#but he’s usually VERY AWARE of the stakes in these kinds of situations

[stevenuniversewatchthru]

People like to claim that season 5 Steven is a wimpy dork that wants to talk-no-jutsu his way out of every situation he’s in

But like. That’s only half-true. Steven doesn’t want to fight unless it’s completely necessary.

For the most part, he’s content with trying to find a way to settle conflicts violence-free, really only saving the bloodlust for when he’s facing down corrupted gems

AND THIS HAS BEEN A THING SINCE SEASON 1.

[revehae]

day and night (2)

pairing ↠ jeno x (f) reader x haechan

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon, mean!dom!jeno, implied sub!haechan, gun play, degradation, slapping, kidnapping, oral (m receiving), sadist!jeno, implied dacryphilia

summary ↠ weeks have passed since you’ve known freedom and you haven’t lost hope of going home, but jeno intends to whip you into shape. eventually, you resign yourself to the fact that your new home is with jeno and haechan, and a part of you begins to make peace with that.

wc ↠ 3.1k

a/n ↠ the second and final part of day and night. this is a repost!

don’t like it, don’t read.

it had been an uncertain amount of weeks since you last had a taste of freedom; though it felt like it had been months. at least you still knew the warmth of daylight. haechan, ever lenient, was sweet enough to allow you to step briefly outside on occasion, in the gated backyard where no one could see you and you could see no one.

and without jeno’s awareness, of course. as far as jeno was concerned, you spent your days there rotting alive at their control. part of you had been long-tempted to make noise, to scream help at the top of your lungs, because you knew that haechan would never hurt you. at least, not to the extent that jeno would. but you had a creeping feeling that he’d tell jeno, because after all, it was their lives and future at stake if anyone were to find out what they did to you. and jeno would be absolutely furious. in preference of not seeing jeno seething with rage any more of which you already had in the past few weeks—because every instance ended with you in a very compromising position—you very wisely decided to brainstorm a little more.

haechan was the subject of all of your various ideas, even the least lethal ones. you had abused his kindness from the moment you were brought into this situation, in your very futile efforts to convince haechan to tell you who was “forcing” him into the crime, and to let you go. he was a willing participant, you achingly learned and accepted, but you would improve your craft this time.

it was one of those nights - you were locked up inside your room and your captors were only god knows where. when haechan entered, you were dreadful, though unsurprised. you came to learn that your captors - him especially - were awfully needy. the long weeks consisted of fueling their need to get off and them using your body to their heart’s content. this was no different, although you appreciated that haechan was at least not intentionally rough. and he was fairly submissive to you. though he followed his needs very blindly, he still had some compassion for you.

haechan looked at you, eyes begging please. seeing as you had no other real choice, you gave in to his desires as per usual, but this time with a plan.

“f-fuck,” he moaned, utterly sensitive. the moment you sank down around him, haechan was weak. it always went like that; as if the barest touch could satisfy his never-ending needs. you knew that wasn’t true, though. haechan’s greed too often overcame him.

you flattened your palms against his stomach, feeling like you were at the top of the world from above him and every bit of him was a puzzle of the earth. his mouth where his pitchy whines spilled, his wincing eyes, and the heaving of his chest like a storming sea. haechan’s every characteristic was a mere advantage to you; his pleasure bound him. it sought control over his body which it successfully conquered, and that was his achilles heel. he could never deny what his body so desperately wanted.

at almost the height of his pleasure, you attacked. by now, it was too obvious to you when haechan was at the brink. the tremble in his body, his voice soaring in pitch. he simply couldn’t stay still nor quiet. “feel good?” you asked, already aware of the answer. he couldn’t speak through his moans, only nodding his head rapidly in response. “don’t you think i deserve a reward for making you feel so good, baby?”

haechan blinked, swallowing to wet his drying throat. whatever you wanted, the way that you called him baby had him ready to give you the whole world if he could. “reward?” 

“yeah,” you sighed, leaning down to gently press your lips to his neck in between your words, “you should let me go… we can rat jeno out and pin this all on him. and then you’ll have me all… to yourself. doesn’t that sound good? you can have me whenever you want and don’t have to share me.”

haechan gripped your hips, and in mere seconds he was cumming inside of you. he hadn’t yet verbally agreed, but that alone told you that he was likely on-board. if there was anything you had discovered during the span of these weeks, it was that haechan put his greed before anything.

and you felt victorious until another voice startled you. 

“well, bra-fucking-vo!” jeno whooped, though you knew his amusement was probably anything but sincere. your eyes widened and you crawled off of haechan, backing away as instant fear shot through your chest. if jeno had heard all of that, it went without a doubt that you were in for a punishment.

oh, this was a classic. either jeno excelled at being at the wrong place at the wrong time or this room was something of cursed, though either way, you hated it when this happened. granted, this was only the second time it had, but jeno had invoked enough fear in you from that day alone for you to dread him ever discovering even the thought of you trying to escape.

“j-jeno, i-”

“j-j-jeno, shut the fuck up,” he mocked, switching on a dime. you could see it clearly then - the rage burning like wildfire in his irises.

haechan had been startled, too. it seemed that he only clearly got back into his head when it was too late; when jeno appeared, and he realized just how terrible of a trance you had him in only mere moments ago. it was far too easy for you to hypnotize him and put him under your enticingly dark spells.

jeno shut the door behind him and then stormed over, but much to your surprise, he didn’t storm over to you. he grabbed haechan - who had very swiftly redressed - by his collar, growling, “you fucking idiot. does your dumbass really think she’s gonna let you off the hook just like that? no, she’s gonna turn you and i both in the very second she gets the fucking chance. think with your head instead of your tiny ass balls for once.”

immediately afterwards, jeno released him roughly, making haechan nearly fall back against the sheets. and then, he finally turned to you. you crawled back, pushing yourself away with your hands, yet you had nowhere you could run nor hide. “and you. boy, do i got something for you,” jeno chuckled, and swung his flat palm towards your face. you shut your eyes, but it never came. jeno paused mid-slap, then said in the midst of his rage, “you know what? i have a better idea.”

jeno left the room. you could only dread whatever idea had suddenly popped up inside his head, and the feeling only heightened when you saw him re-enter some moments later with a gun firm in his hand. the fear on your face made him laugh, but you brought it upon yourself anyways. if you had just been an obedient little plaything for them, he would have never needed to bring out the extremes. though, shockingly enough, he walked over and handed the gun to haechan, who stared at him in confusion. 

“you aren’t off the hook, baby,” jeno said mockingly, nudging haechan. “come on.”

haechan obediently followed him to the other side of the bed where you quivered and cowered. you weren’t the only one to be punished when it came down to displeasing jeno, and you probably wouldn’t believe him if he said that he knew that better than you did. 

jeno grabbed you by your neck, ordering sharply, “get on your knees.”

you dropped to your knees without hesitance, only willing to please him so urgently because you didn’t want to upset him further. and god, he was easily irritable.

“you’re going to suck me off,” he said simply, “and your baby here is gonna hold that gun to your head to keep you in compliance.” 

haechan’s eyes flashed with shock, and he quickly tried to dissuade jeno, “but-”

“no ‘but’s. do you wanna go to fucking prison? kiss your dreams goodbye?” jeno barked, to which haechan shook his head immediately. “then, do what the hell i said. simple as that.”

it took everything in you when you felt the gun being pressed to your head once again not to cry, but you didn’t want to show jeno any signs of weakness. he didn’t care if you sobbed and if anything, it probably got him off even more. sickly enough.

jeno kicked you with his foot, and you bit back a groan of pain. “fuck are you waiting for? get on with it.”

you obeyed, reaching for his pants and pulling them down his ankles. his underwear followed. you didn’t move with intention, heart racing so fast to the point where you hardly felt alive, detached from your body and only physically present. the fear born in you controlled your every move.

jeno was already half-hard, and you mindlessly pumped his dick, him going fully stiff in your palms before you knew it. you latched your lips onto him, drawing him into your mouth. you were at least grateful that he had left you with some control, in spite of the gun haechan was holding to the side of your head. you recalled the many times within the span of the past few weeks where he had given your mouth a rough fucking - stressed from practice and all those sorts of things and letting it out on you - until your throat had gone sore and you could do nothing but croak hoarsely when he fucked you full only moments after. at least for now, the pace was somewhat yours. 

or not. 

you went too slow. you didn’t mean to tease, but jeno surely took it as such. jeno grabbed the gun from haechan and pointed it at your temple himself, then very quickly pulled the trigger. when you heard the click, you prepared to meet your end, the frightened tears finally streaming warmly down your cheeks as the thought of freedom rolled into your brain. but nothing came, and when you glanced up at jeno, teary-eyed, his cock twitched in your mouth.

“that’s what happens when you tease,” jeno said, a wicked grin on his lips, and he handed the revolver back to haechan. “only one of the chambers is loaded. fuck around and find out which one is.” 

you didn’t want to do that, and so you upped your pace, trying your hardest to satisfy him. he tipped his head back, roughly yanking for a fistful of your hair and forcing your mouth deeper down his shaft.

when he opened his eyes back, he laughed. not at you, but at haechan, the one who tried to hurt you as little as possible. come to think of it, the only time he ever did was because of the influence of jeno, which was why his kindness was so easy to manipulate. if only jeno had never popped up when he did. you might have actually gotten away with it. instead, both you and haechan were being forced to do something you hated.

“haechan, your hands are shaking like crazy,” jeno remarked teasingly. then, he looked at you and mocked, “you better pray your baby doesn’t fuck around and kill you.”

it was that day you began to accept that you would never know freedom again.

jeno wanted to be sure you knew it, though, just so that you would never forget and in case you needed the rough reminder. and also because he simply loved the look on your face as all the hope was drained from it, and you realized once more that your fate lied in their hands.

once jeno found out about you and haechan’s backyard escapades, he forbid haechan from ever taking you back outside, allegedly because being out there was giving you ideas. and it was, but they ultimately always fell through, obviously, and most of them were too stupid to even dare be attempted.

on occasions where he was feeling extremely cruel, he would fuck you with the news channel playing in the background, forcing you to listen to the news anchor talk about your disappearance and how they were, fortunately enough, still searching for you, though the police had little leads. he would taunt, “soon, they’ll give up and stop looking. no one’s going to save you, whore.”

and that broke you like nothing else had. it stung to think that this was what had become of your life ever so suddenly, in the blink of an eye. this was the lifestyle that you were being forced to adapt to, one where you felt more like a pet than a person. a doll than anything even breathing and alive.

then, weeks became months, and you were beginning to see your captors in a different light. perhaps it was the lack of vitamin D and other human interactions getting to your head, but there came the realization that they were attractive. you had simply been too blinded by hatred to accept it. though now, you were becoming attracted to them.

soon, you began snooping around. usually they kept you barricaded upstairs (they took preliminary measures to ensure you couldn’t escape, locking the windows and doors and such.) so when you were certain that both of them were in class, you left your room and ventured into one of theirs. it was haechan’s that you entered, you realized sooner than later. the pictures of him and some of his friends or family on the walls, his gaming chair and console very telling. you ignored the box of tissues on his desk, glancing around elsewhere. it wasn’t tidy or messy, but you got the undying urge to clean, and that you did. in all honesty, you had nothing better to do. 

then, you went to jeno’s. his room was clean, surprisingly so, though also terribly bare. the only pictures he had were ones taken after his teams had won games and he was holding the trophy. he had a case busting at the seams with trophies from the endless amount of achievements he had made in his lifetime. to you, that part made sense.

