to suspect George of murdering his wife.)

Where does the action end? (George leaves.)

Where should the scene end? - This answer depends entirely on what you need to happen next. Maybe you have another page and a half of Susan musing about her suspicions right there in the kitchen. But maybe this will be more impactful in the next scene, where Susan is snooping in the garden and happens to find something George's wife would never leave behind.

Varying Paragraphs and Sentences

Pull back and look at your pages. Are all the paragraphs the same length? Do you fall into using the same pattern of sentences over and over? (Guilty) Have you used the same word four times in a single paragraph to describe something? (Double guilty) Break those chunks up, what for those repeat words, and vary your sentences. This is going to help so much with issues you weren't aware of.

Chapters and Word Count

There are many ways to do chapters, but you want to keep an eye out for chapters that are going too long (giving your reader a visual break of a chapter ending can help shift the setting and tone) or too short (have you accomplished everything you need?) This is not a knock on either structure done on purpose - this is to catch something you may have overlooked.

When it comes to word count, industry standards are always a good baseline to go with. Your audience often approaches a genre with certain expectations, and while you can make a doorstopper of a romance, you will find more readers by sticking to the 80-100k range.

[unperson42]

I am going to add, as somebody who loved Daggeffall an unhealthy amount back in the day, that this feels like a modern Bethesda problem to me. Back in the 90s, and especially with Daggerfall, Bethesda's main stories actually felt like it made sense with moral ambiguity of the lore.

You are sent on a mission by a king to solve a mystery about an undead king, but also to find a super weapon, the Numidium. When you find it, it is up to you to decide which of the many factions around the Dagger Bay gets to control it. The thing is, no matter who you give it to, it is clear that a great deal of death and destruction is the result. Arguably, the exception is if you give it to the Underking, an ancient lich who uses it to allow himself to die, destroying the Numidium in the process. This also creates a several mile radius where magic no longer works.

This moral ambiguity is, in many ways, done even better in Morrowind, where there are more factions, and the interplay between them is more complicated.

What's interesting is that Daggerfall was the first game to have lore books, and it had a lot of them. In fact most of the lore books in subsequent Elder Scrolls games come, unaltered, from Daggerfall. Many of the rest come from Morrowind. In Dagerfall, it all adds to the theme of history being written by the victors and those in power being inherently shitty on some level. It was later games where the main plot loses a fair bit of this ambiguity, but it still uses the Daggerfall lore books. This makes sense, since why not flesh out the world using the work that was already done. However, it does lead to a tonal disconnect, now that the books are not tying into the themes of the specific game they are in.

The character of Uriel Septim is kind of the embodiment of this for me. In Daggerfall he is the king who sends you to retrieve the weapon for his own ends, while also being less than honest about this. In Oblivion, he is presented as the good king whose death starts the all the problems. Don't get me wrong, I love Oblivion a lot, but the main plot has several major flaws, this moral oversimplofication being one of them.

(It's not relevant here, but another is that Martin Septim has the final boss fight with Mehrunes Dagon while you watch, which left me feeling a bit useless)

There are no Elder Scrolls games I dislike, but I do think the simplification of the stories, and specifically their moral element, is an unfortunate side effect of continuing to carry forward the books from the earlier games.

Elder Scrolls is fascinating to me because the vast majority of the background information of the setting is very obviously written by people with an admirably clear-eyed understanding of how history is mainly just groups genociding the shit out of each other before constructing post-hoc rationalizations of why that was a cool and good thing to do, if they bother justifying anything beyond the level of Might Makes Right. And then the actual main quest plots are often operating at Sword Hero Cleanses The Undesirables levels of These Are The Bad Guys, Kill Them Because We Said So

[eclipseberrycake]

Poly! MoonBerryCake x Reader Pt. 7

AN: The long awaited part 7. Before anyone fears, no this isn't the end of the series don't you worry. I don't have many ideas for the next few parts, but I'm sure I'll think of something or one of you can help!

Also how do we feel about giving Reader a tail? /gen I have a few ideas I've been toying with with reader having a tail, but I don't want to cross the line between too self indulgent and reflecting of my character, rather than trying to be as inclusive as possible.

-> Part One -> Part Two -> Part Three -> Part Four -> Part Five -> Part Six -> Part Six 1/2

Warnings: Depictions of past trauma/ injury, past depictions of being turned into a Twisted/ seeing a loved one as a twisted/ recovering from being a Twisted, mentions of vomit, past depictions of losing a lost one, talk of scars (In a positive light, but just in case!)

☁ The first few nights were hard. So, so incredibly hard. Not by any fault of your own, oh absolutely not, but that didn't make the nights any less taxing or offer them anymore rest.

☁ There were a few times you offered tearfully to sleep in your old room so they could hopefully get some rest, each one shot down with a stern No'. The mere thought of having you out of their line of sight was more than their nerves could take, especially somewhere where they couldn't reach immediately? Hard Pass.

☁ The first night was by far the worst. Cosmo can't say he really remembers recovering from being a twisted, but there was one thing that stuck out for him during the entire process. And that was you. You were there the entire time, gently pressing cool cloths to his forehead, helping him sip water, even keeping saltine crackers on hand in case his temporarily fickle stomach decided that food was somewhat acceptable.

☁ You were the same with Astro and Sprout as well, ensuring the recovery, as awful as it was, was still as seamless as you could make it. If there was one thing he did remember about healing from being a twisted, is that he would never wish it upon another being. Much less you.

