#but i would still want to do it in the context

[noisyghost]

(I started sketching this design nearly immediately after season 2 ended but just now had some time to clean it up so. Excuse me rambling out loud here)

TLDR; I actually really liked the initial design + direction for Warwick-Vander (I <3 human faced werewolves)! But the show design kinda felt like a transitory state between Vander and Warwick to me, so I wanted to try my hand at blending his Arcane design with his in game design. Like a "what would he look like if the transformation kept going" kinda thing. There's a few things I'm not fully settled on, but Im mostly satisfied :)

(rambling under the readmore, its 3 am as i type this lol)

When season 2 first started, I sort of had it in my head that the narrative would have Vander "die" for Warwick to finish the transformation into his final form, forcing Vi and Jinx to finally say goodbye together. Well! That didn't happen lol. I mean. Vander did "die", but whatever was left behind isn't really Warwick. I'm not quite sure what they were going for, either with him or with how Jinx "dies", its all just a little messy when i feel like there was a more obvious narrative conclusion.

Visually i think the final design in the show is cool removed from context, but it doesn't really make sense to me in regards to the story. Like. Warwicks whole thing is that he curbs his violent impulses by killing "bad guys" in the undercity. League lore is a hot fucking mess and I don't even go there so I get that they (the writers) were playing fast and loose but I can see why so many Warwick fans were less than pleased with where the show leaves him, because it doesn't really feel like the same character outside of his initial experimentation.

In my own idea palace, Jinx fakes her death and leaves Warwick to be Zaun's new mascot. Having this literal monster that eats bad guys and saves innocent people in the process become a new symbol for Zaun feels like a no brainer to me. Imagine the iconography they'd make for this thing! And it brings Vanders whole schtick back around; he still "dies" but the Literal Memory of him lives on in Zaun, still protecting the people he cared about most. You get the bittersweet ending of Vi and Jinx having to move on because hes not really their dad anymore, but their memory is what keeps Warwick "human", still with Zaun even if Vi is doing Piltover shit and Jinx is off exploring the world.

Idk! I know the implication that Jinx faked her death is there, but whatever happens to Warwick seems to be like they didnt really have the time to fully explore the ideas they were going for, so a couple characters just got kinda left floating at the end there. If Ekko and Jinx werent going to run away together, I wanted to see Ekko befriending Warwick so they could fight to make Zaun a better place.

I have more coherent ideas than this but it's 3 am when im typing this so sorry if im not eloquent enough to properly explain what im thinking. Ekko and his weird dog that used to be his uncle. Imagine.

[love-byers]

milevens saying we're hypocrites for saying el needs independence outside of a relationship but wanting will to end up in a relationship is so funny bc it shows they have no actual grasp on societal narratives

women have had relationships with men forced on them since the beginning of time. women have been conditioned to believe they NEED a man in their life. they NEED to be dependent on a man. they NEED to get married and have children. and rarely to we get representation of female characters choosing independence from a man. im not saying all straight romance is bad, of course not, but in this context it would be meaningful to see el, who has literally never experienced a single day where she was not dependent on a man, not have her arc defined by her relationship with mike, and instead on her own independence, empowerment, and choices.

gay people, on the other hand, have been deprived of love and the ability to be in a relationship with someone they love since the beginning of time. gay people have been conditioned to believe that they cannot have love. they cannot give in to their desires. they cannot be together. in the 80s, teenage boys who experienced same sex attraction were literally told to ignore it because lots of men dealt with that and it just goes away and you can marry a woman like no problem. i mean do i really need to explain why it would be empowering to see a love story between two boys in a story set in the 80s? have these people never heard of the aids crisis????

its about challenging societal norms. it is normal for a woman to date a man. it is not 'normal' for a man to date a man. it is that simple.

and to those mlvns who say el can both be empowered on her own independent arc and still date mike, please stop pretending to want mike to have a meaningful arc in s5. you want mike to be a sidekick malewife for el, and that is exactly what he doesn't want to be. he doesn't want to be what el comes home to after being a kickass superhero. he wants to feel needed, necessary, and empowered as well. and that is simply not the dynamic of he and el's relationship. meanwhile, will is the one who encourages him and reminds him that he is a strong leader and that he is needed. will is the person mike wants to be a team with. mike and will empower each other and lift each other up and make each other feel capable and needed. they are a team, not a superhero sidekick situation.

if i see one more dogshit take like this i may just lose my mind. like please just stop speaking

[dreamerimpossible]

Slasher Reaction When You're Not Interested In Sex

Warnings: +18 content, manipulation, obsession, unhealthy relationships, dark content, there is a hint of non-con in Art the Clown and Alex DeLarge (are you surprised?), angst, mentions of infidelity in some.

Characters: Michael Myers, Chucky, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Patrick Bateman, Hannibal Lecter, Vincent Sinclair, Jason Voorhees, Leatherface, Art The Clown, Jason Dean, Alex DeLarge, Kurt Kunkle, Brahms.

Michael Myers

Does he really care about that stuff? I feel like you'd have to actively provoke him to get him interested in having sex with you. If you don't bring out that side of him, he won't care. Seriously, he doesn't care. It's quite likely that he won't even care whether or not you want to have sex. He'd rather have you have a bad side that you can't control, something that makes you more like him than anyone else. He'll enjoy that badness and chaos. Sex takes a backseat.

Chucky (Human Version)

I honestly don't think it would work. However, if he really wants to keep you for himself, you'll have to agree to let him have sex with other people. In that case, I think it would work. He'll try to convince you anyway, but he won't force you if you say no. But you'll probably fight, because he'll think it's personal and that you have something against him, and then you'll have an argument that escalates and you'll end your relationship in the worst way. After that they'll get back together and then break up again. And so on. Although, if we're being honest, that scenario is going to happen either way (Chucky is toxic).

Billy Loomis

Okay, he will. But he'll be very manipulative; he'll push you all the time about it, and it'll be much worse if you know he's Ghostface since he might threaten you, and his manipulations will be much worse than if he was pretending to be a good boyfriend. I think you'd eventually agree, but he'll get used to you giving it to him, and it'll be much worse when you say no. I think he wouldn't force you physically, but he'll pretty much use psychological manipulation to get you to do what he wants from you, which is still forcing.

Stu Macher

If you're just another low-level conquest, he'll cheat on you or leave you for someone else. If you're someone special, he'll stick with you even though he gets frustrated. He could be very loyal if you push his weaknesses correctly without Billy finding out. He will insist that you have sex with him in a silly way, acting innocent and playful, but you will be able to see his disappointed and upset face when you say no. However, if you play your cards right, I think he might continue with you without cheating on you; but you have to manipulate him, which will make your relationship even more toxic, but at this point…who cares?

Patrick Bateman

Tough scenario for you. If he thinks you are a person worthy of him, but you just happen not to want to have sex as often as he does, he will overlook that little flaw of yours. However, that doesn't mean it will be good. He wants you to admire him, to be the center of his life, to moan his name loud enough for everyone to hear. If he doesn't feel that way in the sexual realm as well, he will end up cheating on you with other people, but he will keep you by his side selfishly.

Hannibal Lecter

He doesn't care. Just give him control over you in all the other areas of your life. Give him the pleasure of watching you break down to the point of questioning your own morals and life choices. Make him play with your mind and show him your reactions. Tell him everything that happens to you so he can see if he can use it in some way. Give him a challenge and keep him entertained with your conversations. Provide him with a context that leaves him in euphoria and maximum exaltation. If you can do that…who needs sex?

Vincent Sinclair

He will be slightly disappointed, but he will respect you. He will not treat you differently or anything like that. He will not cheat on you or betray you in any way either. He will be very frustrated if Bo finds out and starts bothering him, but it is nothing he cannot handle. Other than that, I don't see any other problems. He cares more about your loyalty and that you follow the orders imposed on you. That's all.

Jason Voorhees

The best scenario for him. It will be much better if you do not want to have sex ever. He likes not having to fight those instincts that disturb him greatly. It's not even going to be brought up; just tell him you're not interested, and the subject will be forgotten as if it never even existed. This doesn't change your relationship at all. In fact, I think it will be better, because for Jason you won't be an unwanted temptation for him, so he won't have two opposing thoughts about you to deal with.

Leatherface

It's okay; he'll understand. He won't force you or anything like that. He won't treat you differently either. I don't think he cares about those things, if I'm honest. He's more focused on his family and loyalty. And that includes you too. He asks that you get along with his family and be okay with what they do. That you don't have a problem, basically.

Art the Clown

He doesn't care in the conventional way. But if he finds out that the subject is sensitive for you, he will use it against you. So it's best not to let it show or say anything to him, because this man is a fucking madman who enjoys other people's pain (you know that). If you don't say it, the subject will go unnoticed for a long time. If Art ever feels sexual desire towards you and wants to have sex with you, he will simply take you and use you. Seriously, he won't ask questions. He sees you as his toy.

Jason Dean

For him not to care, you would have to be crazy like him. In that case, he will overlook it, because he will believe that something as crude as sex does not have to hinder a love as perfect as yours. I think that at first he will feel personally offended by your refusal; he will try to explain to you that he feels rejected. If you explain it sincerely, he will understand and will not insist further. But he will use it against you in arguments to get you to give him more attention and spend more time with him, claiming that he does a lot of things for you.

Alex DeLarge

Uh… no. He wouldn't take you seriously if you didn't want to have sex as much as he does. He likes sex quite a bit; he's not going to give that up. I think he might keep you around if you like ultraviolence and enjoy it as much as he does. I don't think he'll leave behind a person to help him and follow his orders. But you two can't be a couple; it just wouldn't work. He'll actively try to provoke you into falling for it. In your case, it would be much more fun if you gave it to him consensually, because that would mean he has complete control over you and can make you do things he wants of your own free will. However, if he doesn't want you around him because he's not interested in you in any way other than sexually… then things get darker. We already know his tendencies.