“fuck are you doing?” 

you jumped, startled. though you weren’t surprised when you turned around and saw jeno standing at the door frame. scratch your bedroom being cursed - if they all weren’t, then he definitely just knew how to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. 3 times was certainly not a coincidence.

in an instant, you replied, “i wasn’t messing with anything, i swear-”

jeno burst into laughter. he liked it too much that you were afraid of him. all of the fear that flooded you in moments upon noticing his presence was what he lived for.

“were you gonna clean up my room, too?” jeno asked teasingly, stepping forward. for once, he didn’t seem mad. not that you had done anything to merit his anger - yet. so you only stood there, hoping he wouldn’t switch up. “like some fucking maid or something?”

gulping, you stammered, “i thought you were in class.”

“yeah, it got canceled last-minute,” he shrugged, now at your side and playing with your hair. something about his presence was constricting. you held your breath, unable to ignore that he was there almost whenever he stood in the same room as you. “we can do something better though, right?”

at the same time, you were so used to him lashing out and punishing you whenever he caught you doing something that this was too unfamiliar and didn’t feel right. sure, he was still mean enough to mock you, but jeno never played with your hair; he played with you. it was something haechan had gotten accustomed to, the more unshocking person. jeno’s every move aroused suspicion in you.

jeno pulled your hair a little roughly - reminding you that you forgot to respond - and asked again, more firmly, “right?”

and there it was.

“right,” you answered swiftly.

“knees.”

so down on your knees you went. you unfastened his belt and pulled down his clothes, and stroked him stiff. it was a well-practiced routine, though the difference now was that you seemed to suck him with greed, taking him in your mouth as if you hadn’t eaten in days (and as cruel as jeno could be, he never starved you). which did not go unnoticed by the man you knelt before.

“just like that. keep it up and maybe i’ll reward that stupid cunt of yours.”

and you hated that that excited you. you were only glad that he wasn’t inside of you, because he would have felt you tightening around his dick if he was being needy, or his fingers if he was being nice.

much like haechan, jeno also had obvious signs of being close to the edge. when you were giving him head, he liked to grip your hair and take matters into his own hands, quite literally, guiding your way around his cock until he came. nothing had changed today. he was groaning, pulling you down further down. he didn’t care if you gagged, either. it was none of his concern if you couldn’t breathe. he had one goal and that was to use your mouth for his pleasure.

and he liked to see you swallow. so, when he came, that was what you did, but some of his cum streamed down your chin and dripped onto the floor in a tiny puddle.

you tried to stand, but jeno pulled back down. you glanced at him, confused, but he only shot you an expecting look. “where do you think you’re going? you have a mess to clean.” 

your eyes flickered a couple of times, and then you realized he meant the puddle. “i can go get some napkins,” you said, trying to stand again. 

jeno didn’t allow it, pulling you again, and with a fistful of your hair in his clutch, he lowered your head down to the floor, ordering sharply. “clean. it.”

after you blinked a couple of times, that was when you realized what he meant. and the more you waited around, the more violent he got, lifting your head and slamming it back down, just above the floor to give you a scare. so you did as told, licking the puddle away with your tongue. easily one of the most shameful things you’ve done.

you didn’t realize he was recording until you were finally able to lift your head up, and saw his camera pointed in your face. “haechan’s gonna lose his fucking mind,” jeno chuckled. “should we give him a show?”

[redbirdandbluebird23]

To Bite or not to Bite

Masterlist

Written for the Batman Halloween Bash 2024 (@wait-whos-batman) in collaboration with @graytodd whose art can be found here!

“So, are we talking like a full Dracula situation, or like a Twilight situation? Because they’re completely different scenarios.” Jason says, trying to suppress the urge to laugh hysterically because while there were a lot of things he was prepared for tonight, this was absolutely not one of them. Haley continues winding around his ankles, trying to get his attention, but Jason can’t shift his focus from Dick right now. 

Dick gives him a scathing look from where he’s sat on the floor on the other side of the room, still looking like he’s ready to bolt out of the window if Jason tries getting any closer. 

“You can give me that look all you want, but I think it’s a relevant worry. Like are you going to need to sleep in a coffin or shit like that? What exactly do I need to know here?” Jason asks, shifting very slowly further into the room, not missing the way Dick’s eyes are tracking him with an unnatural precision. 

“I already told you what you need to know.” Dick says, his eyes flickering to the wooden stake on the floor that he’d practically thrown at Jason’s feet when he first walked in. 

“And I already told you; fuck that!” Jason snaps. “The fact you even asked me gives me all the reasons I need to refuse. So, I’ll ask you again, what do I need to know ?”

“They’re dead, the rest of them, I killed them.” Dick says, not looking at Jason and instead focusing on a random spot on the wall. 

“They were already dead, Dickie, I don’t think it really counts.” Jason folds down to sit cross-legged on the floor, still not too close given the look Dick shoots him. It gives Haley the chance she’s been waiting for as she immediately crawls into his lap and tries to lick his chin. He grabs her around the middle and scratches between her ears instead. 

Dick gives him a look that suggests he doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t try to argue. “From what they were saying, most of the myths are true. Blood, no sunlight, silver, stakes, crosses; all of that is true. The garlic and coffin thing is bullshit though. But that’s probably also where the main issue lies.”

“There’s a bigger issue than not being able to go out in daylight anymore?” Jason asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“I have to sleep with ancestral dirt, as in the dirt from where I was born and apparently there are consequences if I don't. Although they were a little vague on what the consequences will be.” 

“I mean, that won’t be too hard to get hold of, even if you can’t go outside during the day.” Jason says, not quite seeing the problem. 

Dick bites his lip and looks away from him again. “Jay, I don’t know where I was born and it’s not like I can just ring my parents and ask.”

“Doesn’t Bruce have your birth certificate?” Jason asks, well aware that Bruce made sure he now had everyone’s birth certificates after what happened to Jason because of his. 

“My birth was registered in France, due to my mom’s dual citizenship, when I was a few months old, but I don’t think I was actually born in France, no matter what the certificate says.” Dick says, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. It draws Jason’s attention to how pale he looks, but it’s not in a sickly kind of way, more that he looks carved from marble compared to his usual tan tones. 

Jason chews his lip and continues scratching Haley’s ears as he thinks about what to say next. “What about someone from the circus? Would they know? You could frame it as looking into your family history or some shit like that and then we can get some dirt.” Christ, that is a sentence he never expected to say. 

“Oh yeah, that could work. I’ll call Pop Haley.” Dick says quietly as he stands up and makes his way into the bedroom. Jason knows he’s still not entirely on board with the whole living as a vampire thing, but he waits until Dick’s out of sight before grabbing the stake off the floor and promptly throwing it out of the window. 

Haley barks at him and nudges at his leg as he grips the window ledge and takes a deep breath. This is… complicated in a way he doesn’t know how to deal with. “ Fuck . What am I gonna do Hales?”

Read on Ao3

[polyamzeal]

Hi. I saw you give advice before and I was hoping you could do the same for me. No pressure to though. Thank you for your blog by the way, I'm pretty new to this and it has been helping me a lot.

My partner and I opened our relationship up a few months ago and he started dating a friend he's known for a few years. I've met her before as his friend before they started dating, and also as sort of a branch of the friend group. But I would not call the two of us friends, just acquaintances.

I'm new to poly and I've done reading and research and I'm very aware of my position as the girlfriend who was part of the original couple. I've been trying my best to be a better person than I really am but I don't really know what to do. I want to make her comfortable and I want to make my partner happy but I feel like sometimes I end up overextended and hurt. But I don't know if thats just because I'm being selfish. I don't want to be controlling or demanding; I want to support their relationship. I just worry I'm not a good enough person to do so.

I will admit I have a lot of jealousy issues and insecurity issues, but I try not to bother my partner with it, and I refuse to even let my meta know about it. I always encourage my partner to spend time with her and not me whenever she's with us in a group setting (house parties, etc) because I live with my partner and we get to see each other any other time. I also avoid my partner and don't show affection to him when she is around because I don't want to make her uncomfortable by "staking a claim" or anything like that. So I end up ignoring him or pushing him away when he reaches out to hold my hand or hug me. He has told me he feels hurt by this but I've explained to him my reasoning.

The other day the three of us hung out. I was under the impression that she wanted to talk so I encouraged it but there was some miscommunication and it ended up turning out to just be a group hang out between me, my partner, and my meta. We went to grab lunch and he chose to sit with her instead of me and it hurt a little but it's literally something I would have told him to do so who am I to complain. But we didn't end up doing our usual ritual of sharing each others' food because I didn't want to make my meta uncomfortable and I didn't know how she would feel about cross contaminating spit because my food came last and they had already shared with each other. I felt kind of left out because I didn't get to do what I normally did with my partner while watching them do what I would normally do.

Afterwards we went to a bookstore to walk around but it was so crowded that moving as a group was pretty impossible so I split myself off from them. I was already feeling the third person on the sidewalk effect because I was the third person and I was feeling a bit lonely at this point. I figured it would be two birds one stone to just let them spend time together and I would get to nurse my hurt away from them by pretending I was going on an adventure by myself. At this point the idea of going out by myself sounded more appealing than hanging out as a group. And I continued to distance myself when we went to grab dessert. I saw her hugging and leaning her head against my partner's chest while we were waiting in line so I just physically turned away and determinedly scrolled my phone instead.

Long story short I felt like I was third wheeling their date but I don't know if it was because it was in my head: these were just friendly things they were doing in a friend group situation and I was reading too much into it. Or if it was because I was inflicting it upon myself: my policy of no affection and trying to make myself scarce when they could spend time together causing me to feel isolated. Or if it was because it really was the case that I was third wheeling them. Am I justified for being hurt here or am I just being jealous? This is a genuine question.

My partner's dream is to live in a big house with a group of friends. This would include me and my meta. This would also mean I would not show my partner affection unless we were in the privacy of our own room. Am I taking it too far? Would I be controlling or demanding to say I do not want my meta living with us? I don't want to be the "girlfriend that has veto power from the original relationship" I really don't. I want to support him but I think I would be miserable living in a house where I cannot be affectionate with my partner. Am I supposed to move out so they can live together instead?

I'm sorry for bothering you with all these questions. Again, no pressure to answer. I just don't know if I can do poly without having some sort of hierarchy where I am the primary of this relationship. I want to get married to my partner and that is a deal breaker for me. Does that make me bad at poly? I don't know what to do. I don't know if there's a resolution where everybody can be happy.

It sounds like there are a lot of assumptions being made here about the metamour. I would be very curious to know the metamour's experience with non-monogamy and just her overall thoughts on he relationship. She got into a relationship with your boyfriend knowing he already has a girlfriend. So unless if she is truly trying to cowgirl him and steal him away from you (it doesn't sound like she is) then I am sure she is making allowances too as to not step on your toes. So I think you have 2 options here.

1- You go full parallel polyamory. When he sees her, you don't see either of them. When you see him, she is not around. This style gets a bad reputation sometimes but it is a legit style that does work for some people and it might be what your needs want.

2- All three of you need to have an emotional conversation about what intimacy looks like when all together. Explain to your metamour that you want to be able to touch your boyfriend and not feel like you are trying to hurt her. That you want them to be cute with each other but sometimes it will make you a little jealous and how you can all cope with that. Definitely not saying you and your metamour need to be best friends that hang out together without your mutual partner but you are both on the same team so that will require a little more communication and just working together. That isn't going to happen if everybody is too scared to talk about jealousy or insecurities outloud.

One last thing. Don't be afraid to show your character faults, that is part of being in a relationship with someone. You should be telling your partner that you feel jealous or insecure. Do so when he is in a good headspace to talk about it and be clear that just because you are feeling those things that isn't a demand for him to change his behavior. Just let him know that it is happening and you are working through your feelings. It is very likely that you can both come up with fair compromises that keep everybody happy.