☁ The first night you're returned, you're rushed to med-bay as a flurry of commotion happens. Those left behind are eager to see if you've been returned, especially poor Toodles who took your turning hard. She's holding Blu when they rush past, tears in her large eyes, but Rodger is quick to turn her away.

☁ Sprout is already barking orders with Ginger meeting them halfway, first aid kit in hand. They had given you minimal attention in the ride up, but they didn't have the time, space or resources necessary to give you proper medical attention.

☁ It's a flurry of action that follows right after. Astro stays up by your head, wiping the ichor that stained your mouth and clumped your fur. His cheeks are shiny as he does it, shaking his head every now and then before continuing his actions.

☁ Cosmo barely remembers all he did that night, there was so much that needed done. That wound you had received from-...From when you turned into a twisted had never closed, the excess ichor from being a twisted keeping you alive. It was an awful, horrid thought, but not one they could ignore as Cosmo hurriedly worked alongside his cousin to close it. Sprout busied himself with working on the claw marks across your face you had made in your confused state. Every bit he seemed to do made his grimace deepen. He wasn't sure what the other was seeing, but currently wasn't certain he wanted to know during this moment.

☁ Your teeth still remained sharp as you groaned in pain throughout the process, hands reaching back up to swat at the insistent burden yanking on your wounds, only for them to be caught by Shelly, who had followed to offer her help.

☁ She had felt awful about the entire situation, regardless if you would've done it either way. Vee as well, though she stayed further back to avoid getting in the way. Shelly's tougher skin made her more resistant to your claws and slashes, so she was a welcome helper, even if it made the working space a bit more cramped.

☁ Seeing you hurt like that was an awful feeling. Cosmo remembers feeling the bile burn at the back of his throat that night, increasing in every little noise or whimper of pain you made. Even when the worst was handled, he had to step back for a moment, hiding in Astro's chest as Sprout continued wiping away what was left. The same grimace was on his features, one much more intense than what was usually there when he was in doctor mode.

☁ He didn't speak more on it until far after Shelly had taken her leave with a tearful well wishes. Even then, the berry had only dragged a chair closer, hiding his face in his hands. Neither Astro nor himself knew where to go from there, and that just made them feel all the more worse as you seemed to fall into a fitful unconsciousness.

☁ Cosmo wasn't sure if it counted as sleep, honestly, not with how you still shook.

☁ "They have so many scars." Sprout finally spoke up, voice wavering before it cracked as he smoothed back his leaves, letting them fall back into place. "They hide them under their fur. How did-..." Sprout swallowed tightly at this before looking up at them with teary eyes. "How did we miss that?"

☁ Neither waited for a moment further before rounding around the medical bed to wrap their arms around the berry. He was tricky when it came to emotions, especially since this entire thing began, flickering between anger and denial like a coin, to see him break down like that was rare.

☁ "It's easy to miss." Cosmo nearly choked on the words, tears welling in his eyes as he flickered between watching your chest rise and fall to the floor. There was a crack in one of the tiles. You'd want that fixed, so no one tripped. He'd make not of it later. "Their fur covers it-"

☁ "Is that really an excuse?" Sprout cuts back in, his own eyes watching you in the same clinical way Cosmo found himself doing it. "For the others maybe. But us?"

☁ Cosmo couldn't find any rebuttal, swallowing tightly. He knows he himself has spent countless hours with his fingers running along your fur, playing with the stands and drawing shapes against the grain of it. He just never really focused on the skin beneath because he truthfully didn't think too. Looking back, maybe that was on him. He should've done better, done something more-

☁ "I don't think anyone's at fault." Astro's comment cut through the sudden silence. He had been dreadfully silent since getting back from the run so to hear him sound so exhausted was...jarring. He always had a sleepy, tired lilt to his voice, but to hear it like that made Cosmo's tail curl tighter against his back.

☁ Silence fell again before Astro was continuing. "I think, to a degree, it would be...more questionable if they didn't have any. They've been doing this far longer than you, me or even Cosmo's been in the picture. We can't stop them, but we can support them however possible as we have been." Astro swallows for a moment, using a star shard to bring a box of tissues closer. He takes one, wiping under his eye before setting it to the side. "They will always be like this. They'll be our self-sacrificing idiot who doesn't know when to stop, but that's why we fell in love with them. We can't change them and I hope none of us would try. Their scars are part of who they are. We-...I love every part of them, even the parts they may not love as much. Those parts we just have to love a little extra."

☁ The words stand, nearly tangible in the air for a long while. He's right. There are very few times when Astro isn't, but it's a jarring notion to understand what you truly went through. Even Cosmo himself hadn't known how long you and Poppy and Boxten had been doing it since he wasn't even the first returned. No, by the time he had been recovered, Finn, Shrimpo and Rodger had been well acquainted parts of the group and you had become comfortable in your role as a distractor.

☁ He wonders just how much of the burden you've carried silently with you. He's terrified of the answer you'd give if he asked.

☁ "I do...I do love them." Sprout choked, as if that was ever being brought into question. "I just- What if they hurt? What if every time we ask them to distract they're just a constant reminder of every past failure to them? They've done so much for all of us. Who are we to ask anything more?"

☁ "Like Astro said, it's who they are. I think if they truly didn't want to distract, they wouldn't. And I hope they would feel safe enough to come to us if the scars were causing them pain." The first tear falls down Cosmo's cheek, which is quickly wiped with a star shard covered in a tissue. "I mean, for heaven's sake, they turned into a twisted to save Vee on a run to save Shelly. If that's not the most selfless thing I've seen, I don't know what is."