Kurt Kunkle

If he doesn't feel rejected, he doesn't care. If he feels rejected, the relationship will be more toxic. He is manipulative and obsessive. He wants you to admire and love him; if he feels that you dislike him sexually, he will not force you, but he will be excessively controlling, and you will argue a lot. He uses it to victimize himself. There will come a point where he becomes a nuisance to you. On the other hand, if he does not feel rejected, that is fine; he will be toxic in other aspects of the relationship.

Brahms

He will take it personally, no matter what you tell him. He will manipulate you, and it will be emotionally draining for you. You will probably agree on several occasions to get him to shut up, or you will end up manipulating him with sex to obey you. He will obey you every time if you offer him sex. He would like to resist, but he is too hungry for contact and needs to feel the sensation.

[plainclothesdisaster]

“What the hell am I looking at.”

Batman stands next to him, arms folded, appraising the same piece of plain notebook paper on the table. To the untrained eye it looks like someone has scrawled a handful of shitty doodles and notes on it. But to John Constantine’s eye? Well, he was thanking his very limited lucky stars that he didn’t have a personal encounter with whatever god or demon that had given that paper to Bats in the first place.

Batman frowns. “I don’t know. That’s what you’re here for.”

“And if I told you I don’t want to touch whatever this is with a ten foot pole?”

Batman points to a green sticky note stuck on the paper’s bottom corner.

Call the Hellblazer if you need a tutorial.

Well, fuck. So much for flying under the radar.

“So. You know what it is.” Bats says it as a statement not a question, which is, of course, accurate. John knew what it was before Batman even led him to the black table at the center of the Batcave, where the paper sat in the center like some delicate work of art. The whole cave smacked of ozone and ectoplasm from the second he walked in. It’s positively filled with potential energy on a cosmic scale, emanating from that single, annoyingly unassuming source.

“That,” John starts, resenting the no-smoking-in-the-Batcave rule now more than ever, “Is a summoning sigil. A very powerful summoning sigil. How in hell did you end up with it?”

Bats hands him yet another green sticky note. This one reads:

Use in cases of: Mind control, literal apocalypse (ONLY if my fault). That’s it. Nothing else. If you do I will know and I will permanently turn off the gravity in the Watchtower as payback.

Thought I’d save you the trouble of making my file yourself.

-D

P.S. No spoilers, John. :)

Bats re-folds his arms. “It was given to me by a coworker.”

It’s a contingency plan, John realizes. One of Batman’s trademark ideas that piss everyone off but he does anyway. Usually the League Members didn’t personally and willingly hand over their personal kryptonite, though. John certainly hadn’t. And there’s also the issue that most Leaguers kryptonite isn’t this powerful.

“Care to enlighten me which of your coworkers is on a first name basis with the Ancient of Time?”

“Hn.”

“Not ringing any bells? How about this then: which Leaguer is strong enough that their contingency plan is giving you the personal calling card of a god?”

“He knows you.”

And John is just so thrilled that two of his names showed up in the context of god-summoning. So neat for him. Not problematic in the slightest. What’s only slightly less problematic is that he doesn’t know who wrote the notes- none of the current Justice League members fit the bill. Not that he’s ever been good at keeping up with the cape parade, but he would have known if something this powerful stepped this close to his territory.

Unless…

“When you say coworker, what exactly do you mean?”

“Does it matter?”

“You don’t typically make contingency plans for non JL members.”

“He values his privacy.”

Not a member of the Justice League, then. Powerful enough to hide in plain sight and also have an Ancient on speed dial. Self aware enough to deliver this nuclear option of a contingency plan.

John knows who it is.

The only question left is why the fuck Batman has the Ancient of Space, King of all Ghosts, on his maintenance staff.

But he won’t ask that, because according to that cheeky little sticky note, Batman didn’t know. And John is not about to piss off an Ancient by spoiling his gig.

“Well Bats. If you end up needing to use it you just prick your finger, touch the circle, and say that bit of Latin there.” He waves his fingers at the scribbles, still unwilling to get any closer. “But I hope for all our sakes that you never need it.”

“And why’s that?”

John resists rolling his eyes. He doesn’t resist the urge to grab a cigarette and put it between his lips. He’s not planning on sticking around much longer anyways. “Because if you do, it means we’re fucked. Like, cosmically.”

Batman glares at the cigarette but decides not to comment.

“Look mate I don’t want to get involved in your hiring practices, but have you considered background checks?”

“I trust him.”

“I should hope so.”

John sighs. He can feel a headache coming on. Batman didn’t just hand out his trust willy-nilly, so the king in disguise must have done something to earn it. It’s not much solace, but he’ll take it.

DPxDC Mechanical Engineer Danny

Danny caught the attention of Batman while studying at Gotham University for his alternative energy projects. He’s hired right out of college to work on the Watchtower.

He shows absolutely no tell of his abilities till there’s a dire situation- Flash’s electric discharge messes with one of his projects in progress and the whole base would have lost air pressure if he hadn’t done a quick fix using telekinesis and ice.

Of course Batman notices.

Batman assumes the worst- he suspects Danny’s a rogue of some kind, someone who has infiltrated the Justice League with an ulterior motive. But he can’t just fire Danny now- he’s the only one who knows how the new Watchtower energy source works. Plus, he’s not letting Danny go anywhere until he’s figured out his true motives.

Cue Batman subtly testing Danny- tossing things at him to trigger inhuman fast reflexes, having him lift too-heavy machinery, setting up convenient opportunities to steal or snoop or otherwise be up to no good. Danny does take advantage but only once, to use a computer terminal with unlocked clearance. He didn’t plant any bugs that Barman could find, and he otherwise kept up his powerless civilian act perfectly.

Still, Batman’s not satisfied. He brings an infrasonic sound emitter to Danny’s lab one day, and that, of all things, is what gets Danny to break.

“I know what you’re doing,” Danny admits with a sigh, finally. “If you’re really that suspicious of me, I can leave, but I kinda like my job so I’d prefer not to. The benefits are insane compared to what’s standard.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure. yeah. How about you turn off the freaking noise generator and we can talk?”

“Hm.” Batman obliges, and he takes the stool next to Danny at his gesture.

“Number one, I’m not a meta. Despite all the data and conclusions you’ve probably drawn otherwise. Number two, I’m on your side. I’m here to work on the base, that’s it. I follow your rules to the letter.”

“The-“

“The classified files I looked at? Yeah that was the one exception. You already know what I looked at, I’m sure, but maybe you haven’t figured out why. It goes back to point one- I may not be a meta, but I am something that organization, the GIW, cares about. I looked at your files on them to sus out your relations. Seeing as I don’t particularly love being the victim to twelve degrees of human rights violations if I can avoid it.”

“Hm.” The Ghost Intelligence Ward was one of many government agencies that the Justice League hadn’t worked closely with. But they also hadn’t been flagged for Justice League investigation. Danny’s comments made him doubt that call.

“Any other questions?”

“If you’re not a meta, what are you?”

“I’m an engineer. A pretty decent one. And I’d really, really like it to stay that way.”

Batman considers, and ultimately lets him stay. He likes Danny (everyone likes Danny), and it would be a massive pain in the ass to replace him. He really is a good engineer.

It’s only much later that his faith in Danny is repaid in spades.

Batman finds Danny on the Watchtower command bridge. Alarms are blaring, the station has been knocked out of orbit, out the window there’s shrapnel floating everywhere as a space battle rages around them.

On the station it’s chaos. Technicians run around, shouts from the med bay, sparks from the walls.

Batman and Danny stand at the main controls, watching the battle outside, stoic, unmoving.

Wonder Woman’s harried voice crackles through on coms: “We need backup.”

“There is no more backup.” Batman replies, while looking pointedly at Danny.

“What?”

Batman doesn’t move.

“What.”

“The impact from Darkseid’s initial attack should have sent this station on a terminal trajectory toward the planet.”

“Well. We aren’t currently plummeting to our deaths, so turns out it didn’t do that.”

“You did something.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re lying.”

“Maybe Superman nudged us back on course in all the chaos.”

“I’ve been watching the trackers. No one else with the capability has come near the station.”

“Can’t you just be grateful we got lucky?”

Sounds of peril screech over the coms. Danny’s face scrunches.

“Luck had nothing to do with it. As it is now, we are going to lose this fight.”

“Isn’t there anyone else you can call?”

“I’m asking you. You can help, can’t you?”

The glare-off lasts a long moment more before Danny breaks.

“Fuck. Fuckity fuck.” Danny runs his hands through his hair. “Shit. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I’m asking you to save this and countless other worlds from a genocide. I’m also asking you to save my friends.”

Danny looks at him, hard, weary, and with a kind of deep resolve that feels far too ancient to be on the face of a supposed twenty-something.

“Fine. Fine. Okay.” He steps back and transforms. If Batman is surprised when he shakes off his human appearance like an old coat, he doesn’t show it. But what’s undeniable is the being in Danny’s place has the unmistakable presence of power.

“No one else can know.” His voice echoes in a way that’s sonically impossible, both sounding closer and further away than he should be.

He pulls a gear-shaped medallion seemingly out of thin air and puts it over his head in one motion.

“If I get in trouble for this, I’m blaming you.”

He vanishes. Outside, the shape of the battle changes instantly. The stars seem to glow brighter as the arms of the galaxy flash with the colors of the aurora. Then it’s like the void of space itself comes alive. It moves the spaceships back like they’re toys, plucking them from one side of the field to the other. It finds Darkseid at the heart of the chaos and massive arms of nothingness and darkness wrap around him. He’s screaming as it swallows him whole.

His armies scatter. The battle turns. The JL deal with the stragglers, but the air of relief is palpable.

Danny reappears next to Batman, once again donning his grease-stained coveralls. Arms folded.

“Happy?”