[roachliquid]

Before I get going into season 3 of Danny Phantom, I feel a need to take the time to enthuse about my all-time favorite antagonist of this series to date. I mean to tell you, this guy dethroned the Box Ghost, and he's still sitting at a solid #2. Though with that being said, it probably won't be too surprising when I tell you who unseated old Boxy, since this dude is so absurdly threatening that so far, he's only been deployed twice.

Yep. I'm talking about the man, the myth, the incredibly attractive legend himself, Freakshow.

Don't try to embarrass me; I've got no pride.

But uh. Moving past my taste in evil would-be clowns, I will admit that Freakshow is a classic example of Danny Phantom's derivativity. Creatively, he's blatantly heavily inspired by other cartoon villains - Jafar and the Joker being the most obvious ones - and visually, he's like if Richard O'Brien decided to work for the circus. Which I'm not remotely complaining about; it's a combination that works very well - it's just, y'know, classic DP creativity.

Anyway, the thing that I find whenever Freakshow shows up is that I am genuinely a little bit scared of him. Not in a "I am no longer aware that I'm watching a silly cartoon for kids" way, necessarily, but in an "oh shit our heroes are in real trouble" kind of way. Which sounds impressive for a guy who has no powers of his own, but... I think that's a big part of why he feels so threatening.

See, while Danny's faced a goodly number of powerful and high-stakes villains, I rarely find myself feeling like he's truly out of his depth. At the end of the day, most of them are ghosts, and he can usually defeat them by doing some kind of ghostly activity, such as shooting them with beams or taking a trip to the Ghost Zone. The few exceptions include Dan Phantom, a guy who could only really be defeated by Danny choosing not to become him, and then this motherfucker.

As I mentioned before, Freakshow is a normal human, a fact that he has a way of using to his advantage. Not because it exempts him from being blasted with beams or anything, but because he isn't constrained by the behavioral patterns or weaknesses of your average ghost. He doesn't have a consistent, unified power set that can be memorized and predicted, nor does he have a convenient Achilles heel sitting somewhere in the Ghost Zone just waiting for some hero to find it. Instead, he exhibits the far more worrying tendency of just having whatever powers he was recently able to get his hands on, and being more than prepared to get his hands on them whenever the opportunity arises.

That's the thing about Freakshow, is that he plans. And not in the grandiose, elaborate habit of Vlad Masters, who puts all his focus on a singular plan at the expense of flexibility. Freakshow's plans are simpler, but generally more effective - he looks out for potential opportunities, and does whatever legwork he can so that by the time one arises, he's ready to seize it and hit the ground running. He is, to put it in a word, adaptable.

And that's genuinely worrying. Because when someone is that flexible, you can never be too sure what they're capable of. Combine that with the absence of conventional ghost weaknesses, and you create a problem that Danny is just... not equipped to solve.

As badass as ghosts can be in Danny Phantom, I treasure those moments that show that they have their own disadvantages. Freakshow is a stellar example of that principle, a guy whose greatest strength - unfortunately unbeknownst to himself - is simply being a human being in a situation where that isn't the norm. Especially to a fourteen-year-old whose biggest non-existential threats are ordinary humans, that's a pretty big deal.

[chrismcleaneatspants]

General season 2 opinions. MASSIVE TDI 2023 season 2 spoilers ahead (as well as a huge wall of text.) You've been warned.

Ok, so here's everything I like about the season (I can count them on my fingers)

-There were some funny jokes

-MKulia was entertaining and it's now in my top 5 favorite ships, but it's not perfect, as I'll explain later

-Hockey dudes were a joy to watch I suppose

-Bowie stole the show as usual

-There are a lot of neat challenges (The canoe, slide, and dog challenges was a particular stand outs to me)

-MK herself was really funny

-MacArthur's cameo was a surprise to be sure, but a welcome one, and she bounces off of Chris really well

-Duncney is still broken up lol

Honestly that's about it in terms of positives, cuz I have a million other negatives for this supposed sequel to (imo) the best written season of the show.

-The Relationships were the single worst aspect about this season full stop. Ripaxel and Praleb are probably the worst couples the show has ever subjected me to. For Ripaxel, they basically removed anything interesting Ripper had going on and Axel wasn't allowed to live up to any kind of hype she created because one lame ass poem turned her into Ripper's girlfriend for the remaining duration of her run, only for the both of them to be tossed aside in episode 7 in perhaps the worst double elimination in the entire show.

-Praleb started off ok. I thought it was gonna be a one-sided crush plot initially before Episode 6. They had a couple cute moments before episode 8, of which their screentime became suffocating because afterwards is was this painful back and forth where Caleb tried explaining himself and Priya would be mad at him, then ally with him, then be mad at him again like it was so tiresome. By the time they got together in the finale again, I was wishing they had just followed up on Pramien instead. Caleb by himself was funny in the first half of season 2 and Priya was great in season 1, but the two of them together were insufferable

-Speaking of Priya, she went from one of the best characters in season 1 to one of the worst in season 2. Why did she have to make it all the way to episode fucking 12 after winning season 1?? Just for some generic heterosexual romance? They also made her so dumb with shit like knowing Julia is manipulating her but then getting a surprise Pikachu face when Julia manipulated her??? You spent your entire life preparing for this show, how the fuck did you not see this coming???

-Segwayying into Julia, she's the worst antagonist full stop. I've never seen such an absolute downgrade of a character. She was a goat in season 1 who was aware of her situation and acted accordingly because the stakes were real. Here? Reality basically warps around her just to keep her in the game. She does things characters would never fall for in season 1 and they just go with it?? They insist on keeping her in the finale and do basically nothing interesting with her. She's not even as funny as Island Heather at the end of the day.

-I mentioned MKulia earlier, so I'll just get to it here: I like it in concept. Two evil sapphics causing chaos together is really fun. My main issue is that it was very sudden. They both were not fans of each other at the end of season 1 and now I'm supposed to just believe they became friends off screen? I mean, I guess, but it's kinda cheap. I would have really liked it if it was straight up enemies to lovers ngl. Also the fact MK had very little agency outside of being Julia's lackey doesn't help either. I want to point to the fake contract thing, for instance. Why did Julia do that? That sounds like an MK thing to do.

-Time to dive into other characters: Damien is an absolute fucking tragedy. At the end of season 1, Damien had one ambition: win next season. They kinda did that, sure, but they regressed Damien into being a complete coward to do so, not to mention he didn't even go all the way either. Damien didn't get a W until episode 6 and tbh that was his only W. By the end of his tenure, I was left confused on what the point of his run was. (I'll come back to this later.)

-What was the point of Nichelle? Like seriously, what did she contribute to the season at all? They didn't do the ironic underdog story with her, and considering she was getting all egotistical and aggressive, i thought she was gonna be the antagonist for sure...until Julia got rid of her in episode 5 in a way that really shouldn't make sense cuz like Nichelle is an actual celebrity that stars in blockbuster movies, I'm pretty sure she could sniff a fake contract a mile away, right?

-Hockey dudes were great, but I felt like they were very dumbed down at times? Like they were just generic dumb dudes that just meandered around a lot of the time (Wayne in particular just straight up floated away from a challenge at one point)

-Bowie was alright too. His line delivery is great as usual, but let's not kid ourselves: In a well written season, he'd be going straight for Julia the next time his team lost. Bowraj was nice to see even if the season didn't really do a whole lot with it

-Am I the only one who thinks this season is a tad bit misogynistic? Like this is the shortest them phase the show as ever had (to the point where i'd argue teams don't really matter) and 4 of the 5 team phase boots were girls. Millie and Emma in particular were really bad. Like, you could make Millie a team phase boot without like shitting on her that hard. And Emma got like fuck all closure outside of breaking up with Chase off screen like wow, way to utilize such a high potential character, Fresh. And this is saying nothing about how the girls that did make it to the merge had plots basically dominated by romance and like nothing else. And then there's MKulia which is apparently intended to be a friendship but like is written like a romantic one at times. It gives me all-stars gwourtney vibes and (as a fan of gwourtney myself) not in a good way. At least MK and Julia were somewhat in character I guess, but they had their edges really sanded off and honestly as a friendship (situationship?) it's a complete downgrade from Millie and Priya in so many ways

-And another thing: who's the protagonist this season? Outside of Praleb, who am I supposed to care for? Who am I supposed to root for? By the halfway mark, the show doesn't really make any convincing arguments to root for like anyone there outside of maybe Damien? And he went gone in episode 10, so like, hockey dudes? No one has an interesting enough narrative for me to care.

-The immunity idol stinks as usual. Like, why did Damien do THE SAME FUCKING THING HEATHER DID IN ALL-STARS?? That actually pissed me off so much holy shit. The immunity idol as it stands in the show is basically a shitty plot device made to keep characters in as there's no real strategy revolved around it.

-Oh and another minor thing: Owen's cameo sucks, and that's entirely due to him not being physically aged up at all and just being a vehicle for the same dumb jokes they always make with him. so stupid

-Anyways, I spend an entire season with two shitass straight relationships taking up screentime, a whole multiude of potential plotlines from last season (pramien) and this season (scary girl's revenge, millie being the new ripper, damien's comeback, julia having internal conflict over her friendship (feelings?) for MK) being set up and just nothing being done with them, and characters in general just being nerfed or borderline out of character (Ripper) and what am I rewarded with?

-Soar Losers. The most boring nothing finale in the entire show. The choices for finalists suck, Wayne, while being the least bad option for a winner (and i do still like him a lot), is still a mid ass winner in the grand scheme of the entire show. And more praleb drama? fuck off I hate them so much. The challenge did not feel finale worthy at all, and honestly it was the worst challenge in the whole season. On top of being a bunch of nothing, the show decides to bring back the worst trope it ever had: losing hair as karma. I almost ragequit the episode on the spot that shit makes me so irrationally mad. I think it's even worse here because Julia still had hair after the fact, which makes it seem like they were aware it's not a popular TD trope but wanted to half commit to it anyways for the sake of tradition or something. Terrible finale to an already decently sized letdown of a season, but it has some ok MKulia moments I guess. The finale was just emblematic of the entire season, where things just happen and you're just expected to go along with everything. (Also side note how come Chase wasn't the one to jump off of the cart for pizza immediately?)

TL;DR reboot season 2 imo was a step down in every conceivable way from season 1 apart of i guess comedy and it's left a very sour taste in my mouth. I'm probably missing a few points that I'll add onto later but man it feels nice putting my opinion out there.

[freerangeranger]

Thinking of becoming a ranger, can you be both a ranger and a pokemon trainer? Is it difficult to rise up the ranks? What kind or people will I have to interact with besides other rangers?

I would say - kindof. Being a pokemon trainer absolutely has benefits for applying to Ranger school, especially if you want to work in places other than Almia/Fiore/Oblivia. Anywhere that pokeballs are a staple to everyday life - Pokemon rangers mostly act like Trainers.

That being said there are also a lot of hoops to jump through. Training a battle pokemon and training a ranger pokemon are two different things. Most of my pokemon would lose in a flat out battle - but thats not their primary goal.

My two Nidorina are trained for crowd control and rescuing people from debris or accidents. Lamp the Sizzlipede is espionage and stealth - something we use a lot to deal with situations non-aggressively. Sol is basically a non-combatant, he exclusively works in urban enviroments to help deal with emergencies where people are trapped on upper stories of buildings. As an ariados he can safely attach anchor points or even carry small people or pokemon. Sully is in training to not be a little bitch 24/7 and my Fidough Zelda is a bit too young for serious work, but we are doing scenting classes and she's on her way to be a cadaver dog.