☁ "Truthfully, I think I rather would've dealt with Vee's Twisted then theirs." Astro deadpans only to immediately flush a navy blue as Sprout cackles, Cosmo hiding his own laughs behind a hand. Astro practically swallows his tongue as he's quick to try and amend it with, "Not that I would wish that on any of us!"

☁ Sprout shakes his head as he finally leans back, his own cheeks shiny- which the star shard tries to wipe at only to get swatted at, making Astro pout. Both of Sprout's arms reach around to hook around both Cosmo and Astro as he takes a final deep breath. "We'll talk with them. Maybe now they'll see reason. Because yeah. I'm not dealing with that again."

☁ "They were so scary!" Cosmo whines, leaning on Sprout's shoulder. "But also-...Hear me out-"

☁ "Stoooop." Sprout groans, tipping his head back as Astro nods solemnly. "I'm hearing."

☁ Cosmo laughs at this before you're suddenly jumping up, cheeks puffed and they already know what that entails. Cosmo grabs the nearest trash can while Astro gently pulls back anything that could get in the way while Sprout makes for the nearest medication cabinet.

☁ Cosmo holds the trash can for you as you purge the excess ichor in your body, watching your heaves with a heartbroken glance while Astro rubs your back, even if he himself looks nauseous at the sight and sounds. He's quick to switch with Sprout when he returns, measuring out the stomach medication the berry had grabbed. It had aided the rest of them when it came to rejecting the ichor and they hoped it would with you too.

☁ In the very least, as awful as it was, it was a good sight to see as it meant you were recovering in the very least. Even if your heaves sounded painful and tears tracked down your cheeks. It would a pattern that would continue throughout the night unfortunately, which they would need to stay up to assist you with, but it was a chore they were more than happy to do. You had been the one to sit with each of them throughout the night, making sure they had all the comfort you could offer at the time.

☁ So even as the minutes ticked like hours, they knew it was all worth it. Every trip to empty the trash cash, every startled awakening at the sound of your gags, every wince as you pleaded for mercy. Anything to get you back.

☁ The following days are better. The next morning, right before it could be qualified as noon, you were cognizant enough to recognize where you were, eyes unfocused as you swayed, trying to sit up only for that to be one of the worst ideas you've ever had.

☁ The boyfriend on duty is quick to come to your side, with a hand on your back as soft whispers buzzed in your ear. You curled in on yourself, eyes scrunching shut before a deep breath had you finally stabilizing enough you could blink your eyes. Sprout was right there, offering you a gentle smile as he tried to figure out what exactly you were seeing.

☁ You practically threw yourself at him, pulling him close as tears burned your eyes. You cried into his scarf as his hands slowly curled back around you, squeezing you tightly to his chest as his own shoulders shook. "Oh. bud, I've missed you."

☁ "I'm sorry." You blab. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." You cry, squeezing him tighter when it almost seems like he's going to pull away. You don't remember much about your time as a twisted except for spotting Sprout and smelling the ichor of a non-twisted toon being spilt. You prayed it wasn't you to cause that wound, that there was no wound at all, but subtly looking at his arm quickly dashes that hope.

☁ "No, no, bud you did nothing wrong." This time you allow him to pull away, only for his hands to cup your cheeks. "You're just as perfect as you always are." His green eyes shine with unshed tears, which quickly rectify that by trailing down his freckled cheeks. You sob at the sight, your own hands- with nails longer than you normally keep them- cupping his cheeks.

☁ Sprout crashed his lips against yours in a show of desperation, tears making the kiss taste salty as your shoulders fall in relief. IF he was okay, the others had to be okay, right? They had to be? You didn't hurt them too, did you? You prayed not.

☁ Pulling away, you angled his chin every which way, scanning his face as he gave you a few watery chuckles. "You're okay? All leaves, limbs and seeds?"

☁ Sprout caught your hands, pulling them down so he could look at you, nothing but sweet, adoring love in his eyes. "Leaves, limbs and seeds all attached." He coos, laying his forehead on yours as his shoulders heave with a long heavy sigh. "Oh, bud. You're okay."

☁ "You're not." You frown, feeling the tears threaten to burst out all over again. "I'm-"

☁ "It wasn't you." Sprout interrupts, making you blink. "No, a twisted flutter got me, but you? Even a twisted, you've proven you'll still protect us." His smile is sad, but relieved as you feel your stomach finally settle.

☁ You get a few moments more before the door is being slammed open, but not by another toon. No, it must've been ajar, because who else is waiting there but Blu herself, looking as grumpy as the day she accidentally fell into the snow in Bobette's shop, mewing in long, interrupted yowls as she trotted to the medical bed, jumping up and immediately crawling all over you.

☁ Sprout tried to grab her, but you waved him off, scooping up the baby and letting her place her paw on your cheek. You cooed at her, nuzzling your nose against her cold, wet one. She mewled once more before it delved into a purr, making you snicker. "I know, tell me all about how unfair your dads are."

☁ "Oi!" Sprout immediately called, looking only mildly offended before footsteps had you both looking over at the doorway once more. Cosmo was there, already panting as he leaned his head against the doorway. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, she was sleeping and then suddenly just took off and-" He looked up at that point, only for his mouth to gape open. He stilled for a second as Astro popped his head in, looking at the pastry. "Did you find-"

☁ He too was left slack-jawed before Cosmo was moving and he was following, both wrapping you in tight hugs and a flurry of kisses. It was comforting and perfect, and enough to make you forget about how awful your stomach felt.