It took all of five minutes. Less, probably. Batman tamps down a thousand questions.

“Thank you.”

“I’m gonna need two weeks off minimum.” Danny snaps. “One to deal with the bureaucratic nightmare you’ve just caused me, and another to recover from the headache.”

Batman blanks. “Granted.”

Danny sighs. “And I’m not fixing the station until I’m back. It won’t fall out of the sky as is. Make up whatever excuse you want.”

“Done.” He considers. “I would prefer to tell them the truth. That you saved us.”

Danny glares. “I’m not supposed to save you. I made a pact not to use my power to influence the mortal realm.”

“A pact with who?”

Danny rolls his eyes. “The embodiment of Time. The concept of Justice. Among others.” He smirks at Batman’s confusion.

“And what, exactly, does that make you?”

He stands, framed by the space window, haloed by the stars. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

Batman frowns.

“Look. I like you guys. I like working on your base. I like supporting the work you do. But you can not go factoring me in to any of your plans or contingencies. This was a one time thing.

“So to answer your question again: I’m an engineer.”

[signanothername]

Off topic but I still remember when you answered an ask on how would your killer react to seeing dadmare and I remember that the dadmare version looked softer , even if the art style remained the same, like you could trust him, like if he's talking to a long time friend of his

Like you can tell he's nice, that he's not a cruel leader, just by his expression

Sorry I just needed to point it out

Context

Hchchchc no don’t be sorry Anon, thank you actually hehehehe

I did in fact, keep it in mind when drawing the comic, I wanted to give that sense of safety and trust from Dadmare

And I honestly did that by thinking of my own Nightmare, and basically negating everything about him, his expression and posture especially, I looked at my own Bitchmare and thought, “ok now do the complete opposite of that” hchchchcchhc

Like, there are very specific things I keep in mind when drawing Nightmare’s expressions especially, so I went and I did the complete opposite of it, Bitchmare’s expression is always… guarded, so it looks cold and distant, Dadmare’s expression isn’t guarded at all, what’s in his heart is on his face, and that gives a sense of genuinity to it

And what I love about that comic is the fact Dadmare and Bitchmare are both in it, you can in real time, see these differences in expression and posture

[blackbirdsblackberries]

Can you kill yourself already? Yoi suck at writing. Itd be better if you didnt waste your skills on doing this garvage. In fact, im sure you could go into sex workN id be more than happy to fuck you dumb. Lesbian my ass. You clearly need a good fucking to get your head back in order alien. Ive heard illegals would sell their body to stay in america maybe you should eotp wasting your time with writing and focus on finding a smart man to keep you iñ america. Plus you cant spell for shit and your grammar sucks.

The utter hypocrisy! Oh my god!

First off, if you're going to judge how I spell and use grammar maybe you should look over your ask first. But let's break this down, yeah?

No, I won't kill myself. Good question!

I am FAR from perfect at writing, I know, I can think of over five other authors that are better than me. That doesn't mean the hate is justified, people get better through practice.

I am confused about the part where you said "if you didnt waste your skills on doing this garvage" what skills am I wasting? You said I suck at writing which means I don't have the skills for it. You're contradicting yourself.

The whole sentence after that had my jaw on the floor. For context, I am still underage. I also am not interested in that area of work - personally I don't have any problems with it, so long as people are doing so consensually and it's not illegal then make that bank. If you hate me so much then why would you love to do as you said?? You wouldn't fuck someone you hated - especially after you admit you want me to kill myself.

The next couple sentences are a whirlwind. I am not an "alien", no one is actually but thats a whole different topic I don't want to get into. I don't think it is my place to get into it anyway. I don't live in America, surprise surprise, people can exist outside of the United States! Also I do doubt people are full on selling their bodies to stay in America. The tragedy that is going on over there is not capable of being solved in that way (again, I wont get into detail, its not my place nor is it the time currently). You say I should find a smart man as though you are one. If you were actually smart this hate comment would be so much easier to read and comprehend - not to mention it just wouldn't exist to begin with. You would have just blocked me.

This ask here is one I definitely wanted to discuss but there are more:

[kashimos-hajime]

—a man | s.r.

summary: "what we need, sweetheart, is a man."

pairing: suna rintarou x reader

a/n: for context, inarizaki is being placed in nishinomiya for the sake of this fic | part of the undateable series

masterlist

The lunch bell shrieks and the students all around give a grumble as they pour back into the class room. You’re in the midst of putting your lunch box away, but the question Mina, your near and dear friend, poses you has your face akin to a woman who’s got sliced lemons wedged into her cheeks. “No, no, I’m fine not dating anyone right now. Akio just dumped me—” you count on your fingers— “two, or, three? Weeks ago.”

“Ugh, but that was nothing. You don’t even care, so why not come with me?” she pleads, clasping her hands and leaning on your desk. “I promise, it’s not going to be bad. Just one date. A double date. That handsome boy from Kujirami we saw from the spring party asked me out to see a movie in Kobe, and it’ll be so lame if I have to go by myself. I’m sure he has a cute friend!”

“I guess?” Your voice, tinged with doubt, twangs when you wince and you search for an excuse, glancing around the room as casually as you can. The teacher's behind his desk, re-organizing his papers, and you agonize over the minutes he takes. Couldn’t he cut class conversation short, for once? “But I don’t want to transit to Kobe from Awaji on the weekend. It’s so much time, and I have to work. Maybe if it were afterschool?”

“Would Friday work?”

You try not to curse to Mina’s face. “Maybe… but it’s the end of the school week. I’d, y’know, wanna go home. And Thursday is like... we have homework. And stuff.” At your friend’s crestfallen expression, you quickly add, “I wouldn’t want to third-wheel your date anyway. If I’m there, and his friend’s there, we might end up talking to each other rather than our dates.” 

A pout flashes across her face. “If they can't keep us interested, then they’re not good enough for us. Didn't you say on your first date with Inoue-san, he didn't say a single word? And we know how that turned out."

“Well, don’t take a page out of my book. Every time I give a guy a chance, they’re just not…" You don't exactly want to linger on all your failures at the moment. "Well, just give him a chance, and don't look for the bad stuff. You know, sometimes first dates, the nerves get in the way.”

“Is that what you tell yourself, too? 'Cause if you have no luck, I can't imagine what I've got going for me. Ugh, I'm so sick of boys!" Mina shoots to her feet with a new, ferocious light in her stare as she flexes her arm, patting the bicep with a sharp smile. “What we need, sweetheart, is a man.”

“A man,” you snort, laughing. “As if those exist.”

“You never know.” The chair squeaks as Mina finds her seat again. Twisting around, she sends you a wink. “Think about it, won’t you?”

“I will,” you agree. Reaching down into your bag, you feel a shadow fall across your figure, and you crane your head up at the boy standing before you. Suna Rintarou is staring down at you as if you’re the one in his way, but you can't possibly be so, and he's most definitely in the wrong section of the classroom.

“Hey.” 

You only straighten up, withdrawing your English notebook and dusting off your desk quickly. “Hi.” Picking out your favourite pencil, you adjust the layout of your desk, and take a quick sip of water before realizing Suna’s still standing there, tapping on his phone, and you look at him again. “Can I help you?”

He withdraws something from his pocket—a cleanly folded piece of paper—but doesn’t even meet your gaze. A flicker of irritation licks at your stomach. “Osamu wanted to give this to you.”

“What is it?”

“From our volleyball meeting.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“He volunteered you to fill our manager spot since Shiri-san won’t be coming back this year. It’s the form.” 

Taking it, you open your mouth to ask another question but he’s already walking to the back of the class, and you frown, eyes trailing after the boy who sits down and pulls out his phone, already slouched over and half-hidden by the person sitting in front of him. Ridiculous.

With a huff, you face forward again. The paper crinkles as you see your name already written at the top in Osamu’s slanted writing, but the teacher is calling for the class’s attention (of course, now is when he decides that his paper stacks are straight enough), and the idea is pushed to the back of your head with a firm, resounding answer.

No way.

[olderthannetfic]

Does anyone else loathe that line people trot out about "if you post online you're agreeing to rude comments" like that's not...a fact or a law. It's just an opinion. People act like it's this immutable fact and it's not. When I post online I do NOT agree to rude comments. I anticipate them, but I will still hold you goddamn responsible for basic decent courtesy because social media is real life and being mean to people on social media is being mean, period. "When you post online you agree to rude comments" is cope rude people use to avoid feeling bad about being rude.

See, the difference is these people are viewing social media as someone presenting their post before a panel of judges to be criticised. But most people view it as bringing their post to share with other people that have the same hobbies and interests. I hate beige modern houses, but the people that post their beige modern house didn't post it for me. So why in the hell would I waste my energy commenting "I don't like this?" They didn't post it for me! They don't CARE that I don't like it!

Imagine if someone posted about like...gardening, or some innocuous hobby, and people were shitting on gardening in their comments. It might be easier to see in that context why these comments are ridiculous. People insist it's entitled to not want comments criticising you, but it feels patently more ridiculous to me to genuinely believe your dislike of someone's interests or tastes is so, SO valuable that you MUST comment and tell them you don't like it.

Also, "it's not rude to just state my opinion" is bs, it is rude to state your opinion if your opinion is rude. Being needlessly critical of someone's appearance, interests or hobbies is rude. Any criticism that isn't either 1. consented to or 2. in response to bad behaviour is rude. That's like, the definition of being rude, I fear. Imagine if the school bully told someone they were hideous and then when they were told that's rude responded "omg it's not rude to just state my opinion!!!!!"