I think Sully is a good example of what could potentially happen with battle 'mons. They often are aggressive in stressful situations because thats how they have been conditioned. Battle is inherently stressful and not necessarily in a bad way. But a battle 'mon might not be able to distinguish between "battle stress" and "ranger emergency stress".

TLDR - Retraining a pokemon is a very long process - its not entirely impossible but it is something to be aware of when applying.

As for rising through the ranks - it isnt all that its cracked up to be. If you want prestige stick to being a trainer - you get no badges or accolades in this job.

And Uhhh to answer your question about people - its a mixed bag. You get to help a lot of people but also have to throw down with scum of the earth. Think of it like high stakes customer service except i can get the Karens arrested bc usually they are doing a funny lil thing called 'a violation of ethics'.

[bestbonnist]

YAS! My not-so-subtle hint was a SUCCESS!

For Character Ask Game: -

Fushi (duh): Q2, 3, 5, 6 (I know you answered this in Discord before, but! Maybe others will like to hear about it?), 7, 8, 11 (HAHAHA I KID, I KID), 19, 23 (I ask because I lowkey think yall have a whole treasure trove of manga panels in your local storage, and you're our manga provider and a temporary translator. You've gotta had a fav!), 24

Lefthand Nokker: Q1, 9, 12, 14, 18, 19, 24

The Beholder: Q1, 2, 3, 10, 18, 19

I hope it ain't too much. Nah who am I kidding, this is a lot. But hey, it's

the Non-Human-in Origin Trio!

Fushi

Favorite canon thing about this character?

That they lie all the goddamn time. The expectation for a protagonist like Fushi, who has this sympathetic, innocent quality, is that they're an honest person. But Fushi loves lying to themselves and everyone around them. Fushi doesn't necessarily need to be truthful to be a good person, although they do need to be truthful to have good relationships. I think that's very interesting.

Least favorite canon thing about this character?

Maybe the fact that their usual body is considered good looking. How is that relevant + who cares.

What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

Slipping Through My Fingers by ABBA. I don't know why! It just reminds me so much of Fushi in the present era and their relationship with March.

What's something you have in common with this character?

I can relate to their feeling of isolation from everyone else, particularly how they don't think of things in the same way as other people. Seeing Fushi have the same experience as me is reassuring.

What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

When people give them bubble tea. It's nice! They deserve a little treat.

What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

Ship them with Kahaku. I'm well aware that I'm throwing stones from a glass house considering I also ship them with Kahaku (kind of), but. It's like people are incapable of liking the ship without turning Fushi into an entirely different person. That is not the same guy.

How about a relationship they have in canon that you don't like?

That's really tough. Maybe their relationship with Bon? Because of the role Bon played in the Renryrr arc, his relationship with Fushi is a lot colder/more professional than their relationships with their other friends. Even in the present era, they're still more comfortable going to Bon for advice than going to anyone else. I actually really like that, I just wish the change was acknowledged by either of them. Because it connects so well to the theme of the present era about letting go of the past, and making a move towards peace: Fushi and Bon's relationship is a remnant of high stakes of the Renryrr arc. Should they change it, or does it work fine the way it is?

Favorite picture of this character?

I do have a treasure trove of Fushi panels. My computer is lousy with screenshots I've taken and forgot about. I think my favorite is from volume 14's inside cover.

Look at their expression! Look at the color contrast between Fushi and the Beholder enveloping them! I love it when we get Fushi's whole body, because then we can see their posture. They slouch a lot :)

What other character from another fandom of yours that reminds you of them?

Yato from Noragami. You've read Noragami, right? He was created to fulfill the wishes of his father figure, he's an immortal god, and he's tasked with destroying creatures that prey on humanity's weaknesses. In Noragami, there's also the possibility that Yato's living friends could have their memories of him severed, or they could lose those memories of him after they die. It's the reverse of Fushi's situation, but there's still stuff going on with memories so I say it counts.

Left Hand

Why do you like or dislike this character?

I like it, because it serves as such an excellent foil for Fushi. When Fushi's trying to reach a peaceful solution with the knockers in the present era, the left hand is there to try and drag it back down. It hates Fushi so much, it cares more about Fushi suffering than the knockers' entire reason for existence. To most of the knockers, these two things are indistinguishable, but the left hand wants Fushi to destroy the knockers instead of cooperate with them because that means Fushi will lose.

Could you be roommates with this character?

No... well, I could. The left hand would probably be a great roommate until it killed me in my sleep and replaced me with a knocker.

What's a headcanon you have for this character?

Not really sure if this counts as a headcanon, it's more like a theory. I think the left hand will get an actual name by the end of the manga.

Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.

Not sure what it's called but I like the idea of the left hand wearing a lot of jewelry and mismatched layers of clothing. Because the two characters it's closest to, Fushi and Mizuha, are both collectors of very different types of things. Mizuha collects medals and trophies and trinkets that are bright and shiny. Fushi collects things that most people wouldn't find any value in, like mud balls. So I think the left hand would be a type of collector too. And I would like seeing that reflected in their outfits somehow. I mean, Mizuha has a home to display her stuff in, but the only place the left hand has is whatever body its in. So wearing a bunch of its stuff might be a way of making that body feel like home. But that's all just speculation.

How about a relationship they have in canon with another character that you admire?

With Yuuki. That's the only relationship the left hand has with anyone in canon that's even remotely good.

How about a relationship they have in canon that you don't like?

With Mizuha. It's not dislike, per say, it's more like they were together for so long but we have no idea how they interacted with each other. What they thought of each other. To Mizuha, maybe the left hand was only a tool, but what about what she was to the left hand? I find it hard to believe that the left hand didn't care about her at all when it's got the same Kahaku issues as Fushi. And we saw how that turned out.

What other character from another fandom of yours that reminds you of them?

The only one I can think of is Orokappi from After God. They both take on a human form in order to infiltrate human society, and then start to resemble a human on the inside as well. He even makes the same pose as the left hand when it traps Fushi underneath it (which it does twice during their fight) when he's trying to kill his friend. Orokappi is a little less... sophisticated than the left hand, but he's no less of a complex and interesting character.

The Beholder

Why do you like or dislike this character?

I'm kinda neutral towards him honestly. I've defended him to people who don't like him very much, but he didn't get enough development for a character of his importance.

Favorite canon thing about this character?

I like how he just disappears when he loses an argument. It's really petty. In the time when he just seemed like an omniscient, uncaring god, it made him feel more human.

Least favorite canon thing about this character?

I guess I expected him to play a bigger role in the present era, so it was disappointing when he didn't. He was still there quite a bit though, despite his insistence that he didn't want to be involved. I think I would have liked to see how and why he decided to save Tonari and everyone else at school, instead of just "well, I've been human for a while now, so I guess it's having an affect on me," which is what we got. That's a big turning point for Satoru. It's the first time he's actually intervened in anything instead of acting as an observer. But it feels like he went from point A to point B with nothing in between.

Could you be best friends with this character?

I tend to stick to people I find entertaining for whatever reason, and he's definitely entertaining. Maybe that would eventually become a close friendship. But probably not.

How about a relationship they have in canon with another character that you admire?

... Sumika? It's sweet how Satoru can just be a normal kid with her, even before he loses his memories.

How about a relationship they have in canon that you don't like?

I think the closest to "don't like" would be his relationship with Fushi. I have sympathy for him but he's a terrible father figure.

[boblittlepage-blog]

I'm Confused About Something...

A brief update for the uninitiated, which probably means everyone. Sometime back, I attempted to strike up a friendship with noted online semicelebritytype Indigo White, who you may know from her many productions of video entertainment not intended for younger viewers (do the math). Yes, I first came across her the same way most guys do (let's just say my prostate has never been healthier), but then I started watching her YouTube videos, and was very impressed with her intelligence, sense of humor, and levelheadedness. I'm very drawn to intelligence, and decided this is someone I'd actually like to know. And through chats during live streams and interactions on Twitter and Fansly, things seemed to be proceeding nicely. I'd like to think that I made it clear that I wasn't just another dweeb who'd parasocially bonded to some e-girl, that this was genuine affection for her as a person. Seeing that in writing makes it sound weird, but so be it, let's move on.

Some time ago, Indigo came out as trans, and was now a boy. Despite the change in personal pronouns to he/him, and now sporting shorter, Beatle-ish hair, nothing much was going to change content-wise, no plans for surgery or hormones (which begs the question of just how trans was Indy actually, but we'll not deal with that here, or anywhere else for now, it's largely irrelevant).

Okay, fine, I'll play along, so long Indy didn't feel the need to undergo anything permanent, (again, usually an indicator that something else is going on, not gender dysphoria), so no harm no foul.

In the meantime, I've gotten to know several detransitioners online, and heard their horror stories about how they'd been suckered into the whole gender ideology thing (which, by the way, is the creation of a very sick man, John Money, a pedophile who should be listed right alongside Joseph Mengele for the work he did directly with a couple of twin boys, both ending in suicide, but also for his sham "work" being baked into the psychiatric and medical industries before the true horror of his acts were finally made public. The result is that actual gender dysphoria, the kind where major gender reassignment surgery is the only workable treatment, has largely been pushed aside for people who are suffering from other, less serious issues, generally from some childhood trauma, like puberty in general, and turning garden variety identity crises into reasons for these sufferers, largely teenagers, who we must remember are still highly impressionable are generally stupid, to permanently wreck their biochemistry and mutilate their bodies).

So, during one live stream, I get wind of Indy trying to work up the courage to get what is euphemistically referred to as "top surgery", i.e., a double mastectomy, for no other reason than a long time hatred of them. Turns out Indy got those DD tiddies pretty much full force, virtually overnight, and besides being literally painful, anybody who's been to school between the ages of 9 to 15 can fill in the blanks of what the reaction of the other kids was. Also keep in mind that the amygdala, the lizard part of the brain that handles trauma and triggers the ol' fight-or-flight response, doesn't differentiate between actually life threatening situations and a snide comment from a 4th grade teacher at the wrong time, trauma is trauma, and can have life altering effects, especially in kids. We're generally not even aware of this happening until pointed out to us. Digging through Indy's Tumblr, apparently there's some additional trauma back there, that is triggering enough that I'm not going to even try and ask about it, but we're still talking a response to trauma. One day, it'll have to be dealt with, not just painted over with a big ol' "Congrats! You're Trans!" label. That's not therapy, that checking a box so somebody can make a boat payment. Since lives are at stake with this nonsense, I get very pissed off.

Anyway.

Back to the case at hand. I, hoping to spare Indy the kind of life wrecking pain I've seen others going through, began pushing for the alternative of breast reduction. Less invasive, faster recovery, and coming to the conclusion that, yes, Indy's tits WERE too big (5'4", 110 lbs, shouldn't be any bigger than a B, maybe closer to an A).

Enter the Affirmation Brigade, standing by and cheering Indy forward to go forth and be sliced up like a Sunday roast, to advance the cause of TRANS RIGHTS! Which I see as an attempt to validate their own sorry existences at the expense of someone else's health and well being. Well, during an engagement with one of these ghouls, things got rather heated, and more than a little ugly. I don't particularly regret anything I said, I would've preferred it didn't have to be in the form of calling out the other person as a butcher. Not because it was inaccurate (it wasn't), but because it was somewhat undignified.

Cue another set of angry DMs with Indy, demanding that I knock it off or get banned. I'd said everything I felt needed saying, so feeling no need to press the issue any further, certainly not publicly, I agreed. And things got more or less back to normal.