☁ They were quick to fill you in on everything that had happened in your absence and, honestly? Hearing Astro talk about having his best friend back made your heart thrum and how happy he seemed, moreso now that he had everyone in his little family back at long last.

☁ While your side still hurt and your muscles still sung from the strain put on them. being wrapped between them felt safe. Safer than you've felt since the moment of pure terror that wracked your entire nervous system the second you knew only one of you would make it to the elevator.

☁ Still, you knew there was something on the horizon. A discussion that needed to be had and it made whatever was left in your gut churn and rot further than it already had.

☁ It didn't come until later that night when you were finally back in your room, eating something soft and easy to digest (My personal fav is oatmeal but I know now everyone can eat that so y'all get to choose <3), chatting with Cosmo when a knock at the door made you look up.

☁ Astro had popped his head in, scanning for your form before immediately relaxing when he spotted you. "Are you okay with a few visitors? Absolutely feel free to say no."

☁ You honestly hadn't expected anyone to visit you, really. Goob and Scraps had both had their own tearful reunions with you, Goob especially, and Poppy and Boxten had visited as well. You weren't overly close with anyone else, but while confused, you nodded.

☁ Astro scanned you for a second, as if to see if you were lying, but when he found nothing he stepped more fully inside. Sprout followed, immediately wounding to your side and pressing a peck to your lips. You smiled at him before looking back over, eyes widening at the two toons standing there.

☁ Shelly looked nervous, but waved even as her smile wavered, her tail giving a small, short little wag. Vee looked miserable if you were honest. You had never seen the main so...upset, making you frown. Was she upset with you? You know you probably shouldn't have pushed her, but you had no other option at the time!

☁ Astro took his own spot beside, across from where Sprout had moved to sit beside Cosmo.

☁ "It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Shelly begins, tapping her fingers together before meeting your eye. "I wanted to thank you personally. And apologize. It was me you were retrieving and-"

☁ "And it wouldn't have happened if I had just picked up the pace." Vee cuts in. She makes it a point not to look at you, making you frown, fingers curling around your blanket. Vee let out a sigh, antennae giving a little spark as she wrapped her arms around herself. "I'm...So, so so-"

☁ "You have nothing to apologize for." You hold up a hand, scrunching your features. "I made my choice. You had nothing to do with what i decided. I promise. i never would've done something if it wasn't something I was sure about doing. There was never a moment I was upset with you, either of you." You're quick to reassure, sending them both a smile. Shelly returns it quickly, but Vee only gives you a glance and you frown.

☁ That was Sprout's best friend. You knew you didn't have to get along with everyone, but you wanted to get along with these two especially.

☁ Shelly seemed relieved at least, which made Astro relax at least a bit, but that wasn't enough for you. "I promise, Vee. If anything I owe you all an apology." You wilted a bit, even if Vee finally looked at you. "My twisted is...not the best, even I could admit that and I should've planned with the twisteds better rather than risk putting you guys in that situation. So for that, I apologize." You continue, continuing even if Vee looks like she's going to cut in. "It's happened, and it's fixed already. We can just blame whoever started the Ichor operation rather than try to keep playing this 'who can blame themself the most' game."

☁ Vee gapes and you smile at her softly, opening your arms. "Hug it out with me? Therefore all is forgiven and we can't blame ourselves anymore." The television looks at you, then at Shelly, then Sprout before her shoulders fall and she's slumping forward. You wrap your arms around her, feeling the chill of her metal plates. Looking over, you make eye contact with Shelly, who smiles sadly at the action. You open one of your arms and the fossil is immediately burrowing into the hug as well with her tail whapping about.

☁ When you separate, they take their leave not soon after, seemingly much lighter than when they came in. But then you're left with the other three. Astro's who's already sitting beside you, but the other two crawl onto the bed so you're all sitting in a circle of types.

☁ Your eyes dart from one to the next to the next before falling to where your knuckles are white around the blanket, having returned to clutching the fabric. You have to actively uncurl your fingers.

☁ You know there's probably tons to discuss, but you don't even know where to start.

☁ So Sprout does. He's never one to beat around the bush, especially looking back to before you all were together, and it's something you greatly admire about the berry.

☁ "We saw the scars." Is all he says, his own eyes remaining downcast as he plays with his scarf. You swallow, debating your options before breathing out, letting down the walls you normally kept up around everyone else.

☁ "Most of them are front the beginning." You admit. "I wasn't a good distractor then. I wasn't even really okay. I did it when we absolutely needed one. We had none of the trinkets we do now and didn't even think about them at the time. So I was an extractor and Cosmo knows that me extracting is like teaching a fish to fly." You spill immediately, thinking back to the lacerations that once marred your skin. "I'm sorry if they bothered you. I tried to keep them as covered up as possible. in case they...upset you all"

☁ "It's not the fact that their there, starlight. Well, I mean, that's kind of part of it, but...Why didn't you tell us?" Astro prods, laying a hand on you knee as another gentle rubs your shoulder. You bristle at the question, rolling your shoulders for a second before responding.

☁ "They aren't number one on my list of discussion topics. I'd rather forget about them personally." Simple as that.

☁ There's silence for a second before Cosmo is raising his hand, pointing to a white line that circles around his forearm. "This is from my time as a twisted. You'd remember best, but my hand was all sorts of messed up, right?"