--

[enden-k]

I'm so sorry, I'm thinking about your kitty saran drawings again but in the context of like.... How Azai and Vika treat him as a human

Like Azai just sitting there holding Saran still, he's completely unable to get away, he's fighting back and still Azai just clings to him desperately

But Vika looking at Saran and just. Letting him be. Even though Saran is practically crawling into him, Vika's not even holding him really? Acknowledging his presence and appreciating the warmth but Vika would never keep Saran in one place against his will

They're all so... Aughh I love them youn and you're so good at characterizing them /gen

yes!! also like one of u said so in the tags (love love love when yall are so perceptive heheh)

its just a silly kitty doodle but rlly does tell how azai and vika treat(ed) saran/their way of love: azai wanting to control him, to have him and vika respecting saran and not forcing himself on him in any way

also honestly, how can a man do such sus things when he looks at the love of his life like this tbh. hes the type who would die for him

thanks for the message <3

[cripplecharacters]

Hello! Do you have any advice on how to handle an inherently fictional facial difference (that was caused by a fictional reason and while may have some partial crossover/parallels with elements of real world FDs, ultimately is a fictional one and is specific to the world/lore) in a way that would not come off as harmful to real facial differences? I also have some characters with actual real life FDs in the story, but maybe there's something else I should consider?

Also, what is your opinion on fictional disabilities in general? Not when the story just has a vague disability that can't be strongly connected to anything specific from real life, but when author specifically develops a fictional condition/disability/chronic disease etc in context of/based on elements of their fictional world?

Hello!

A fictional facial difference has basically the same potential pitfalls as any other fictional disability. You can take a look at this post where we talked about what not to do, TLDR: make sure it's actually a fictional disability and not just one you haven't heard of yet and be mindful of what real conditions it could be reminiscent of (and avoid stereotypes accordingly).

It's good that you also have characters with actually existing disabilities, it honestly annoys me to no end when people boast about their "disability rep" while all they have is 20 different "magic character can't do magic" characters. So this is definitely a big plus.

The only thing you need to keep in mind is to not split the two (character with fictional FD vs characters with IRL FD) into separate categories, consciously or not. Don't treat the one with a made-up FD as better or as inherently prettier than "those other people". Ideally they're all just treated the same in the story since that's the only option that makes logical sense.

Also, it was mentioned already in the post I linked, but unless you have some very specific scenario you purposefully want to do and actually comment on, avoid making the cause of her FD either 1) result of her parents doing Evil Drugs or black magic or whatever or 2), contagious. Very little FDs have those origins, but many are stereotyped or downright accused of being such.

Other than that, think of the same stuff as you would with IRL facial differences existing in a story. How does society treat them? What is the acceptance level? Are the majority of people knowledgeable (a person can know exactly nothing about being disabled and still be kind and accepting; it's not exclusive)? Are FDs more common because medicine is less advanced?

For the last question; it depends. If it has symptoms that real people have, there are gonna be real people who will relate to it (if done well) and real people who might be offended by how it's portrayed (if done badly).

Let's say your setting has a magic toxic flower that causes lower limb paralysis and/or weakness after someone steps on it - that's fictional, but there are many real world disabilities that share similar symptoms, even if the cause is obviously very different. If this was the fictional disability, the characters who have it would probably share the same community as characters with SCI, neuropathy, MS, etc.; it's based in fantasy but it's easy to imagine that it could be real.

In this context you should be researching the symptoms - leg paralysis and weakness - and potential treatments - physical therapy, learning how to walk with orthoses/crutches, painkillers, etc. Real readers with real symptoms will be able to relate to this kind of fantasy disability.

But let's say the fictional disability mainly presents as chronic pain and muscle spasms caused by the person not using magic enough. This on the other hand, doesn't work as a (respectful) fantasy disability. The main "accusation" people with chronic pain get is that we are lazy and if we just did more of [usually exercise] we would be cured - it doesn't work like that, and it would be frankly offensive to make a whole illness where the chronic pain is caused by someone not waving their wand enough or whatever. No one will be relating to this because it's not based on how stuff works, it's based on a stereotype. "It's fantasy" isn't a get out of jail free card, you still have to be conscious of what you are implying.

As long as you do research and keep in mind which real things your fantasy disabilities resemble (e.g. Hansen's disease and ALS will have very different stereotypes attached to them) so you can avoid making a connection you don't want to make.

Hope this helps,

mod Sasza

[ladycremecaramel]

So this was my ask from a long time ago, and I had thoughts of mgit (modern girl in thedas) story for this, but it never came to fruition. What I did do, though, was write a drabble from the Inquistor's POV. I thought it was long gone, but I stumbled upon it through my Google docs. After reading it, I thought I would post it here.

For context, the woman's name is Nora, and she is married and has a kid. There was an accident of some sort where the husband and child didn't survive, but she did and wound up in Thedas with the mark on her hand. She didn't want anything to do with the Inquisition as her spouse and child were her whole world and was grieving. She didn't care if she lived or died, but her moral compass of wanting to help those in need prevented her from outright killing herself.

Over time, the grief becomes...less in a way. After the fall of Haven and becoming the Inquisitor, her depression ramps up again but also has conflicting feelings about Cullen.

Then she becomes kidnapped red templars and...I forgot what they called the evil mages that worked for Corypheus were called. The ones that went crazy or were they called blood mages? Anyway, their plan was to 'kill' the Inquisitor and then use necromancy on her dead body to have control of the mark. Obviously, that doesn't happen cuz the Inquisition comes to the rescue juuuust in time.

So here it is. Below this is a TW of depression, blood, thoughts of suicide, and mentions of rape

Whack.

She yelped in pain as he punched the side of her face again. Another swollen bruise to add the collection on her body and face. She tried to wrench her wrists free of her binds, but the rope held tight was starting to cut into her skin. “Why am I fighting this? Don’t I want to die?” She thought to herself as her body struggled against her captors. 

She wasn’t sure, but her thoughts were stilled when a rough hand grabbed her by the throat. The red templar forced her to look up at him as he tightened his grip. Staring into the glowing crimson eyes, he snarled. “Should I let them rape you, mage? If you keep fighting, I won’t let you have any dignity left.” 

Nora froze upon hearing those words. To be raped and let whatever was to be become of her? His grip was tightening as she went limp with fear. If she were to die anyway, she wanted to at least have the choice to stay intact. The man stilled his tightening grip and slowly loosened his hold to see if she would struggle again. She didn’t move. Taking as a sign of surrender, he ordered the other men to bind her legs quickly. 

Everything moved quickly in a blur for her after that as she was carried to the open wooden box and placed inside. Her eyes began to sting with tears while her captors placed the lid on top and hammered it down with nails. She couldn’t see anything, but she could hear their voices. 

Soon she heard what sounded like chanting. It sounded low and in another language. What was going on out there? Did it matter? She watched interior of the box glow at the seams with a dark purple energy. It glowed brighter and brighter what felt like the longest time before it faded away, plunging her back into darkness. 

The next thing she knew was that box was being lifted and then lowered back down. She rocked back and forth with the casket, but it soon lurched with a soft thump. Nora fidgeted around with her hands tied in front of her until she heard the sound dirt being poured on top of the box she was in. Her eyes grew wide, and she sobbed. “This is it. This is how I die.” She thought as she tried to calm herself and accept her fate as she was being buried alive. 

“It shouldn’t be painful. I’ll fall unconscious as I lose oxygen. I’ll get to see my boys again soon. Just like I always wanted. I would have already offed myself if I didn’t have this fucking curse on my hand. They wanted their world saved though. My stupid guilty, noble do-the-right-thing just HAD to win out…” 

She thought like this as the sound of the dirt grew fainter. She assumed it was because her grave was almost filled up. She wondered how much time she actually had. It could be a few minutes to possibly a few hours or so she was told by Google. Looks like she was going to test that theory. 

Nora let her mind sift through all her memories. From her childhood to her adolescent days to adulthood. Then it went to more recent memories of losing her husband and child in a flash of green and then winding up in Thedas. Going through the story of the game or most of it anyway. She thought about the companions she met and actually becoming friends with them. She even thought about him. She wasn’t sure how she felt about him still but he definitely made her heart race. 

She wasn’t sure how much time has passed but the sound of the dirt stopped and she heard muffled shouts and what sounded like metal clashing. She strained her ears as best as she could. She couldn’t tell how deep she was buried but it didn’t sound like she was buried too deep or she wouldn’t have likely heard anything. 

She was starting to feel tired. When she heard a muffled angry voice that sounded like...

“Cassandra?”

They came all this way for me?

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

Aaaaannnnd end. That's it. Then my ask picks up from there.

You don't have to do this one. DAi: LI's only. After locating the Inky's they find that their leader is nowhere in sight. After some fruitless interrogating, they hear a faint THUMP THUMP THUMP and muffled screaming. They search for the source and find a half filled grave and the sound of their leader under the dirt. Their reaction: Discovering their Inky was buried alive.

Cassandra: Her heart drops, and the panic doesn’t even have time to settle before she is loudly barking orders and trying to steady her breathing. The second she gets the Inquisitor out of his shallow grave; she grabs him in a big hug and refuses to let go. The seeker is far from a merciful person, any may Andraste protect whoever dared do this to the person she loves. For a second she looks up at the man she loves, dirty and bruised with a mixture of panic and fear in his eyes. She doesn’t even want to think about what would’ve happened if they hadn’t gotten there sooner. 

Solas: Bring along the fury of a wolf and you will end up being ripped apart by the pack, this is very much apparent with Solas. The apostate is quick on his feet, helping his vhenan out of the grave and staring at the people responsible whom they just questioned; he has murder in his gaze. The only thing stopping him from acting then and there is the soft touch from his lover, her shaking body quickly moving closer to him for comfort. He would never forgive the people who did this and the ones who survived his visit later that night were the unlucky ones.

Dorian: At first he is rather unsettling, extremely calm and soft-spoken, only to lash out when someone makes a rather poor comment as the Inquisitor is helped out of his grave. Dorian feels utterly helpless and furious when he sees his Amatus like that, the man has bruises around his wrists showing he was tied; a busted lip and a tired gaze. he knows that if they had been slower the man he loved would’ve been underneath them all along but lacking the consciousness to ever speak up about where he was. One wrong clue or details lost could’ve led to being one minute too late. And that terrifies him.