However, I reached out to a noted doctor who deals with the whole trans issue, and, with a couple of links, one to Indy's Twitter profile, the second to the coming-out video on YouTube, and asked for a professional opinion. Mainly, I wanted some guidance on whether I was doing the right thing by trying to be the lone voice against the affirmation chorus, trying to make the point that major invasive surgery over a personality issue is probably a very, very bad idea. Had I pushed too far, or should I stand my ground? One of the recurring themes I'd been hearing from detransitioners was that nobody ever challenged them, made them stop and think it out, WHY did they think they were trans? Could it be something else? Let's figure this out BEFORE we start lopping off perfectly healthy body parts, and see if we can find a less bloody and traumatizing solution. We live in a world where unless you blindly affirm the choice, you're a (fill in the blank). Well, sorry, but if the Emporer is walking down Broadway bloody starkers, I'm gonna say something.

Fast forward to a couple days later, this has gotten back to Indy, and the response in DM was thermonuclear. What right did I have to do this, I'm insane, etc., etc., and that was it, I'd been given too many chances already, I was banned, with the final shot being, and I quote, "Unblocking you to say one final thing. If I didn’t have the support i have and live where i do, what you did could have gotten me killed. Think about that. Fuck you."

Okay, back that up a little.

I posted a link to a PUBLIC Twitter page, with a link to a PUBLIC YouTube video (which Indy posted herself/himself TWICE, and has pinned to various other social media sites), disclosed no information, and only asked for "a professional opinion." (For the record, the only response I got back from the doctor was "Nope.") How in this, or any other reality could that endanger anybody? Did I overstep? Okay, I'll grant that. Wasn't the first time, pretty sure it won't be the last. But possibly getting Indy killed? Sorry, but I need to hear the twisted logic that comes to that conclusion, because I ain't seeing it, and I took Logic in college, I know a thing or two about false premises and the strange places they lead.

I would like to rebuild this relationship, if possible, but I'm not holding my breath. Clearly what I did incensed Indy, and it's not likely it'll be easy to walk that back. I would still like to have that explanation, though. If you're gonna throw down something like my being responsible for possible manslaughter, I think I'm at least owed that much.

Again, Indy (if you've read this far), my DMs are open, and I did give you my phone number, provided you haven't deleted the DM (doesn't seem like it, because I've still got 'em on my end). I'm ready for peace when you are.

[metanarrates]

one thing yall may not know about me is that i love to analytically read villainess isekai and pick apart its power fantasy elements. im not too familiar with the isekai-adjacent male power fantasy genre, but I've read a handful of them, plus it's close enough to its josei equivalent that there's a bit of overlap in how each genre functions. which makes orv super interesting to read because even a passing familiarity with the isekai power fantasy genre will mean that its plot elements will frequently feel very familiar to a reader.

there's a lot that sets orv apart a bit from its genre, but i think the biggest thing that i'll credit it with is that it's both very aware of its nature as a power fantasy and comments a lot on the nature of power fantasy. it's quite nuanced and intelligent about it, whereas a lot of similar power fantasy functions more or less as a largely mindless self-insert vessel. (to be fair, kim dokja also kind of IS a self insert but in a weird fucking way where you feel a bit too fucking seen by his Complexes.) this intelligence and self-awareness also means that it doesn't punch down on more self-indulgent fantasy. it recognizes those are stories that can be loved too even if it pushes for the reader to be aware of the ways in which escapism can be harmful.

its awareness of its power fantasy elements also means that those elements are EXTREMELY well executed. orv is unafraid of cringe and it knows that giant monsters and diegetic RPG systems and overpowered protagonists are fun! it knows that fuckoff giant swords are fun! and so it tends to wring a lot of effective enjoyment out of them!

i think the best example of this is kdjs overpoweredness. usually, an OP protagonist will be a little too much for some readers to suspend their disbelief, if things are too easy or unrealistic for them. at the same time, though, OP protagonists are appealing because it is SUPER fun to watch a hyper-competent person do cool shit nonstop. orv effectively balances these by doing two critical things:

1. for as overpowered as kdj's knowledge and abilities are, they would be nothing if he could not utilize them effectively. therefore, he's really genuinely clever, and his solutions to problems always feel satisfying to a reader because of how smartly written they are. the competence is shown rather than assumed!

2. kdj is overpowered. however, the shit he's up against is MORE overpowered. sure, he's a guy with cool mystical skills and omniscient knowledge, but he also has a human body and can feasibly get crushed like a bug if a bigger power decides they don't like him. the power scaling always ensures that he's always facing situations where his cleverness and abilities have to be pushed to the limits for him to survive. essentially, the stakes are always well-established, and so it rarely feels like he gets shit handed to him. which is a remarkable maintenance of tension considering how long orv is!

essentially, orv has its cake and eats it too, power-fantasy wise. you get to watch a very competent group of characters narrowly and cleverly squeeze through a ton of impossible situations while exhibiting incredible power that feels earned. it is REALLY hard to pull all of it off and my hat's off to orv for managing it. all while balancing an incredible metanarrative, interesting characters, and fantastic themes too!!

[faebriel]

Hiya Kai! Hope your day is going good! Do you have any hcs about pre-canon cWil, cSchlatt, and cNiki you'd like to share? :D I miss them so bad

hi holly!!! i hope you're having a good day as well!!! :D i've been writing a lot of these three lately so here are a few random headcanons and such :3

the vibe for the trio in my mind is kind of. wilbur and schlatt are already old friends. wilbur meets niki and they become close friends as well. so it's a bit of a situation where niki and schlatt would consider each other friends but wouldn't really if it wasn't for wilbur. neither of them really acknowledge it but there's a quiet (almost jealous?) little back and forth between them bc they're so different, and wilbur is kind of caught in between. this doesn't become a Problem until later though

schlatt tries teaching niki card games but she has the most godawful pokerface ever. cannot lie to save her life (and often times they're not playing for anything more drastic than who shouts the first round of drinks next time they go out or something so the stakes are not necessarily high. fortunately)

similar wavelength niki and wilbur keep gravitating towards teaming up against him in card/board games bc he wins most of the time otherwise and he's like that's not how you play the freaking game

niki bakes just kind of bc she likes it herself but it does mean whenever they're hanging out she usually has something she can offer them and can make things for birthdays and such. wilbur and schlatt try baking her a birthday cake once and well you saw how wilbur's attempt went in the apology stream. imagine that but two people collaborating who are 1. even less experienced in baking and 2. really don't want to ask for help

by this age (like...late teens early twenties) wilbur is dimly aware there is something not quite right with how his brain works. schlatt is kind of stubborn in the "there's nothing wrong with me" camp but there are early signs of what becomes bigger issues later (insecurity around his health, addiction, etc). as of yet, they kind of consider niki as ""normal"" (ie not like them). wilbur and schlatt are both keenly aware of what each other are dealing with but wilbur's number one priority is that the mask never slips around niki ever. this doesn't last (and kind of drives another division between him and niki vs him and schlatt)

wilbur and schlatt spend some time counterfeiting enchantment books for a living so wilbur and niki decide to spend the time becoming fluent in standard galactic. schlatt is 100% certain they are doing it to talk shit about him (he's only correct like 26% of the time /lh)

wilbur came from the antarctic empire while niki and schlatt were born in warmer regions so he thrives in the cold. they absolutely do not. wilbur stands in the street in a thin button up like wow the weather is lovely today :) while the others have three layers on

kind of friend group to sit in a (minecraft) parking lot 2am and shove each other around in the (minecraft) trolleys. niki complains if they don't put them back after though (works in minecraft retail and hospo)

they have a collective bad habit of getting into spats and not really apologising for them. like two or the three of them will get into a blowout argument one night and the next morning they'll make coffee or go on runs or buy each other drinks or just kind of hang out in each others' space to show they're not mad anymore, but they're not very good at actually saying sorry. or admitting any of them were wrong lol

had a few too many on a night out almost got matching tattoos. got turned away by the tattoo artist for being clearly wasted (in later years this would be called a dodged bullet)

[vampire-the-askerade]

LaCroix x Reader pt 1

[So this is a x reader fiction, but also a sort of au where instead of the fledgling being of a known clan, they’re caitiff. Speaking of, uses they/them gn descriptors to make character inserts easier :)]

There were many things that a prince would have to deal with. Seeing as LaCroix was sent to one of the most politically charged places at the time, he was dealing with evens more than most of the other princes appointed by the Camarilla. He was also acutely aware that this was on purpose as though he had proven himself to be capable of the job, he also wasn’t too concerned about who he had to upset and step over to get the position in the first place; something that certainly didn’t make him the most beloved of people. But, if there was one thing that Sebastian LaCroix enjoyed it was tackling a challenge- and, even more so proving his many detractors wrong. For this reason, he was determined and at least for the most part able to handle all that LA had to throw at him. He wouldn’t say that he was thriving, however.

While he was handling everything, it was just by the skin of his teeth, no matter how well he hid that fact. There was also the fact that he was no fool, and knew that the other leaders in the area weren’t fools themselves. They had been here longer than him, and therefore knew the landscape, political or otherwise better than he did. And, though LaCroix was loathed to admit it, some of them had been in a leadership position in the Camarilla much longer than he had been and could tell that he wasn’t as firm in his confidence on handling everything as he tried to put on. Most of them were content enough to sit back a wait for him to hang his own noose, which he didn’t mind as much as some might think; again, one of his driving forces for everything was proving people wrong. What did bother him was the one person in the Camarilla that was actually trying to undermine him at every chance he could get- one Maximilian Strauss.

The two of them both knew what Strauss’ intentions, but they were both, especially LaCroix, very aware that if either of them were to be more forward with their dislike for each other, showing it more as distaste, then there would be repercussions, not only from the local Anarchs thinking that infighting would be the go-ahead to try to attack, but also the higher ranks in the Camarilla itself would think that they were both unfit for their assigned positions. However, even with this slight problem, he was still pressing on. LaCroix had things balanced, no matter how precariously. And, as long as nothing else came to upset that balance then he would be fine.

That, of course, was when you came along.

There had been news that there was a vagrant of some kind that had come into the area and had, very sloppily embraced a childe. The kindred in question managed to get killed while being apprehended; it seemed they were rather young and uneducated on what he was as he died in a rather unavoidable way. That left you. Usually, there would be a trial of some sort, but this was an odd sort of situation. Seeing as the sire was a caitiff, you would be one as well. Again, there were usually established procedures, but with the Anarchs' current string of actions, if the Camarilla were to follow any of the usual procedures for caitiffs, namely execution in this case, there was no telling what sort of uproar would be caused for the proverbial underdog in this case. So, something else had to be done for you.

There was plenty of debate spanning the entire night on what to do with the thing that was staked and paralyzed in the middle of the meeting room. Every time there was something suggested, there was another party that would either express their concern or dismiss the idea entirely. And, of course, as prince LaCroix had to do his best to keep the peace between everyone as well as remember such things as what suggestions came from where. Just as it seemed that there was going to be no solution reached, someone that had been quiet the whole night, and that LaCroix wished stayed silent, finally spoke. Strauss, who either had been mulling over all the information given by his peers or waiting for the perfect moment to spring his plan into action (knowing the fiend perhaps a bit of both) decided to give his suggestion a go.

“If we cannot follow traditional procedure because we do not want to give other parties the chance to call us uncaring and antiquated, perhaps we should try to give them reason to believe the opposite?” All eyes were on the Tremere, and it seemed like that was exactly where he wanted them. Seeing as the rest of the primogen had already commenced with a buzz of questioning and doubtful whispers, Strauss took that as his cue to explain further. “Seeing as this young one is not affiliated with any clan, there could be opportunity for one of the more… non-Camarilla affiliated clans to be reintroduced into the fold. It could work as the first step to easing tensions between the both of us.”