☁ You nod at this and he points to his eye, with a matching line circling around it, so faint if he wasn't pulling attention to it, most wouldn't notice. "Half my face too, right?"

☁ You nod once more and he mimics the action. "Are you ashamed of my scars?"

☁ "No!" You're quick to bark, immediately ready to quell any worries he has, but Cosmo isn't done, pointing to Sprout- who blinks at the finger like it personally offended him. "What about Sprout? He has his own scars. You ashamed of those?"

☁ "No, Cosmo that's not-"

☁ "Then what about Astro? He's got his fair share too." The pastry points to one of the hands on your knees, which indeed had it's own smattering of scars from his time as a twisted.

☁ "No." You stare him down, gaze hard as he meets your own just as challenging. "Then why does that change for you?" You don't have an immediate answer, and Cosmo pounces on that. "What makes your scars different from ours? Why would we ever be ashamed of your scars, of your journey, when you would never dream of even thinking about that of ours?"

☁ You gape at him, trying to find some sort of defense, but you can't. He seems satisfied at that, but it's not for long as you're speaking once more.

☁ "Mine were self-inflicted." You avoid looking at them, even as your heart practically chokes you. "You never signed up to be a twisted. I willingly trained and worked to become a distractor. These come with the territory."

☁ There's silence for a second before Sprout is speaking once more. "Do they hurt?"

☁ You frown at the question, but shake your head. "No. They don't."

☁ Sprout exhales in relief at this before leaning back on his palms. "This isn't meant to make you feel any type of way about them, bud. They're yours and we understand better than most that scars can bring...complicated feelings. There's just...so many. We just want you to care a little more about yourself."

☁ "Seeing you in danger all the time is hard on his heart." Astro gently jokes, even if he gets a light kick in return for the jab. The celestial takes a breath before leaning on your shoulder, one of his hands reaching to hold your own. "We just want you safe, starlight, above all else. The bed's too big for three of us."

☁ You take a breath that quivered in your lungs before nodding slowly. You had expressed to Astro before how terrified you were of your own twisted and never wished to expose it to them, but did so anyway.

☁ You could only imagine the fear they were feeling the entire time, especially on the retrieval.

☁ "I'm sorry. Not for doing what I did, I don't regret and never will." You began, finally looking back up at them. "But I agree. I've been a bit careless. It's a distractor's job to keep the twisteds occupied, but not by being a dumbass. I don't want to give up distracting though." By the end you're practically pleading.

☁ "And we would never ask you too." Sprout gives you a soft smile. "Even if you stress me the fuck out, you enjoy it. Just...maybe keep the distance between you and the twisteds a bit bigger. And keep an escape route open whenever possible. And a bandage on hand. And a can of pop. And-"

☁ You laugh, wiping your tears as you shake your head. "I get it. I'm sorry I scared you all."

☁ "Just remind us to never piss you off." Cosmo shakes his head. "You're scary when angry. Although, watching you protect Sprout like that-"

☁ "We are not having this conversation again!" Sprout immediately shuts down, hitting the pastry in the face with a pillow, quickly getting a swift hit in retaliation. The two tussle for a second, making you give a wet laugh as Astro nuzzles into you. Your finger taps on the back of his hand, silently asking for an explanation.

☁ He hums in acknowledgement at the unasked question, moving to kiss your shoulder. "You're hot in all forms. Cosmo especially likes your protective side."

☁ This makes you bark out a laugh, calling the attention of the other two back to you.

☁ "What are you laughing at?" Sprout grinned, straddling Cosmo who was squirming under the hand on his forehead keeping him pinned down.

☁ "You're all such dorks." You snicker, grinning before holding your hands out to them. "Hugs?"

☁ You're only able to let out a yelp at Sprout turns instead pull you into his chest, the other two also wrapped in the absolute bear hug. It makes your heart thrum happily, especially when Blu manages to pop her head up in a crevice and mew her greetings happily.

☁ So even while the first few nights were hard, as you lay there, wrapped in the embrace of your boys and feeling their laughter once more, you know that tonight won't be nearly as so.

☁ And if absolutely nothing else, that was what made it all worth it.

AN: Guys, remember how I made that joke (It wasn't a joke) about hating that Rodger and taking it out on their Bobette? GUESS WHO'S NOW A MARKETABLE PLUSH >:) Huge huge huge shoutout to @belifbel

RAHH LOOK AT THEM

[taddymason]

Thinking about Jay’s role in the team, and I know I’ve mentioned before that Jay’s main themes are family, and that if given the choice between his close circle of loved ones and the greater good he’ll choose the former, but also another thing that sets him apart from everyone else is the reason why he’s a ninja. With characters like Zane and Cole it’s mentioned multiple times that their purpose is to take care of others, those who can’t protect themselves. Nya and Kai also have this duty/responsibility theme that makes a lot of sense considering the circumstances they both grew up in, and that they both have in common that they want to prove themselves at first and then focus on the role that “they’re supposed to” play (aka; Kai accepting that his role isn’t to be the green ninja and that his duty is to protect Lloyd, and Nya accepting to stop being the samurai X which was her way of proving herself even without being a ninja and in the end becoming the water ninja). Lloyd has a mix of all of this because he's constantly the chosen one in every situation since he was 10, and it's all he knows as a way of life, but back to the topic:

Jay has nothing to do with this.