Sera: May whatever god these people look up to be a just and forgiving one; because Sera sure as hell isn’t. As soon as Inky is out of that grave, an arrow is lodged into the leg of the nearest guilty person; and she has to be held back from jumping the man. She has no mercy for these people, and absolutely no pity for them as their screams reach her ears. Sera is scarily silent as she calms down, quickly finding her girlfriend and latching onto her- a shaky breath escaping her as she promises that she won’t ever let this happen again.

Blackwall: Honestly; it would surprise noone if Thom admitted to having done this himself, seeing as how calm he was when he was met with the issue itself; quick and steady hands knowing what to do right away. He doesn’t speak much when the Inquisitor stumbles out of the grave, clinging onto him and gasping for air and shaking. The tears in her eyes is enough to send his very being into a angry rampage; but he simply stays silent. Comforting his lover as he leads her away from the site, the others can deal with the vermin.

Iron Bull: May whoever did this rest in peace, because honestly they messed up the second they dared to mess with anyone who had contacts within the chargers. Bull is extremely gentle and careful with his lover; the poor thing shaking and it breaks his heart the second he sees the bruises on their face. Being buried alive is not fun, he would know. He is more aware than anyone else how lucky they were; because you loose oxygen fast in a casket. He lets out a shaky breath before kissing their face, muttering an apology for taking so long.

Josephine: When she had heard the word of what happened, she couldn’t help but close herself inside the office and just cry. Leliana had made sure she got time to let out all the worry and stress as she awaited for her lover to return. When they did? They were met by Josephine, puffy eyes and a lip that she had clearly chewed on more than enough to draw blood. And she only started crying again when she saw their bruised face, just about starting to heal from traveling back. She hated that she had to let them go on these trips; but she knew stopping them would only make things worse. With a tired sigh she grabs their hand, they needed a few hours. Just to be.

Cullen: He was the one leading the rescue operation, and he thought he had the ability to act cool. But when the Inquisitor is helped up from the casket and is finally able to see in the much brighter area; she sees him acting extremely out of character. The man on the ground is bleeding heavily from his face as Cassandra pulls the commander away from him. Cullen had been scared, he had felt so lonely when he found out that his rage blinded him and for a split second he wanted nothing else but to kill the person responsible. He feels his anger melt when the hand of his loved one is carefully placed on his cheek, as she whispers for him to calm down. She is bruised, tired and was probably on her last breaths. He would never forgive himself for allowing this to happen to begin with, but may the maker have mercy on the people responsible. They would face the wrath of Cullen Rutherford.

[artsninspo]

COUNTERFEIT - three

⇽ part two

➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

🍒 authors note: the story is starting to heat up and give you a sneak peak of whats to come.

🍒 pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Faith (Original Character) All my characters are black women.

🍒 word count: ~1.8K

🍒 summary: A day party, unexpected guest, damsel in distress, a lot of stress. Confrontation, unexpected chivalry, back stories & unfavourable truths. This one's messy 🌪️ .

🍒 three - unnatural habitats

I try my best for courage as the city scenes change from outside my window. I can feel Char’s eyes on me. Our argument was conveniently well timed. Now, if I don't show up now to this PR activation of her’s i’ll be toast. The worst sister in the world, problem child extraordinaire. It’s not that I don't want to support Char, it's that Jasonwas invited. In order to secure the necessary funding to make things go off without a hitch she enlisted him knowing his firm's coffers are deep. Knowing Jason, he will be in attendance. It’s the root of my reluctance to attend, not some petty spat and a childish attempt to get even. Char and I didn't speak until last night when she placed the dress she wanted me to wear today on my bed. A pinterest board of context for how I needed to look followed via text along with a detailed itinerary. I reacted to the messages with thumbs up and sat in the make-up artists and hair stylists chairs when they arrived smiling, laughing and talking with them - conceding and playing the role everyone wished to be my permanent disposition.

“Where were you last night?” Char asks, drawing me from my thoughts.

I take a breath before looking over at her, “Out” 

Char rolls her eyes at me before smoothing out her dress - it’s rare vintage and gorgeous. “Out where?” she probes.

“Drinking” I respond being short with her and she sighs.

“Whatever, screw your life up. The rest of us are responsible enough to be your backup plans” she snaps but i’m not in the mood for a back and forth.

“I can act the fool during your event if that's what you want?” I threaten her knowing the social game of chess well. Char glares at me in response. She knows she doesn't have to beg me not to. She knows I'd never knowingly light a match to anything she loves.

“I don't want that - I want the best for you Faith and you're just. I don't know what you're doing!” she shouts.

“I’m 24 and you're 25 Char, what the hell! We’ve got our entire lives ahead of us.”

“How many weddings have we been to the past few summers? How many housewarmings and baby showers?” Char snaps like any one of these guys we grew up with is worth getting to claim her in any way.

“That’s where the party dies Char. How many of our friends are the same?” I ask her.

“Just because you resent Merrick-” Char starts.

“It’s not about Merrick” I snapped, tired of that narrative. “None of this shit is real Char, I don't mind playing pretend but the charade has to end at some point! If mom didn’t have Merrick we could still live the way we do. We have an uncle you know, our fathers brother.”

“Drug money” she whispers well indoctrinated. Char looks at me appalled by my suggestion.

“Because corporations are not just as exploitative and damaging to communities, and the environment?” I ask and she looks at me like I'm a mongrel. Daddy would roll in his grave. That’s the fundamental difference - our father was never self righteous. He never made his choice of employment out to be the right thing - it was just a means to take care of his family. Char was his princess and I was his shadow. 

“Our father killed people and destroyed families with the poison he pumped into the community. Merrick is nothing like that” She snaps as the car comes to a halt. I exit the car and skip photo opps heading straight into the venue I’ve had a hand in decorating - I’m not in the mood to schmooze or network. I head to the bar and get my first round as the music gets good. I throw a few shots back heading over to mingle and maintain my reputation as the ‘fun’ sister. Girls twerk around me but I spare my sisters the embarrassment of my participation. I’m on a cool down when I see Jason watching me with longing. I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself this much in his company. I want to run but I can’t because we’ve made eye contact. He looks like he’s been going through it and I can't imagine how much it hurts him to see me looking unaffected by our end.

“Hey” he shouts over the music, having cleared the distance between us.

“Hey” I responded.

“You look beautiful” He smiles with a hand on my hip. It should be familiar and refreshing but it just isn't. He pulls me in coming in for a kiss but I turn my head and step out of his hold before looking at him again.

“Thanks” I mutter, not nearly drunk enough to forget we're over.

“Babe, can we talk?” He asks, lips brushing against my ear.

“We spoke already,” I remind him.

“You haven’t been taking my calls,” he says.

“Because Jason I have nothing more to say!” I say louder my impatience growing.

“Then listen to me, I love you” he says and for a moment the declaration moves me. But then something about him reminds me of Rick and it all goes away.

“Then let me go,” I plead. Jason searches my eyes before anger flashes in his. He pulls me to him like this is a bid for attention, a game of cat and mouse - a way to spice up our relationship and not a breakup.

“You want more attention, I get it. I’m here. I'll work less hours and make more time for us Faith. I love you - stop being like this” he says confirming my suspicions. It's a testament to how well I’ve gotten to know him and how little he’s been paying attention. The whole thing makes me upset and I pull away but he grabs my arms.

“Hey!” A deep voice says in warning. I relax, relieved security is here but I turn to see D’s cousin Rio. His expression is displeased as he sizes Jason up. Jason releases my arms - caught in his below the board behaviour. He straightens and my head spins. Rio’s the last person I expected here or defending me. He gives me a reassured nod before glaring at Jason like Jason has lost his everloving mind. Jason goes to grab me again before Rio steps between us.

“She’s my girl, move” Jason snaps.

“Doesn’t look like it” Rio responds unmoved.

“Why don’t you go and mind your business?” Jason snaps.

“Faith, is this your boyfriend?” Rio asks, casting a look over his shoulder at me, all the while still using his body as a shield.

“I know everyone she knows and I don’t know you” Jason snaps.

“You can do better than this, ma” Rio taunts with a smile that’s only purpose is to provoke Jason.

“Ma?! Faith, who the hell is this guy?’ Jason snaps ready to make a scene.

“Jason, call me when you aren’t drunk” I shout, needing to diffuse the situation for Char’s sake.

“Faith, don’t walk away from me” he shouts, stepping around Rio to grab at me again and it happens so fast I’m shocked. Jason is grabbed by security and his wallet is plucked from his pocket. Another guard snaps a picture of his license.

“Don’t worry, he won’t be allowed back” the guard says. I force a mortified nod as security makes quick work of throwing Jason out discreetly. A few eyes are on us, Char among them.

Fuck, I curse to myself.

“Thanks” I mumble and Rio turns to face me.

“Let me guess, finance?” He says.

My head is still spinning. “What?”

“He works in finance so he thinks people can be bought? And has shit to lose that's why he aint swing on me for talking to his ‘girl’” Rio says with a knowing, taunting light in his eyes. It kills all of the chivalry of his actions.

“Yes, finance” I admit and he looks me over again like I can do better. 

“Well D would’ve wanted me to look out,” he shrugs cooly.

“Thanks” I respond, feeling deflated.

“I’ll tell the staff you're a friend of the family, you need anything let us know” he comments glancing around the venue.

“Appreciate it” I mutter seeing Char’s wide eyes behind him as she makes her way over.

“No worries. But don’t ever come to the bar dressed like that you hear?” He winks walking away.

“Who was that? He’s hot!” Char asks as Rio disappears. 

“D’s cousin” I answer honestly.

“How do you know him? I don’t remember this cousin.” she asks.