“And, how would we know if this kid is even Anarch leaning clan?” The Nosferatu primogen rasped from the darker corner that he was sitting partially shadowed in; always a dramatic soul, that one. Strauss gave an acknowledging nod to the question before answering, “I would be willing to use my abilities to aid in that search. However, only if this childe could be deemed to be a viable member of the Camarilla. No reason to waste the time and resources if we do not plan on deviating from our usual course of action.” This sent another wave of murmurs through the other kindred in the room. All were taking part in the speculation except for Strauss and LaCroix. Not only was LaCroix prone to keep to himself as his opinion was to be as unbiased as possible, but his second reason for this is that he and the Tremere were too busy staring each other down, silently daring each other to say something.

LaCroix knew that Strauss was planning something, and that something would most likely be at his expense. But, once again, they both knew to keep appearances, especially in a place like this, so things would have to play out as they would in any other official scenario; no accusations could be made here. It didn’t take long before the others seemed to catch onto what Strauss was doing, and while they didn’t trust him, they hated the prince more. “Who would be in charge of the fledgling’s education?” Another asked, doing his part to set up this plan he was just picking up on. “Yes, we cannot expect them to simply know our ways from the start.” Someone else aided in this ploy. “I was thinking that the good prince could take that role. After all, he should know our ways better than anyone else here, given his title.” Strauss said once there was others on his side, and less fear of repercussion.

This annoyed LaCroix more than anything else; though the only sign of this he showed outwardly was a slight twitch of the nose as he willed away a scowl. This was nothing more than facing a group of schoolyard bullies, all going for him because he was the proverbial, “new kid.” He wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of beating him down, and more importantly, he was going to give himself the satisfaction of proving their assessment of his character wrong. So, he straighten his shoulders, slightly turned up his nose to match his attitude, and boasted, “I believe that would be a wise idea as well.” Strauss and the others almost seemed surprised that he so quickly and willingly called their bluff. LaCroix didn’t give them a chance to respond before he continued, “As the local prince, it is my responsibility to be aware of the needs of my fellow kindred, as well as keeping the masquerade from being broken. Instructing this childe and keeping them in my charge would be the union of both these things.”

“Well, then, it seems at least two parties agree on this course of action.” Strauss grinned like the serpent he is while letting the others know where he stood. Between some of the others either wanting to try and trip up LaCroix any way possible, and the remainder just wanting to get back to their havens for the approaching morning, it didn’t take much longer or much more effort to get them to agree. Soon, they were all departing, and LaCroix was left alone with his thoughts, his sheriff, and his newly acquired childe. It couldn’t be that difficult to get this stray kindred to know their ways and perhaps even be a beneficial acquaintance for him; in a political sense if nothing else.

If only he knew how wrong he would be.

[angel-fics]

Darkness Within the Light

Chapter 3 of a Dwayne Stephens x Latina!Pregnant!Witch!OC fanfic

Warnings: Threats of violence, allusions to dangerous situations, language, sexual innuendos, Grandpa Emerson (you all know he counts). This entire story is deemed unsuitable for minors, if you are one, you are responsible for your own media intake, you have been warned.

Summary: As Jessamine settles into her new job and begins adjusting to her new way of life, we meet her new landlord, Grandpa Emerson. Cranky, superstitious, and all too aware of her status, Jessamine tries to find even footing with this eccentric old man who’s anxiously waiting for the appearance of his estranged family.

(y’all, i fucking forgot to add the photo the first time i uploaded, it adds to the ambiance and it’s so fucking important and i forgot it💀)

With two clicks and a startlingly accurate aim, Jessamine watched in horror as the shotgun leveled at her head. Her breathing shallowed drastically as she tried to keep calm and stay level-headed. Her abilities and magik could be triggered by her emotional state, and this was one of the worst times and situations to let out a wave of magikal energy.

“The hell you two devil-worshippers doin’ on my property? And speak quick cuz I’m too old to pretend to be interested,” growled the white-haired man as he stared down the scope of his weapon, his finger tightening around the trigger menacingly. He was old enough to look just days away from dying, withered snowy locks flowing stiffly in the light breeze. He was dressed haphazardly, as if he fell into a closet and decided to stay in whatever had landed on him. An atrociously patterned orange and blue Hawaiian shirt lay over a stained wife beater, which was probably once white. He wore thick cotton cutoff shorts that exposed a farmers tan, leading to his mismatched socks and shoes. One foot had an ankle length striped sock and a slipper with a huge hole in the toe. The other sock was high on his calf and had green polka dots and laid in an untied leather work boot.

Flinching at the sawed-off that was just a few feet away from her, she leaned to whisper harshly into Leighton’s ear. “When you said you’d take me to my new ‘living arrangements’, I didn’t think that translated into my untimely death! I though you knew this guy.”

“I know of him, everyone does. He’s killed his fair share of vampires before finally settling here about forty odd years ago. He’s been here as long as I have.”

Icy blue eyes glared at the two Wiccan, distrustful and paranoid. “Now, don’t you two start consorting or whatever it is that y’all’s kind tend to do,” he warned wearily. Standing just a few feet away from them from the top of his porch steps, Jessamine had never felt so threatened in her life. Usually, in life or death scenarios, she was more calm. But now, it wasn’t just her life at stake. Before this baby, she felt expendable and unimportant. All of that had changed and she felt the true burden of her mortality for the first time.

Leighton tried not to take his eyes off of the older man, but it was hard to when he knew his newest charge was in such an awful position. Santa Carla was, for many valid reasons, practically deserted by magikal folk. He preferred it that way. Wiccan had stopped going West long ago, so he was basically alone. While it didn’t do much for his power, he knew he was independent and in full control here without having to account for or answer to anyone. But Jessamine and her baby changed all of that. And he knew that the Great Mother had an intended purpose for the young woman and her baby.

“Mr. Emerson, I think there’s been a huge misunderstanding here. We pose no threat to you or your home, and we didn’t come here with any bad intentions. I’m the librarian in town and this young woman is my new employee. She has fled from a very dangerous situation and she needs a home. Given your background and need for a tenant, I thought it would do to come here,” he assured, stepping in front of Jessamine and holding his arm across her torso protectively.

“I don’t think there’s been any misunderstanding, Mr. Librarian. Lemme make myself clear, I got my own to protect. I ain’t gonna let some fugitive you’re harboring put my family into danger by bringing about a damn apocalypse within my home. I don’t care if you think she’s innocent or too damn pretty to get rid of,” Emerson insisted, not even twitching out of his defensive position.

Jessamine tried not to bristle at his offensive words, and focused at the gun he still had leveled on her. She could easily knock it away from him with a thought, but she knew it wouldn’t help the situation. If anything, it would just make everything worse. And the slight chance that the gun would go off and hit her anyway kept her from making any drastic decisions. For her child’s sake she had to be careful.

Leighton continued arguing with the old man, if not to allow her to stay, than to convince him to let them live. “No one understands your motivations better than she does. She has her own family to protect, growing within her. You know our laws, Emerson, you know that they won’t come for her. But you also know that Wiccans aren’t the only threat in this area. Please, allow her sanctuary.”

Emerson’s glare softened slightly and much to the pair’s relief, his finger relaxed from the trigger marginally. His gaze fell from Leighton’s to Jessamine’s belly, where she had rested a hand above her womb. Jessamine was a bit on the heavier side and she knew that the fat of her stomach might obscure how far along she truly was. However, for just two months (physically at least), she knew it wasn’t obvious yet. Still, he kept the gun aimed at them and they knew better than to try to approach him further.

“And so what? Why should I just take your word for it? For all I know, y’all could be using some kinda mind trick on me to brainwash me into obeying you. I also know that your society doesn’t gatekeep the use of magik. There are plenty of violent outliers,” Emerson dismissed, shaking his head slightly so as not to disable his aim.

Frustrated and feeling tears well up in her eyes, Jessamine moved around Leighton and approached the elderly man, marching forward until the shotgun barrel was pressing into her chest. She met his glare with a determined gaze of her own, though hers was decidedly less severe given the salty water that had accumulated on her lashes in desperation and stress

“Please,” she begged, ignoring the chilled metal that practically burned through the material of her shirt. “I know what you’re afraid of because I am, too. We face the same dangers, whether you acknowledge it or not. I will do anything to protect my baby and give them a safe and happy life. This is the safest place to do that. I get that dark practitioners are threats, but I do not participate in that sort of evil. I swear to you that no harm will come to you or your family as a result of my presence. I will use all of the magik at my disposal to make this a fortress, if that would make you more comfortable. Please, this is my last hope. I am utterly alone in this world and I have nothing to lose or cherish more than my baby. So please! Please!”

Jessamine felt pathetic and was on the verge of sobbing in front of this man. Tears streamed down her round face, but she tried to keep her facial features as smooth and neutral as possible. Her hands covered her stomach as much as they could, a final and useless layer of protection.

Emerson’s glare deepened a fraction before he tossed his head back and laughed. Yanking the gun back, he swung it so it was positioned over his shoulders. Shifting his position, he eyed the two considerably, with a huge grin and a sparkle in his eyes. “Well, why didn’t you just start with that? Shoot! Making my house a fortress? Darlin’, lemme help you with them bags.”

Both Leighton and Jessamine gaped after him as he put the shot gun away carefully and lifted two bags to carry inside. Leighton approached Jessamine from behind, laying a heavy hand on her shoulder. Craning her neck to look at him, she almost giggled at his expression. Mouth agape and his head shaking in disbelief, his mouth opened and closed as he struggled to find his voice.

“That was insane,” he breathed finally. This triggered an immediate response of Jessamine swallowing large mouthfuls of air as she was hit with the reality of the encounter. Everything hit her in that moment. Nathaniel’s death. Her isolation and banishment from her community. The year-long coma she had been forced into. The death threats and conspiracies that followed. Being abandoned by the Council and forced to flee. The weeks of driving. Jessamine was, for lack of better or truer terms, fucking exhausted. She was so fucking exhausted.

Not acknowledging Leighton’s words, she picked up a few bags herself and trailed after the old man.

The inside of the house was huge and largely decorated in wooden Western furnishings. Antlers and stuffed animals, mostly rodents, resided on the majority of the flat surfaces. They were all posed to face the entryway, as if in greeting. There was almost no technology that she could see besides a wall covered floor-to-ceiling with various radio and stereo models being flanked by columns upon columns of disks and records. The entryway was set into a living room, with a winding staircase leading to the second floor. A set of french doors revealed a workplace for Emerson’s taxidermy, the room glowed red from the stained lightbulbs. Another set of french doors -these were glass instead of wood- revealed a dining room that connected to a kitchen, which led to a sunroom and den.

Emerson walked ahead of Jessamine through the kitchen and into the den. Another smaller staircase was there and he began to ascend with a couple of her bags.

“We converted the attic into a living space when my youngest daughter wanted some ‘independence’ after high school before she moved out. It has a small kitchen and a full bathroom. No bedroom, that’s in the living room. I guess it’s what you young folk might call a studio apartment. Pretty spacious since it takes up the top floor of the house,” Emerson explained, opening a door at the top of the stair case and allowing Jessamine to walk ahead of him. Leighton’s heavy steps followed them sluggishly as he had handled more bags than the other two.