And I'm not saying that Jay doesn't care about helping people, or anything like that. It's just that it's very interesting that he's the furthest away from having this motivation to be a ninja. Even Wu, in one of the books, confirms that Jay in the pilots saw the opportunity to be a ninja as an excuse to have exciting adventures after a rather humble life in which Jay was going from one hobby to another.

And while the other roles in the team always come back to the theme of protecting others and all that, the reason why Jay is chosen instead is because he's a dreamer. In the flashback and the Ninja of Lightning book Wu explains that the reason he chose Jay was precisely because he had this ability to think outside the box and motivate others with his sense of humor. In almost every first season there is an instance where Jay quickly adapts to a situation just by seeing the other side of things that others don't see, and having this amount of skills: He's the one who discovers how to do spinjitzu, who finds the temple of light, who adapts first to space/digiverse, who does best in the Ninja Roll episode, etc. It's not that Jay is the smartest or strongest, but give him anything and the guy, in some unconventional way, will try to take advantage of it and build a spaceship out of literal scrap metal.

There aren't really many examples of this in the later seasons, BUT, it's worth noting that Wu also chose him because Jay knows how to motivate others with his sense of humor. And what does he do in S12 when he's separated from the others and trapped in a video game? He makes a resistence to oppose Unagami and inspire people who were also trapped in that game.

With all that being said, I just wanted to point out how distinct Jay's role on the team is and his motivation for being a ninja in the first place. It's not like he has this heroic duty, or necessarily wants to do justice, he's just a guy with a normal life who wanted to have exciting adventures and tap into this creativity of his and do some good in the process if it ended up working out. Which is sad with how things are right now but whatever…

[camcat1320]

The Fortune-Teller does not deserve the hate it has received. It's actually a great episode that people misunderstand. Let me explain.

Kataangers love the episode for it says Katara is destined to be with Aang. Zutarians hate the episode for this reason along with forcing Katara into a pigeon hole. I stand between these warring tribes and say that they are both wrong.

To be clear, I am a Zutarian. If we would've had a Book 4 like the head writer had intended, this episode would've been integral for that book.

"But the 3-act story structure!" some may argue. A 3-act story structure is just a 4-act story structure in disguise.

Anyways, let's continue.

The destiny that Aunt Wu foretells does not give names and is vague in nature. She tells Katara that she is to be married to a powerful bender. She didn't say the most powerful nor did she say bender of all four elements. One doesn't have to be the Avatar to be a powerful bender.

Come Aang's fortune, she foretold of a great battle between good and evil that will determine the fate of the world. We immediately think of Aang battling Firelord Ozai to end the 100 year war. However, this fortune is vague and could foretell another battle after Ozai has fallen.

When Aunt Wu learns that Aang wants to learn about his future about love, she cheers him up by giving him a vague, seemingly harmless white lie to satisfy him. "Follow your heart and you will be with the one you love." Since Aang is 12, he can easily misconstrue infatuation for love.

I believe The Fortune-Teller is a giant red herring that many people in both Zutara and Kataang sectors have fallen for. But wait, what is a red herring?

In literature, a red herring is a device to throw the characters and the audience off the scent of future events. It's meant to distract and deceive.

At the end of The Fortune-Teller, Katara believes she is destined to be with Aang and Aang believes it as well. Throughout the remainder of the series, Katara's emotional bond with Aang is challenged. Then by The Ember Island Players, Katara is confused, unsure about her feelings, unsure about her destiny.

What other character struggled with his perception of his destiny?

For the majority of the series, Zuko falsely believed that his destiny was to hunt down the Avatar and regain his honor. We know that this destiny was forced upon him by his father, Ozai.

But as Iroh has said, "Destiny is a funny thing." Iroh had believed he would have been in Ba Sing Se as a conqueror but instead, he had liberated Ba Sing Se from Fire Nation occupation.

Zuko had turned against his father and his supposed destiny and set out to aid the Avatar instead. After this, Zuko's new belief is that it is his destiny to help Aang in defeating Ozai instead. Truly, destiny is funny that way.

But why is this only applied to Zuko? Why isn't this the same message given to Katara's arc? Is she truly destined to be with Aang and she cannot fight against this fate? Is this strong female character destined to be reduced to servitude?

The same girl that inspired imprisoned earthbenders to fight back? The same girl that fought against gender roles in her own culture? The same girl that didn't give into despair and led her crew out of the desert? The same girl that aided in healing a Fire Nation village? The same girl that rose above her mentor and used bloodbending to save her loved ones? The same girl that went toe to toe with Azula and won?

I SAY NAY!

Imagine, if you will, what Katara's continued arc could've been like in Book 4. Katara would've defied the destiny that was forced upon her and determined her destiny for herself. But in the end, destiny is a funny thing for this action only plays into fate. Zuko is a powerful bender after all. 👀

Now, I must depart before I give too many spoilers for my writing. Fare thee well, until we meet again!

[theladyeclectic79]

It’s strange: I played vanilla DA:I back in 2014 and was obsessed with the game, but Solas himself never really stood out to me. When I try to remember back a decade ago, I don’t know if I ever actually finished the game - I remember starting and restarting it because I loved it so much and didn’t want it to end.

I never played any of the DLC as life had moved on for me when it came out. The game was and remains my favorite of all time, but I never really connected with Solas. My love was Cullen and his romance, and I still maintain that it’s the best in the series.

That said however: the CHOKEHOLD this man has over me after playing Veilguard. I am currently replaying Inquisition, and the amount of foreshadowing that game has is… My god. Just regular dialogue option with Solas, knowing now what I do after Veilguard - I understand all you long-time Solavellan lovers (and I haven’t even gotten to the Trespasser DLC content yet).