“He was around when I saw D” I omit the full truth and she looks in his direction some more.

“He’s hot” she repeats and I smile.

“He’s not your type”

“What?” she asks.

“I'm pretty sure he doesn’t fit your criteria” I tell her.

“What does he do?” She asks.

“He looks like he does whatever he wants.” I tell her heading back to the bar. The bartender hands me a cherry margarita before I can order.

“From the boss” he smiles and I do too. My sister watches me with a hundred questions when I don’t pay and I know it’ll be a long interrogation. I wonder if Rio’s actions are genuine kindness or flirting - either way the man is attentive and clearly dangerous. I head home shortly after the incident, skipping out on the after parties. When I wake up I see a slew of emails from Jason and roll my eyes. I see a message from char saying she’s doing hot yoga and relax until my phone rings. I check the caller ID with one eye open and see Diego’s name. Relief washes over me and I answer.

“Hello”

“Char called”  Diego says on the other end of the video call.

“Yeah?” I ask and he nods.

“Asking if you were involved with my cousin” Diego says and I roll my eyes.

“Jason was sloshed and getting aggressive instead of my sister intervening your cousin did.” I explain.

“I know he told me, then asked me if guys like Jason are your type” Diego says with a knowing expression.

“We both know he isn’t” I admit. “How's the play off season going at the bar?” I ask.

“Good. You low on money?” he asks.

“No, I've been living off the tips and saving my salary. It’s nice.” I admit.

“Rio’s out of town next weekend so if you want to work let me know” he offers.

“I’m in” I tell him.

“Good”

“Did Char tell you she thinks Rio is hot?” I ask and his eyes bug out.

“Rio isn’t her type, he has a son and two girlfriends” D says, surprising even me.

“Two” I exclaim shocked and D nods. “And he’d pretend Char’s the only one,” I add, shaking my head.

“Good at it too,” D scoffs, making me laugh.

“Then he’s exactly her type, she still believes in playing pretend” I tell Jason who swallows.

“Both of you need to stay away from him.” D says before changing the subject to something lighter.

group project - COUNTERFEIT (RIO)

authors note: checking in with readers. the first chapter did well but the second not so much. idk if you all are busy or tired with the state of the world, tired of rio or adjusting to the change in POV. Whatever the case I'm willing to pause updating this story for now and revisit updating it later.

This story is a slower burn than Forgiveless but I promise all the mess and spice you love and more is on the horizon.

Comment, Like & Reblog if you want more of this story.

click here to ✮ join taglist ✮ and be notified when new updates drop.

@meadows5 @wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality @kokobells @ffenthusiastt @sowhatariyana @1xtral1983 @theegoddessofmelanin @fictionalreads @roxytheimmortal @fairytale07 @rampsen @rosey1981 @lauraaan182 @lynaye1993 @g1g1l @writingsbytee @different-fandomz @rose-bliss @loveschrisbrown20 @cherrybeedotcom @ariiaellbtheedonn @motheroffae @prettylilteine @thabiddie23 @next-bex-bet @magik22 @slvt4her @blckblossom @gopaperless @naughtynolly-blog @daddiespamm

[lostintransist]

[emerges from the dead]

ghoap angst? Ghost holds a lot of misplaced anger after mwiii - after Soap’s death.

He partially blames Price for ordering Johnny to step down when he had the shot. Hell, he even blames himself somehow for assuming his captain placed the same amount of confidence in Johnny than he did him.

If Price had just let him pull the fucking trigger, maybe he would still be here, alive, with him - in his arms.

But he’s not and they feel most empty. Simon tries to fill the gap with bourbon or throwing himself in whatever op he could get his hands on, even the riskier ones.

A part of him wishes it’d been him that day, muttering ‘why is it always the good ones’ to himself where no one can hear him spiral.

Simon is not suicidal in the way that most people think but he doesn’t see himself resisting the current if things were to go south on a mission.

Demi! 😘 remember you asked for this. @cafekitsune thanks for the dividers!

CW: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT Canon Johnny death, suicidal ideation (If you wonder about letting go and something bad ending it all for you or a car accident just taking you out? that does count as ideation I was shook when my therapist pointed out that I was suicidal as a teen because of that), canon style violance, Simon dies in the end.

AO3 | Masterlist

Minors beware, no sexual context but emotional violence abounds.

Trains screeched by on the metal tracks, brakes fighting for friction. They had made it down to the platform; now Johnny and his captain would need to disable the bomb before it took out the city above it.

“Red wire, got it.”

His captain’s gaze flicked. That was the only warning he got. That platform beneath the city would become his tomb. Johnny stood, hand already moving for his gun at Makarov’s appearance. He wasn’t fast enough.

Johnny watched, the flash of the muzzle pulling his eyes to the light. His soul screamed to look for Ghost, Simon, before his synapses could pass the message hand over hand that his time had come. No part of him wanted his last memory to be of anything but the man he loved so desperately and had never found the nerve to tell.

“Soap!” Captain Price called him, voice rough.

No part of him remembered the past or yearned for the future. The smell of the dank dust permeated his nose, throat. He wondered if they couldn’t get his body out, would the archaeologists of millennia to come be able to pinpoint his last breath based on the atoms in his lungs?

Eyes flicking open he rose, pulling his blade from its sheath on his thigh. Makarov stood over his captain, saying something the ringing in Johnny’s ears prevented him from hearing. Makarov took Johnny’s blade through the shoulder. The trauma from the previous shot slowed him. He was too slow. God dammit why was he always too slow? Makarov got him in an armbar, planted a boot in Price’s face, and fired his gun again.

Training from his youth, the chapel humming with the vibration of the organ, told him to call on a god he didn’t believe in. Maybe his mother would greet him at the gates before the angels escorted him to hell for his disbelief. No. It would pain her to see him dragged away from her peace.

The bullet whistled as it reached him, breaking the skin. It burned…until it didn’t.

There is a different sound to dead weight falling.

Babies losing balance and thumping into the floor had a certain lightness, expectant reverb in it. A drunk bumping into a wall as they stumbled home from the bar? The energy seemed to transfer back from the brick to propel them forward. But dead weight, life disconnected from flesh? It hits the ears like stone on stone, harsh and painful. Another train screeched by.

Johnny stood, chest heaving. With a slow twist, he saw his body, a discarded shell strewn on the unforgiving ground. He knew two things then; he was dead and there was an afterlife.

“Boy!”

His shoulders whipped him around to look at an older man he had never seen before. With thick tight curls and a hint of gray above the temples and glasses stood near Gaz who knelt. The shade of his brown skin was lost among the darkness but his firm glare could be seen clearly.

“Aye?” Johnny replied, hesitant and scared.

Funny how he didn’t feel scared before his body hit the ground without him.

“You know how to stop this thing?” The older man pointed down at the bomb, time ticking away relentlessly.

“Aye,” he said once more.

“Then get’cha ass over here and help him! I know less than jack about bombs.”

Moving is easier than it had been in life, almost as if gravity had less hold on him as a memory.

Johnny knelt next to his best friend, the abject horror staining Gaz’s face leaving trace marks on Johnny anywhere his eyes touched.

“What do I do?” he asked, glancing up at the man who still hovered.

“Talk to him, slap his hands if he tries to touch the wrong wire. Lord knows despite my efforts he sometimes only responds to a smack,” the last line being muttered told Johnny it was more self-commentary than a command for him. “Should have never let him leave being a cop, even if he did it for me.”

Johnny rested his head on Gaz’s shoulder. Later he would sit with the memory, puzzled how he didn’t sink right through his best friend.

“You got this Kyle. We’ve gone over this enough times in training and a way to win bets, you know what to do.” Johnny spoke to him, voice never ceasing switching from English to Gaelic and back. When he ran out of words for encouragement he began to hum, nursery songs from his mother, his sisters, and his gran all drifting back in snippets and memories. Every so often when he glanced up from Gaz’s shoulder he would see a woman, soft smile with crinkles around her eyes speaking softly in Price’s ear.

The seconds stretched until finally, finally, the device had been deactivated safely. Johnny lifted his head from Gaz’s shoulder. The older man stood watch, eyes settled back near where Johnny’s body lay.

Following the old man’s gaze he found Simon. Johnny stared at the man who weakly shook the empty husk. Simon knelt; knees one up one down as if he were proposing to a corpse. Johnny stood, compelled to his would-be lover by the ache in his chest.

The distance between them disappeared and Johnny lowered himself down next to one of Simon’s thick thighs. He wept. The darker spots flooding the mask told the story.

Johnny. Johnny, wake up. Johnny, you can’t stay there we need to go.

Simon’s mouth hadn’t moved but still, Johnny could hear the weak whimpering of a broken man. Rubbing his thumb across the eye black below Simon’s eyes did nothing to disturb the darkness or the tears. Johnny felt better for it anyway.

“He’s yours to care for now.” The old man stood closer now.

“What do you mean?” Johnny didn’t move his gaze.

“His mum left when you arrived, said to take care of him. You’ve been assigned to him. Tough task for these folks. But you know that since you were one till a few minutes ago as you were one.” The older man shambled over.

“What does that make me then, his guardian angel?” Johnny shot a disbelieving look up as the old-timer stopped next to him.

“If you like,” he inclined his head. “Name’s Cedric. Your gran said to be good. You prefer Soap, John, or Johnny?”

The brown of Simon’s eyes were the deepest pool of sadness Johnny had ever seen. That despondence is what chose his answer.

The three of them who had taken such care to get his body out of the underground had brought him home. The plot had been full, no room for even a small urn. They planned to set his ashes free into the sunset instead. Seemed a fitting end for someone who died meters below the earth.

“He was the best of us.” Price started. He, Ghost, and Gaz had stared at the horizon for nearing on twenty minutes.

Corrine snorted, “You weren’t the best. No one is in this field.”