Indeed, the apartment was very spacious. Various skylights on the slanted ceiling allowed sun to light the entire place up for their viewing. Practically everything was covered in dust, including a few stacks of boxes that stood in the corner next to the door. Dust swirled in the air, the light fracturing off of it to make rainbows. A small television stood to the far left of the attic with a couple of couches and chairs surrounding it. Next to the boxes was an old desk and bookshelf, which stood empty. To the left of the television, on the far right wall, was a small lift. The lift was about a foot from the floor and had a large bed on top of it. Across from the bed was the kitchen, complete with a refrigerator, stove, sink, and a small dining area. Between the bed and kitchen was a small hallway with only two doors, one was a simple wooden door and the other was s sliding glass mirror; a bathroom and walk-in closet.

“It’s perfect! Thank you so much, Mr. Emerson,” said Jessamine jubilantly, twirling slowly in the center of the space to take it all in at once.

Smiling kindly at her and setting her bags down, Emerson responds, “I already know everyone calls me ‘Grandpa’. You might as well, too.”

Leighton walked in behind Grandpa and set Jessamine’s bags down gratefully, beyond relieved to not be carrying them further. He rubbed his sore shoulders and surveyed the apartment as well. “It’ll do nicely. That desk is great for when you have to bring work home,” he approved.

Grandpa lifted an eyebrow at the young man and crossed his arms. “Young man, I know you ain’t planning on working this woman in her condition,” he reprimanded.

Jessamine laughed, genuinely for the first time in what had felt like lifetimes. “No, don’t worry about that, Grandpa. I’m a historian. Bringing work home is just reading old tomes and translating runes, nothing strenuous.”

Leighton nodded vigorously, intimidated by the old man’s protectiveness. “I would never compromise her health for a few old books, Grandpa, on my word.”

Grandpa nodded along, content with that answer. “Well, all right. I’ll let you get settled. When you’re ready, come downstairs for some food and I’ll help you stock up that old kitchen and clean up.”

“Thank you again, Grandpa, you have no idea how much this means to me,” Jessamine repeated, turning to face the man as he began descending the stairway.

“I think I do, girl. My oldest daughter, Lucy? You remind me of her.” His voice was thick and emotional as he paused on the landing step.

“Is that why you let me stay?” She knew it to be true as soon as she asked, her senses lighting up in response.

“She and her boys are coming to live with me. They don’t know nothing about any of this. Of what goes on in this town. I don’t know how to explain it, how to prepare them. She wanted a better life for her sons. You wanted a better life for your little one. It wasn’t hard to make the connection,” he grunted.

Jessamine could tell he had missed his daughter, which led her to assume that he hadn’t seen Lucy in quite some time. The same could most likely be said for her sons. Jessamine empathized heavily with his situation and fully understood Grandpa’s underlying motive for allowing her there; she had promised to make the entire structure a fortress. He wouldn’t have to prepare them if Jessamine was already there to keep them safe. She don’t blame him, couldn’t actually, she would’ve done so no matter where she ended up living.

As Grandpa’s steps down the stairs faded, Jessamine reflected on what she had learned of this man as she began unpacking her belongings and cleaning up.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Emersons - Lucy, Michael and Sam - arrived three days later, and were in for two shocks when Grandpa faked a heart attack and then when they met Jessamine for the first time.

Lucy was a very sweet and compassionate woman who had a tendency to be a bit too lenient on her sons. She had just gotten out of a divorce and had decided to keep it as mess-free as possible. Like her, Lucy was looking for a new start for her family. Out of the three, she was definitely the most optimistic and excited about living in Santa Carla. She and Jessamine quickly bonded when Lucy found out she was pregnant. It was nice having another woman around and it made Jessamine realize that she hadn’t had a single conversation with another woman since entering Santa Carla.

Neither of her sons shared the sentiment.

Michael, the oldest, was nineteen and mostly ambivalent about the move. Jessamine could tell that he tried to remain open to it for his mother’s sake, but he wasn’t all that happy about it. A young adult who was entering his senior year in high school late, due to childhood illness, he was simply trying his best to adjust. He got along well with Jessamine, though her being there had confused him.

As to not make them suspicious, Jessamine and Grandpa had devised a story. Jessamine was a pregnant college student who Grandpa was hosting. Since he regularly had health scares and often forgot to feed himself actual meals, Jessamine earned her keep by checking up on Grandpa every so often and making his meals for him. Though not all that pleased with essentially being a live-in caretaker, it would suit her needs so that she could live and practice her magik in peace.

Grandpa wasn’t at all approving of her practice in the slightest. For one, he thought it was dangerous, both for her health and because he still wasn’t certain what sort of magik Jessamine practiced in. Most of all, he didn’t want his family to find out about her true nature or her real job as a magik historian. Still, they came to an agreement that Jessamine would keep her room locked at all times, whether she was in it or not, and that she would put up charms to keep anyone from seeing or finding out about the various ingredients, potions, spells, and books that would give insight to her being a Wiccan. She promised to go above and beyond to keep her secret from Grandpa’s daughter and her sons.

And while this wasn’t an issue for Lucy or Michael, Jessamine faced a bit of resistance from Lucy’s youngest son, fifteen-year-old Sam. Inquisitive and curious, Sam spent nearly an hour interrogating Jessamine as she tried to make a ‘Welcome Home’ dinner for the trio.

“I think Grandpa should’ve told us that he already had someone living here, doesn’t that make more sense?”

“I have no idea why he wouldn’t have, Sam, I don’t make a habit of reading his letters or helping him write them.”

“Nope, definitely weird. You’re way too hot to be just living here. I don’t believe it for a second.”

“As flattering as I think that was, I’m a bit offended you think I’m lying. Would anyone other than a broke college student go for this type of arrangement?”

“True, but you don’t seem like any old broke college student. Does this have something to do with you being knocked up? I haven’t heard anything about a father.”

Michael just so happened to walk in at Sam’s last question and promptly slapped him upside the head and shoved him aside so that he could walk between them with some boxes for the sunroom.

“You can’t go around saying shit like that, jackass. Plus, Mom told us not to bring it up,” he hissed, chastising Sam. “Apologize, now, idiot.”

Sam had the good sense to look ashamed of himself, realizing he had taken it too far. It seems like this was a reoccurring sequence of his. You felt for the kid if you were being honest, and you were impressed by his boldness.

“I’m real sorry, Jessamine, I shouldn’t have asked all that,” he apologized, looking down at his shoes bashfully.

You laughed lightly and he looked up at you hopefully. Smiling at him, you offer both boys a peace offering. “It’s fine, really. I mean, I get it. Y’all travelled all this way to be living with a weird old man and his 20-year-old friend who’s pregnant. I’d be feeling off about it, too. How about after dinner, we go check out the boardwalk? I haven’t been and your mom is headed that way to look for a job.”

Both boys visibly lit up at the opportunity to do something fun. After a long drive and hours of unpacking, with more to do the next day, boredom was leeching into their systems like a virus. Especially since Grandpa refused to own a television set. Sure, there was one in Jessamine’s room, but she couldn’t lug it down herself for them and they weren’t allowed in her room. For their sakes, she chose not to tell them about it at all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dwayne stood away from his brothers as the three of them flocked around a pretty girl who was trying to get an ice cream. They all took turns flirting with her, trying to see which one of them appealed to her the most. Usually, Dwayne would happily participate in these types of games, but he’d felt off lately, and started spending most of his time out with Star and Laddie.

He wasn’t complaining, he adored them both with his whole heart, just as he did his brothers and father. It was just that the idea of having sex or being around women, which he has never had trouble with before, was completely unappealing. And he knew it wasn’t just inside his head because Paul and Marko had begun teasing him about it for months already. Which is why he preferred Star’s company.

It also didn’t hurt that he could acknowledge how beautiful she was without cringing. He had always thought so, back when they had first found her. He flirted with her just as his brothers had and, in the rare moment of assertiveness, he had been the one to offer her Max’s blood to turn her. Dwayne would never consider actually being with her, romantically or sexually. He could just tell that he wasn’t hers to have. And he didn’t want to be. It didn’t feel right. But he could be with her in these moments, silently and peacefully watching over Laddie and making sure his brothers don’t cause too much trouble.

The girl that David, Paul and Marko had been bothering had taken an interest in Marko, and Dwayne could practically feel his elation at having won the game and being able to have his fun with her. As he quirkily extended an elbow for the girl to take so that he could walk her somewhere more private and romantic, Dwayne had rolled his eyes humorously.

And that’s when he saw her.

A girl, couldn’t be over 5’2, walking in between two teenage boys, all three of them looking around the board walk in wonder.

She was curvy, and plump in all the areas that Dwayne liked best. She wore a white lacy top, which was low cut and exposed her chubby tummy. Dwayne’s eyes caught on her large breasts, which he tried to feel bad about before he decided to soak in as much of her as he could. Her long skirt was also white but has pink and green ruffles, similar to one of Star’s skirts. She was decorated in dull gold - belts, hair rings, necklaces and bracelets. Her brown fringe was medium length and was pulled back and out of her face by hair ornaments. Her features were hispanic and her skin was a pleasant shade of caramel. It had been centuries since Dwayne had craved anything but blood and all of the sudden, the sight of a single woman had given him a sweet tooth that rivaled Augustus Gloop.

Her scent wafted to him and he felt like he could survive off of it alone. Cinnamon rolls and peaches. Fuck.

David and Paul were approaching where he and Star were, climbing onto their bikes. Star clambered up behind David and held onto him. Usually Laddie would ride with Dwayne, but Dwayne lifted him up and saddled the boy with Paul. Ignoring them all as they called out it him over his strange behavior and lack of explanation, he strode off away from them.

Following the warm and sweet scent of cinnamon rolls and peaches.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

AAHSHFHFH CHAPTER THREE FINALLY

I wanted to do another chapter before leaving on vacation and i was struggling with writers block. i knew how i wanted to do the reveal and all that but none of the in-between content.

And finally, actual plot. I’d spent so much time on the back story that i was worried that it would be too boring. Anyways, i want to post more preferences, headcanons and one shots so if you are interested in that, reblog and tag what you’d want me to write. Remember that I don’t just write for The Lost Boys, if you’re interested. If you’re not interested, then just leave a like :)

Enjoy and await updates!

[electricbluebutterflies]

Joel/Tess + a possessive kiss that is meant to stake a claim

Later-era, PG13-ish, also on ao3.

Some things never change.

As long as there are human beings, some will find a way to make alcohol with whatever materials are available and others will use that to create social environments. To call this place a nightclub feels like a stretch, but an effort was at least made with the same resilience as everything else that manages to be semi-functional in the QZ, and-

The amount of deals she has to make in what could be more accurately described as a postapocalyptic dive bar is, at present, the least of Tess’s problems. And the drink currently in her hand, tasteless as straight vodka but likely far more creative and questionable in its origins, is not going to be enough to fix them.

She’s gotten possessive as time has passed, as she’s become more aware of the depth of her own desires. The emotional side of her domestic dynamic is hit or miss, but the physical is easier to define – roommates with exclusive benefits, last time she checked. At least, exclusive on her side because having someone reliable to climb on top of when the mood hits is convenient and-

Tess knows what is hers. She’s less sure if anyone else does.

They were supposed to meet a potential new contact an hour ago, but no one by the right description has turned up and she’d gotten the bright idea to make an evening of it anyways. A date without calling it a date, because they’re not like that, because that would mean expressing useless feelings and why would she ever do that, and-

Her social perceptions aren’t always what they could be, but she’s pretty sure she’s watching someone else try to flirt with her partner and she’s less sure what she can do about it. Less sure how he’s defined the relationship when they’re apart, less sure who thinks she’s what to him. They’re a combined entity as far as most of the mutual acquaintances are concerned, but that doesn’t necessarily mean lovers, and-

She takes another sip of her drink and decides to do something reckless despite the uncertainty.