Solas is one of the best written villains I’ve ever seen in a game. I don’t even know how to put into words just how perfect he is. Everything he’s done, EVERYTHING, came from a place of goodness; he wanted to do the right thing but there were no objectively GOOD options, just the least-bad. Rendering the Titans tranquil, creating the Veil; he did these to keep worse from happening, yet they were still objectively bad outcomes. Even now, wanting to remove the Veil will kill untold numbers, but all he can see is how many terrible things he done and wants to atone.

That he cannot see (or care?) what devastation it will create is because he can’t trust himself anymore. He has allowed himself to be swayed before: Mythal convincing him to become corporeal even knowing the risks for a spirit of Wisdom; letting Mythal set the pace with the Evanuris, and seeing her murdered by them. His entire life, he has been convinced not to pursue what he thought was right and was burned, so now he’s afraid to be swayed again and for something else terrible to happen.

And so he walks his Dinan’shiral alone, knowing his death is at the end. He never wanted to live, not like that. His life is regret upon regret; he just wants it to end, but is desperate to atone for all the things he’s done along the way.

He’s just…so compelling. Millenia of regrets, so many things he wanted that slipped through his fingers. He’s unbearably tragic in a way few characters in media are, a classic case of “live long enough and see yourself become the villain.” And he HATES this about himself, because all he wanted was to help.

So in the end, he’s stuck on the road he created for himself because he cannot trust himself to walk any other direction. Reversing the Veil is the only thing he can do; he cannot bring back those he betrayed, but he can give the future what they lost at least. He’s trying to be heroic, but his vision is so warped by a lifetime of betrayal, pride, and too-hard decisions that he won’t let himself see anything other than the end of the road.

I wonder if BioWare knew all along what they were creating with him. Dunno if there’ll be another villain this good in media for a long time to come.

[focuriousity25-blog]

fin. ... 6/6 ab5042qjq ... Welp, it's finally here. The sixth and final? entry of the main 'I Remember' limited comics. It's been a long and expensive journey since the release of Part 1, but I'm honestly happy to have seen it through to the end ^^ I realize, in many ways, this whole thing's just a glorified OC-insert and crossover, but, at the end of the day this just goes to show how much a series like Tales of Arcadia can mean to a person, how a good story and characters can inspire you and what you can take away from them upon reaching the end. Case in point, when TOA's saga ended with the "Rise of the Titans" movie, I think it's to say the majority, uh... wasn't too happy with how it all concluded, and I'll admit, the desire to create Luke stemmed from a desire to...okay, not exactly "fix" that frown-inducing ending, but, expand upon it in a way so it's at least a little bit less hair-pullingly frustrating; thanks a lot, Guillermo del Toro. xD Speaking of which, Luke's story and this little AU of mine will continue in other formats, but it may be quite some time before he appears in any more comics; hope that's understandable. x}

I want to also give a huge thank you to @muku-gc . When @undeadchestnut disappeared, they really did me a solid by stepping in to draw part six, thank you so SO much, friend ^^ One more, thank you to @roesavalonsigma for allowing me to cameo her special roleplay character, Roes Sigma, who was also something of a cornerstone for Luke, but that's another story ;) I may make a master post providing a link to each comic in order, we'll see. Until then...thanks for sticking with me, means a lot :) ~HSeeker

[cawslew]

[Tumblr ate my quality... give it back :(]

Ada's dorm assignments and Explanation's and a bit of Headcanon's under ⤵️

HEARTSLABYUL

Atsushi: I was struggling with choosing between Heartslabyul and Savannaclaw for him. I think Savannaclaw would fit better (the tenacity part, and the tiger thing), but in the end, I chose Heartslabyul because he values justice, responsibility, and doing what’s right, which fits well with the rule-oriented nature of Heartslabyul.

Kenji: I chose Heartslabyul mostly based on vibes. Kenji is a cheerful and easygoing person, but also has his own unique logic that feels like the chaotic side of Heartslabyul.

OCTAVINELLE

Dazai: I don't think much needs to be said… His charisma? Cunning personality? Talent for manipulation? Straight-up Octavinelle student, no question asked. Especially with how easily he reads people, charms them, and manages to make people do what he wants by smooth-talking.

Haruno: This was a bit of a challenge to choose for her. At first, I thought about Pomefiore, but we already had so many characters in there, so I decided against it. I also considered Savannaclaw and Scarabia, but they didn't quite fit. In the end, I stuck with Octavinelle purely because of Haruno's intellect. It also felt right to make her a vice housewarden in her dorm.

POMEFIORE

Kunikida: This choice was easy, just like Dazai's. The drive for perfectionism, discipline, and ideals—he’s the literal embodiment of Pomefiore. It felt perfect for a dorm that’s known for its image-conscious students. It also made sense to make him Housewarden (and a little poke at the fact that, in canon, he’s supposed to take over as head of the ADA).

Junichirou: I was heavily influenced by his gentle yet thoughtful demeanor and the protectiveness he shows (not only his obsessive care for Naomi, but also his willingness to stand up for others). Despite being a bit of a wimp, he’s protective and supportive. He’s also a vice housewarden to Kunikida.