Johnny whacked her with the back of his fingers. He had met Corrine after the men had made it to safety, she had been John Price’s little sister before she died in childhood. She stuck around, keeping her big brother from harm.

“Are funerals always this hokey from this side?” Johnny pulled his top lip between his teeth as he watched. Simon didn’t say a word, grief screaming in silence. He lifted the urn from the backpack at his feet, Gaz and Price each setting a hand on it.

“Always,” Cedric retorted.

Johnny stood between them, wind rushing off the water rustling his hair but not nipping him with its chill, as they watched what was as close to a funeral as he would get.

“Who dares wins,” Price pushed out a hard breath, “Sleep easy soldier.”

“See you down range brother,” Gaz offered his piece. “We’ll take it from here.”

“Rest in peace, Johnny.” Simon’s words continued on for Johnny’s knowing only as he upended the ashes into the wind. With enough luck, I’ll see you soon.

Johnny’s eyes didn’t leave Simon’s back as he voiced his next question. The lump in his throat had him coughing before he could speak.

“Do you ever get used to their thoughts seeping into your brain?”

“Not really,” Corrine shrugged, the motion in his side vision.

Cedric guffawed, “Wait till he runs into life-threatening trouble while trying to get laid, those are the worst.”

Corrine’s face lights up as she turns to Cedric, “Did I ever tell you about the time John nearly got caught as a teen?”

“The hell was he doing that nearly got him killed for getting it wet as a teen?” Cedric fired off, face full of frustrated confusion.

“Jesus Ghost, your guardian angel must be working overtime to get you out of those hairy situations time and again with only scratches,” Farah patted him on the shoulder as she passed him walking down the ramp of the plane.

I wish they wouldn’t.

The thought lifted off Simon and into Johnny’s ears like a shimmer of heat rising from the blacktop.

“Fooker if you don’t shape up soon, I’ll keel ye meself.”

“No one can understand your angry accent, Johnny,” Corrine chided him.

“He doesn’t need to understand to start acting right,” Johnny punched Simon’s head, angrier still when his fist passed through with nary a ruffle of fabric.

It had been a nasty surprise when Johnny found he could only touch the living in love and care. He cared about Simon, would beg for reincarnation for the chance to love him again. The bastard couldn’t even pretend that he wasn’t suicidal. Na, Simon didn’t call it that. Hoping that a bullet would shift by degrees and end his constant pain was still ideation—calling into the void and pleading for a response.

This was the sixth mission he had taken since Johnny left his body where he hadn’t tried to keep himself safe. Fucker threw himself into the line of fire and walked away only because Johnny would fistfight the powers of the universe at large if it meant keeping Simon breathing.

Cedric had stayed back with Gaz wherever he would be right now. Corrine found Johnny glaring at ‘his Simon’ as she called him when John had come to check on his lieutenant. She rested a hand on Johnny’s shoulder, touch familiar. They watched as Simon snapped at John, stepping back from John’s attempt at comfort and guidance.

“He’ll get better soon,” she soothed at him with her words.

“And what if he doesn’t Corrine? What am I supposed to do then? He is killing himself!” Johnny flung a hand out to the man who limped into the hanger, waving off concern from every person he passed. “He won’t go to medical to get that wound in his leg checked out. What am I supposed to do the next time he acts like a…a..”

Instead of searching for a word, Johnny shouted his frustrations into the sky. He had to watch Simon devolve, each day taking a piece more of his love and casting it into the fire of grief. He fell to his knees, the gravel he landed on biting at him despite the incorporeal body.

“I would have given him my beating heart Corrine. I would have done anything for him, but he can’t find the will to keep living for me.”

His whisper escaped, broken and raw in the face of seeing Simon again too soon. Too damn soon.

“When I died John tried to follow.” The even tone belies the words.

“What happened?” Johnny’s eyes stare at the ground while he listens to her story.

“We had been playing at the creek. We had been told not to,” she chuckled lightly, “But what six-year-old wants to miss the waters being close enough to touch without getting dirty? The bank couldn’t support my weight and I ended up in fast-moving water. I wasn’t a strong enough swimmer to get out. John went in after me, our dad saved him but my body made it to the next town before it was found.”

Johnny looked up at her, the wrinkles on her face and the womanly body she moved in did not match her death. He looked exactly like he did when Makarov’s bullet had ended him.

“Someone came and gave me a choice, to stay with my big brother and grow as he did or move on to paradise.” She glanced to the side as if called.

Turning to look with her Johnny found Price, a hand on Ghost’s shoulder firmly leading him away from the barracks and to medical.

“What about when he tried to follow?” Johnny’s voice escaped small, and ringed with tears.

Cedric stared at Simon, his nose scrunching the same way Gaz’s would.

“Tough bastard that one. He is so strong-willed that he won’t accept any of your gentle nudging. Have you hit him yet?”

Johnny stared at Simon, sucking back his fourth bourbon at the bar.

“Too mad every time I try, nothing sticks,” John admitted, love and rage twining like vines in his chest, constricting.

“Grab him when he’s asleep but not drunk. He’ll take the message as a dream but it’s better than letting him kill himself without trying everything you can,” Cedric patted Johnny on the shoulder before drifting across the bar to chat with another guardian angel. Seems everyone had one and while not everyone would be assigned to be one everyone who accepted the role had a strong tie to the living, and a desire to keep them safe.

Johnny had never experienced impotence like that of keeping the love of his life from trying to follow him into the grave.

Time moved differently being dead. It moved strangely in dreams though. Johnny knelt at Simon’s head as he lay in the bed, fingers interlaced and ankles crossed. A shirt that had to have lost all scent of Johnny covered the pillow in lieu of a case.

Letting his fingertips explore like he never had a chance in life Johnny memorized the scars that added to the story of his love. Johnny would walk through hell, to the edges of the universe and back, further even if that would take the weight of pain from Simon’s shoulders. He already resembled Atlas, the sky teetering across his broad shoulders. Laying a gentle kiss to Simon’s forehead Johnny slid into his dreams.

“Why is it always the good ones?” Simon asked to the nothing that surrounded him.

“Funny you assume I was good enough to save,” Johnny remarks as he steps next to Simon.

No mask prevents Johnny from seeing every twitch of emotion across Simon’s face.

“You were. Always.”

Walking with Simon, hands tucked together, eons passed.

A gentle tug, a chirp of a morning bird informed Johnny his time here neared an end.

“Simon,” he stopped, using the hand in his to pull the other man to a stop. “You need to live. Giving in to grief? If you die Si, who will save the world?”

“There isn’t a world worth saving without you in it.”

Ghosts must feel pain more acutely without bodies. Ten words and Simon had cracked his rib cage open and poured arctic waters over his heart.

Pulling his hand free from Simon’s Johnny took his face in both hands, pressing their lips together in a way not even his vicious masturbation fantasies could conjure up. Whispers of touch, as if he were kissing moonlight, Johnny infused each atom that passed his with love.

“Live a long life for me, Simon. Keep me waiting until white has stolen all the color from your hair. Let me take your hand in the old folks’ home and walk you to peace,” Johnny laid the words like flowers over a casket, drawing focus away from the dead below it.

Johnny thought Simon had finally found a ledge to cling to, something to grow against as he reached for the sun again.

Fucker always had to prove him wrong.

Simon stopped being so overtly careless with his life on missions. He even began talking to Price again, letting the older man draw him into laughing once or twice.

Death found Simon unprepared, his own knife slid between his ribs high in the mountains closer to the moon than the sea. Johnny took the blade in the heart with him, trying despite the lack of flesh, to stop the end from arriving.

The snow stole away Simon’s gasps.

“You were supposed to live!” Johnny reached down and grabbed Simon by the back of his shirt, hauling him out of his body before throwing him back to the trees that lined the path. “How could you not check that he was dead?!”

He didn’t care that he was shouting. He kept going.

“I needed you to live Simon! If you lived then my death wasn’t the reason you got careless.” Johnny swung on him.

Simon didn’t try and stop it, move, block, nothing. The wide hook caught him in the chin, sending him tumbling into the undisturbed snow. He held a hand to his jaw, staring at Johnny.

The love-twinned rage shook in Johnny’s chest. He sunk his boot into Simon’s chest until his legs shook and he fell. Knees bracketing Simon’s waist the tears started.

“Why Simon? Why?”

The raw, gasping wound of love painted the scene between them. Johnny couldn’t see past the tears and the heaving sobs that racked him.

“I missed you, Johnny,” Simon’s voice, tender and raw, preceded the hand that reached.

Fingertips brushing against the permanent stubble on Johnny’s cheek sent him crashing down. The dead men wept, for each other, themselves, and everyone they left behind.

If the dead find peace, it is not while the living roam.

[maxdibert]

It’s like when people say ‘oh but we only see two interactions between James and Severus, we don’t know if Snape was cursing him in the corridors the rest of the time’ and I just goggle because…it’s a book! This is how books work! They don’t exist outside of the interactions that are written, and we get all the context we need to extrapolate their dynamic from that. The characters aren’t wandering around off the page acting entirely differently to how they do on that page. They act like these are real people with real 24/7 lives and JKR just happened to forget to tell us those extra details lmao

They don’t realize that if we don’t know it, it’s because it didn’t happen—because if it had happened or been relevant, Rowling would have told us. That’s how plots work, that’s how narrative functions. The author discards information that doesn’t contribute to the story or is irrelevant. If we were supposed to interpret James’s actions as some kind of act of justice, vengeance, or payment for Severus’s actions, then it would have been shown to us.

But no, Rowling doesn’t do that. Rowling makes it abundantly clear that James was a bully. And if the reader still has doubts, she ensures not only that Harry is horrified but also that he compares James to the person he considers his primary bully—the one who has tormented him the most since childhood: Dudley. He doesn’t compare him to Draco; He doesn’t compare him to Draco; he compares him to Dudley. Why? Because Harry doesn’t see Draco as a bully but as an annoying idiot he can stand up to or fight against, knowing Ron and Hermione would gladly help him.