Despite, well, everything, Tess would never consider herself impulsive. Adaptable when the situation calls for it, but usually with some past planning behind it, never loose or feral. The brain cells of the partnership, because someone has to be; the people person, to the extent neither of them actually is. If body language were different – if it looked like her partner might actually be interested in this woman who looks an easy ten years younger than herself and wow that’s going to be fun to mentally untangle later – she’d let this all go and save her fury for when the only way to drown out how loud the neighbors are is to pick a fight of her own. But she knows him too well, and he looks that particular kind of mildly uncomfortable but just a little too polite about it, and-

Circumstances as they are, it feels right to clear the distance and pull him down for the kind of kiss that she’ll have to explain later. She’s rarely even this intense in private; if they’ve done anything on this level in public, she can’t remember it, and she would. Screwing against a wall somewhere deserted, yes, but the whole point of that is that no one else sees, whereas this…

Joel growls into her mouth, and this may have been a wild choice for her but at least it’s a mutually desired one. She likes the control she has, how she could probably do whatever she wants and he’d let her, the fire of them and-

“That clear enough?” she hisses, tilting her head to make very pointed eye contact with the other woman. “Mine, understand? Mine.”

Her lover, for his part, is looking at her that way he does when she’s managed to legitimately surprise him. Eyes big, edge of desire, he may actually pin her when they get home and she’ll enjoy every second. Hers, she thinks again. Hers above all else.

“You don’t half-ass,” he murmurs, one of his hands still on her waist. A dozen years they’ve known each other, most of that on this kind of level, and still the wonder of it all and-

“Didn’t look like she was taking a hint,” Tess replies, subconsciously licking her lower lip. “I did what I had to do.”

“Don’t start what you won’t finish.”

“I’m going to enjoy you finishing me. You know that.”

She’s about to move her body just so to discretely check if she’s managed to get a lower physical reaction from him, and-

The door opens, and apparently their potential contact has no sense of time. Dammit.

“You wanna handle this or should I?” she asks, half tempted to cancel the interaction entirely.

“Together. Just a conversation. Nothing…”

“Just making sure we don’t hate this guy on sight. Which I kinda do right now, but…”

Just a conversation, she repeats in her mind as they approach. Shouldn’t take too long. Won’t take too long. She has more important things to do after.

[chamerionwrites]

Personally speaking, the reason I'm picky about first person has less to do with characterization per se than it does with narrative distance. A lot of people handle it as if it's a very close POV, when in fact it's usually one of the more distant and constructed ones.

What I mean by this is that we typically only take the first person pronoun when we're talking about ourselves, to other people. Imo close third or a certain kind of second person (in which the narrator and the "you" of the narration are the same - in other words, a snapshot of a character talking to themselves) are much better representations of what most people's inner monologues are like. The strength of those POVs is that the author can give the audience direct access to a character's inner life, without the character knowing that they're being observed. Other forms of third person accomplish basically the same thing, just with varying degrees of distance and subjectivity. It's fly-on-the-wall narration: the voice of a storyteller who exists outside the story, regardless of whether their perspective is from just over the protagonist's shoulder or from 10000 feet up.

First person is the voice of a storyteller who exists INSIDE the story. Crucially, this means that not only do character and narrator merge; it means that the audience splits. You, the reader, may not be the intended audience that the narrator is addressing, but they are very consciously addressing someone. The conceit of the Sherlock Holmes stories is that Watson isn't just the narrator - he's the author, and he's publishing them. The Sympathizer is framed as a written confession. Sometimes the audience is never directly specified, but - implicitly if not explicitly - any story told in first person exists in-story as a constructed narrative, by someone with a personal stake in how it's received.

That's why first person is the POV of the unreliable narrator. Even without direct intent to deceive, most people aren't willing to spill their guts to strangers! So the more openly and honestly a first person story is told, the more explicit in-story justification I need as a reader about who the intended audience is and why the narrator feels comfortable revealing their innermost thoughts and feelings before I can suspend my disbelief. The more clear-sighted and self-aware the narration is, the more limited the author is as to the kind of particularly insightful and self-aware character who can believably tell that story. And even if the character/narrator is the most honest and unselfconscious and self-aware person on the planet (which frankly runs a risk of being boring), even if they're telling the story to their best friend or their diary - first person still implies a certain level of distance and reflection and artifice between the events of the story and the telling of it. Personally I find it all but unreadable in the present tense (and fanfic loves present tense), because a constructed narrative necessarily implies time to process and construct.

All of which is to say that bad characterization is clunky in any point of view, and imho the pressure to absolutely nail the character voice in every line isn't any more intense with first person than with close third. But I do think that the mere existence of a first-person narrative is in itself characterization, and there are a lot of situations and characters for which it doesn't work well - or at least, that require a lot of extra effort from an author in order to make it work well. If the primary character is a paranoid spy living deep undercover, then truthful and open first-person narration is bad characterization in and of itself unless there's a damn good reason otherwise written into the text.

TL;DR good first person POV has a certain amount of story-within-a-story built in. As the author, you're not just crafting a story for your audience; you're crafting a story as told by a character for another separate audience, and trying to make it work on both of those levels at once. That multi-layeredness, when handled well, is one of first person's storytelling strengths! But I do think it can be tricky to handle or just plain easy to overlook. And I do think that when amateurish (no shade, just. A lot of fanfic writers are doing it as a casual hobby, by definition) writers overlook that, they often end up using a POV tool that really lends itself best to distance and slippery subjectivity in order to tell very direct, low-subtext, here-is-what-happened kinds of stories.

Which, yeah, does tend to land as especially flat and clunky and unconvincing.

The reason 1st Person POV is so derided in fanfic is because of characterization. In 3rd Person POV, you just have to convince us that the character would say or do that thing, and if not we’re sometimes willing to overlook it for the sake of the plot. In 1st Person, every single line of the story needs to feel In-Character, and OOC moments become grating faster because by sheer statistics they feel like they happen more often.

You basically have to find an author who perfectly vibes with your interpretation of that character and who’s a good enough writer that it doesn’t feel clunky. Original fiction doesn’t have this problem nearly so much, because there’s no pre-built expectations. “Ah, so this is what this character thinks when confronted with this thing? Good to know.” As opposed to fanfic, where the reader will often find themselves going, “No, that’s not what they’d think if they saw that. No, that’s not how they’d feel if someone said that. No, this narration is incorrect.” 

After being burned like that a certain number of times, lots of readers end up with a Pavlovian response. They see 1st Person POV, they see that first “I,” and they’re immediately annoyed because 1st Person POV stories have so often annoyed them in the past. They start avoiding them out of principle.

(This is not dissimilar to the problem with 2nd Person POV in any format, outside of maybe Choose Your Own Adventure novels. The author directly tells you, the reader, how you think/feel/react, and you, the reader, go, “WTF, no I don’t!” Which then jerks you out of the immersion & makes the story less enjoyable.)

None of which is to say don’t use those formats if you enjoy them. Just… I saw some people expressing frustration over the general distaste fandom culture seems to have for 1st Person POV, and while I don’t want to get involved in that argument, I did want to explain. For general information, I guess.

[kishibei]

CONSUME — SUGURU GETO X READER (≤1k)

KINKTOBER DAY 3: olfactophila, cunnilingus, teasing, edging, (very mild/implied) body worship, 18+.

you don't deserve it. and you almost feel guilty with the way he's taking his time with you.

he starts slowly, just barely dragging the tip of his nose along the length of your leg. you're aware he's smelling you, the long inhales are primal, like he's trying to take in every bit of you before he's ready to pounce. the distinctive scent of arousal is just dripping off you, it’s deep and ambrosial, like nothing he’s experienced before.

you know it's coming, the part where he advances and stakes his claim over you. it gets your heart jumping, and the once steady thrum of your chest grows irregular when he pauses at your core.

the tension of the moment is thick and palpable. everything about the scene has you holding your breath, the sight of him between your legs alone makes your head spin. your heart is in your throat and the sound of blood rushing to your ears is so loud that you almost don't hear what he's saying. past your heavy lids and through your lashes you can see his mouth moving, but the words he's spilling don't quite reach you yet.

it sounds something like, "still with me, doll?"

he practically purrs it out to you, and you notice he licks his lips before he says it. you dont think too much of it at first but the way he's stringing words like honey and silk, it's clear he does it just to tease you. and knowing that simple fact doesn't help to ground you at all.

geto doesn't quite care for a response to his question and you're aware he doesn't expect one either. he was the kind of predator who liked to dress himself in sheep's clothing, asking silly things knowing he didn't even listen past his own voice. he plays his role well and if you were dumb enough, you'd take his false concern for what it looked like. but you’d always known full well what the things he said meant, even when he didn't state them explicitly.

your boyfriend doesn't play fair, and he never really has. except he's been dragging this little game on for over an hour, and now his usual teasing is starting to border along the foul lines of torture.

the small breaths he offers your glimmering sex have you writhing, and he laughs mockingly. you couldn't run from him and even if you wanted to, he knows you wouldn't. his normally sturdy hands ghosting over the flesh of your hips were proof of that. he inches closer and closer, stopping just when the tip of his nose bumps against your clit.

geto thinks you're desperate, he knows you'll accept just any bit of contact, so he immediately looks up to catch your response. as expected, you’ve halfway lost your mind at the action. bucking your hips wildly, you wordlessly beg the man for a small amount of friction. and just like that, he pulls away.

“suguru...” you cry, trying to pull him closer.

the whine you offer is pathetic. and when the sobs reach your ears, it doesn't even sound like your own voice. its really a shame how much control the man has over you, just how unrecognizable you become once he's split your thighs and situated himself between them. your patience has worn thin and any bit of pride you'd once had has dissipated with it.

the only thing that exists is him. only him and the need to be his perfect sacrificial lamb. to be patient and dedicate your body to him, maybe just then he'd give you what you'd so desperately wanted. and as if he’s read your mind, geto’s on you.

it's the complete antithesis to his methods before. his lips latch onto your cunt, pressing sloppy wet kisses to it before he finds the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top. the way his tongue explores your folds borders along violence, and when you finally build up the courage to look down, you immediately tear you eyes off the sight.

geto is fully a mess when he meets your gaze. his face is dripping with your fluids, so much so that the hairs escaping his ponytail have stuck to the sides of his chin like they'd been glued there on purpose. heat creeps up your body and you shut your eyes hard. its only the vibrations his deep laugh offers that has you opening your lids again.

"c'mon, look at me," he teases, readjusting to grip your chin, pulling it down to focus on him. "don't tell me you're thinking of someone else?"

"i'm not..." you manage to sputter.

"so look at me, or i might have to stop..."

his empty threat snaps you back to reality and you give him an affirmative nod, lifting your hips back to his face to push him to continuing.

geto's stare is dark, and once he goes back down on you, he makes a big deal of collecting what dribbles down from your cunt to your other pulsating hole. he's obnoxiously loud, and he's doing so on purpose. even as you cry, moan, and whimper his name, the embarrassing squelch of your pussy always seems to be louder.

intense eye contact, the assault of his tongue on your sore clit, and finally the feeling of him slotting his fingers into your sopping hole push you over the edge. shaking and wildly bucking your hips, tears begin to cloud your vision. before you realize it, you're violently coming on geto's face.

"that's it," he mumbles between licks. picking up on your cues, he quickly replaces his fingers with his tongue, beyond willing to savor every drop of your release.

geto doesn't let go until you're panting and gripping his head, pulling him off your poor overstimulated pussy with an exaggerated pop.

you're sure you're spent, but your boyfriend's next line has you ready to get back at it again. wiping his chin with a smirk, he looks up at you.

"so when is it my turn?"

©2022 HIROUIMI do not repost, modify, dist. or translate.