Naomi: To be fair, I had a hard time choosing for her. At first, I thought maybe Heartslabyul would be good for her affectionate yet mischievous personality. Then I considered Octavinelle for her cunning and strategic side. In the end, I went with Pomefiore, blending her elegant and calculating nature. She’s charming, and her subtle manipulation would suit the dorm well. It also helps that Junichirou is here, as where he is, Naomi is likely to follow. But I do think she was probably in Octavinelle first and switched to Pomefiore less than a month later.

IGNIHYDE

Rampo: Another easy choice. He’s intelligent and prefers solitude, plus his amazing problem-solving fits Ignihyde perfectly. He’s brilliant and often dismissive of what he considers unnecessary social interactions, so this is 100% the right dorm for him.

DIASOMNIA

Yosano: Diasomnia is a very fierce dorm, often associated with strength, authority, and a commanding atmosphere, which perfectly suits Yosano. Not only is she fierce and strong, but her role as a housewarden also fits well with the dorm's atmosphere.

Kyouka: She’s resilient and carries strength with her despite her tragic past. As previously mentioned, Diasomnia is focused on power and overcoming inner turmoil (especially considering the storyline of Book 7), so it’s a great fit for Kyouka.

Diasomnia overall is just a perfect choice in that regard for both Yosano and Kyouka.

I might also do other organization's in this AU if I feel like it, haha Or maybe I should do it the other way around? TWST in BSD universe???

[infiniteglitterfall]

crib sheet for those not in the know:

the subtext of these twitter comments is that any mention of Israel, of places in Israel, or of going to Israel, is "Zionist propaganda"

Therefore, calling a Jewish-Indian household "Jaipur-Aviv" is Bad because it mentions Tel Aviv, a city built entirely from unoccupied desert land purchased by Jews.

this comes from the idea that acting as if Israel exists is immoral (i.e. that tolerating Israel's existence is violent colonialism)

There's no other country on earth that anyone considers it immoral or violent to mention

There isn't a movement against acknowledging or having visited the United States, Canada, England, Russia, Iran, Afghanistan, etc.

Zio is a KKK dogwhistle popularized by David Duke forty years ago. Using it makes it more difficult for others to recognize and avoid white supremacists -- and often means that you're not recognizing and avoiding white supremacists.

I've watched every episode of Friends ten times at a minimum. I am not exaggerating. I feel pretty safe in stating point-blank that nobody at any point even utters the word "Israel" on that show.

Also, Rachel is not Jewish. I am kinda dying to know what the fuck that person thought the "Zionist connotations" in their relationship were.

WAIT A MINUTE STOP THE PRESSES. RACHEL IS JEWISH!??!!!

lmao this is killing me, I used to be so sure she was Jewish and then I googled it and people said she wasn't!

The nose job subplot read as an intentionally Jewish regional reference; Rachel refers to her grandma as her bubbe; the show's creators have said she's Jewish; she had been going to marry Barry Farber, who is "definitely Jewish;" her last name is Green, "a common 'Americanized' Jewish name;" she apparently wears a star of David I've never spotted in episode 3; and also, her name is Rachel.

Okay well, thanks to the borderline Nazis up there for teaching me that Rachel actually IS Jewish! I knew I needed to rewatch the series!

Bonus: they don't say Israel, but they DO say Israeli once.

The Big Bang Theory apparently had an episode called The Jerusalem Duality, in which "Sheldon applies himself to winning the Nobel Peace Prize for solving the Middle East crisis by creating a second wailing wall (also called the 'Western Wall') in the Mexican desert. Dr. Gablehauser and Dennis Kim stop by. Sheldon explains his concept to them; convinced that, like the baseball movie 'build it and they will come', adding that he plans to lure the Jewish people by 'making it nice...we'll put out a spread'."

The only real references Big Bang Theory makes to Israel are, again, in the "acknowledging it exists and being willing to go there" genre:

The Nanny had a lot of topical political jokes. In one episode, Fran Drescher says, "Yasser Arafat? ...He could use a facial, or better yet a chemical peel. We're already giving him the Gaza Strip, would it kill him to take a shave?"

Weirdly, this was 8 years before Israel did unilaterally pull out of the Gaza Strip and destroy all its settlements there.

Regardless, this is more a joke about her character being overly focused on appearances and fashion. Especially given that she simultaneously gets corrected on the fact that Arafat wore a burnous, not a turban.

There's also a 1995 episode in which Maxwell wants to get his teenage daughter "away from boys" by sending her to a convent over the winter holidays. Fran strongly disagrees about the convent, but does think a trip would be good for Maggie, like her own teenage trip to a kibbutz had been. The whole family ends up going to a kibbutz, which I can only imagine the people in that thread would consider to be pure "hasbara."

Seinfeld, though, is by far the best reference they make here. Because this is a quote from the 1992 episode "The Limo":

This is the only "Zionist" reference I can find in Seinfeld. So it's the most likely thing these folks are objecting to as "Zionism" in Seinfeld episodes.

ZOG, or Zionist Occupied Government, is another huge white supremacist term that has made its way into the extreme part of the pro-palestine movement. The founder of Students for Justice in Palestine has also publicly stated that "Congress is an Israeli occupied territory."

Wow. I learned a lot more than I expected to there.

according to the replies on this tweet literally every tv show has Zionist Propaganda™️ so i guess the hamasniks are just going to have to twiddle their thumbs for entertainment

edit: some of the nonsense from the replies

do not call yourself progressive or inclusive or revolutionary or anticolonial or whatever other fucking “I’m A Good Person” label de jour you’ve chosen if you say shit like this. you cannot talk like a Nazi and then insist you’re just an antizionist.