It’s Dudley who tormented him as a child. It’s Dudley who cornered him, Dudley who had power over him with the Dursleys’ protection and approval, with a group of friends backing him to make Harry’s life miserable, and who was bigger and stronger. It’s Dudley who was his bully, not Draco. And it’s Dudley whom Harry compares to James for that very reason.

Deliberately ignoring those details, overlooking or questioning them, is basically crapping all over the narrative structure just because you don’t want to accept that the character you write fanfics about, the one you’ve given a completely invented personality to treat as a queer social justice warrior, was actually a rich, privileged, white, straight kid who ganged up on people in weaker positions.

.

[waifuoftomonori]

Okay, I’ve answered most of these in other posts already, but I’ll go ahead and answer the ones I haven’t. (I’m not sure if this is the usual way to do this, but I doubt anyone’s gonna send me asks and I want to answer the questions anyway.) 1. N/A - no other fictional character brings me nearly as much joy, comfort, or lust as Tomonori of Scarlet Fate

2. Well, when I was a kid, I had a major crush on Farid from Inkheart, if that counts. I haven’t read those books in ages, so he is no longer a blorbo for me, and considering he’s a kid, I don’t know if he would still be if I reread those books. I feel like I might sympathize more with the author, or maybe even get a crush on— what was his name, Dustfinger?— the grown-up thief. …Anyway, due to that combined with the portrayal of certain characters in The Thief Lord, I blame Cornelia Funke for my lifelong obsession with rogues.

3. see my post about the moment of blorbo-ization

4. I have to pick just one? Oh, man. Okay, as impressive and sexy as Tomonori’s composure in the face of various threats is, from a snarling beefy monk to various gods/demons who want to end the world, my favorite thing about him has to be the world-altering potential of his unspoken but deeply passionate love for Shiki. This man was equally willing to cause the apocalypse or save the world for her. That is a choice he canonically laid at her feet. I’ve seen “I’ll end the world in your name / out of love for you” a few times before, and I’ve seen “I’ll save the world for you / because you’re in it” a few times, but this might be the first and only time I’ve seen a character who’s absolutely willing to do either. Who puts his personal opinion of whether the world should continue or end secondary to the opinion of the person he loves, even when he has the power to do either, and gives her that choice instead. That might be the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen a character do in fiction.

5. Do I dislike anything about him? Other than things the writers didn’t fully explain, like whoever decided the role he should play in Gentoka’s route, no. It’s not that I think he’s flawless, but his pettiness and stubbornness and (only sometimes necessary) secretive tendencies and all of that are endearing to me.

6. Uh, I don’t know. The writer in me would be dying to show him my fanfiction and ask, “How would you act if you were in this situation?” or “Is this something you think you would say? How would you change it?” about a million places in the work, but as a person I think that might make him uncomfortable, especially if it came out of nowhere. I do “talk to him” a lot in my journals, and my version of him answers back. We’ve had whole conversations. He can’t seem to stop calling me “Shiki” though; it feels incredibly awkward to have him use my real name for some reason.

7. There’s a fandom other than me? Like, a fandom with collective opinions and stuff? I had no idea.

8. Introvert who’s learned how to read people and interact with them in formal contexts out of necessity. He’ll paste on a smile and say all the right things in public, but if given the choice he’d rather be at home reading.

9. calm, devious, romantic

10. If he’s trying to protect me, yes, absolutely. If that’s not a guarantee and Shiki and Akifusa also exist in this world (mostly Shiki, he’s not quite as protective of Akifusa, who to be fair doesn’t need it from physical threats as much), then I’ll trust him to protect me as long as it doesn’t interfere with their lives or safety.

11. Yup. So many fanfics. Still writing them, in fact.

12. Yeah, my mom, dad, and stepdad all know about him and the extent of my obsession with him. I’d probably gush about him to my brothers more if they were home more often or showed even a trace of interest.

13. Anything I could feasibly see him doing? No. But then I guess if he committed an act that would severely change my opinion of him, he wouldn’t be the same character, would he? So maybe that’s the whole point of the question. …Uh, sorry for clarifying all that. I guess if he raped someone, that would change things.

14. Again: there’s a fandom? Never had that problem. But even if I did, I don’t think I would distance myself from the character, just from the other people. Or if I’d grown close with them, I’d just ask them to stop talking about the character with me, and I’d do the same with them. We’re allowed to have different opinions, but I shouldn’t have to hear them dissing my favorite character if I don’t want to, and I’d hope they would respect that as my friends.

15. Big fandom problems, not mine.

16. Define “canonically”.

17. Hell no. Look, not all writers are sadists who want to see characters suffer. When I do make him suffer, it’s because the story compels me to, or else there wouldn’t be interesting conflict for him (and usually Shiki and/or Akifusa as well) to eventually overcome.

18. Yes. With Shiki and Akifusa, as is doubtless abundantly clear by this point.

19. Short, smartass, scheming, morally complex men who are passionately in love with one woman for the vast majority of their lives. (Or man; I wouldn’t mind reading a gay version of this, I just haven’t found one yet.) Alternate type: thieves, rogues, bandits, cutpurses, pickpockets, footpads, maybe assassins in extreme cases. If the two “types” are combined in one character, so much the better. Also, on a list of fictional characters I find attractive, 4 of the… 20-ish have red eyes, and two of those four are ostensibly human.

20. N/A. …Or, I guess, no. Depending on how one defines “blorbo”. I have favorite characters (and ships) from other works of media, characters and ships of whom I prefer to read fanfiction over fanfiction of any other characters or ships, but I don’t get excited about them the same way I do about Tomonori.

21. N/A

22. I don’t know. I want to say yes, but if he were real I’d feel uncomfortable writing fanfiction about him, since I don’t do RPF. And although I adored him as a character in canon, I think it was through the fanfiction I wrote after that I grew to love him and all his many facets on a deeper level. But I guess if he were real, he’d be dead since he lived in the Heian era, so maybe I wouldn’t have that problem. But I dunno, then I’d have to do even more historical research, and that’s just a pain in the ass. I’d probably still admire him, though.

23. He’s a victim of 1. Gentoka’s route; 2. not appearing in the CD Drama official art that showed the 5 “main” love interests shirtless but apparently Tomonori didn’t matter enough to the writers for that; 3. not getting a nice yukata in the summer festival stories despite the fact that fuckin’ Akifusa got one and from goddess lady’s perspective I would think Tomonori would seem more important and thus more deserving of one, but again, apparently the writers and/or artists didn’t care enough about Tomonori for that; 4. not getting any additional “autumn” stories; and 5. not getting a sequel story. …If anyone does happen to have information that the people in charge of Scarlet Fate released extra bonus stories and/or official art of him wearing anything other than that kimono (or the school uniform for the high school AU CD Drama, but that doesn’t count because it’s not canon and they did it wrong anyway, Shiki should obviously have been childhood friends with Akifusa and Tomonori too, not just some rando girl they instantly crushed on at first sight— leave that to the other love interests)— please let me know, and let me know where I can read or see it.

24. hmmm. I don’t want to change anything. But if I had to? Let’s make him even shorter. Like, 5’0” or something. Even shorter than Shiki.

25. I’m pretty sure they used him in the Scarlet Fate+ app to introduce the player to the game, but of course at that time I didn’t realize who he was. How did I first discover that app? I was playing a bunch of similar otome at the time— well, similar in the sense that you’d spend some version of stamina to read stories for free 5 times a day, or you could pay once to gain access to the full story. I think I gave up on Scarlet Fate+ because it’s really not the kind of story that’s ideally read in small fragments like that, but later I returned to the paid version, bought it, and thoroughly enjoyed Akifusa’s route. (After reading Gentoka’s, which was kinda meh— and I have the problem with it I mentioned above, although I didn’t have that problem at the time because Gentoka’s route is lacking in Tomonori lore so I didn’t have the full context— but helped me realize Shiki’s a badass, and I liked it enough that I wanted to read about other characters. …Anyway, I read Akifusa’s next because Akifusa made me laugh, and I’ve found that’s usually a good sign I’ll enjoy an otome character’s route. Often that character will end up being my favorite. In this case, I fell in love with his best friend instead. Sorry, Akifusa. Look on the bright side, you’re one of the characters I ship with him.) 26. Definitely not. This sounds terrible to admit now, but at the time I thought he was just a tutorial character who they only included because he had a pretty face. Even after you get to see little hints of his personality in the game, I still had no clue. I think the first premonition I had that he might be a more interesting character than I gave him credit for was how he dealt with the “trolley problem” in Akifusa’s route. Possibly.

27. Of course I want more people to know about him. It’s tiring having to explain who he is every time. I joked about making an informational PowerPoint once, but I might seriously consider doing that.

28. Yes. Not for any reason to do with Tomonori specifically, but I have been attacked online for the mere fact that he is a fictional character and I’m obsessing over him. I think I made a post about that too.

29. I’m the only creator of fanfics about him that I know. No, my own fanfiction has not made me cry. It has moved me emotionally on occasion, but not to the point of tears.

30. It’s been six years so far. What’s another three? Sure.

BLORBO ASKS GAME

reblog if you’d like people to send you asks about your Blorbo

who’s the Blorbo that you’ve never posted about on your blog?

who was your first ever Blorbo, who was your childhood Blorbo, and are they still your Blorbo?

was there any specific point / any specific moment that suddenly made this character your Blorbo, or did you slowly grow to love them more and more until they became a Blorbo to you?

what’s the thing you love the most about your Blorbo?

what’s the thing you dislike the most about your Blorbo?

if you could talk to your Blorbo, what would you say to them?

what’s the one thing the fandom gets wrong about your Blorbo?

is your Blorbo an introvert or extrovert?

describe your Blorbo in 3 words

if your Blorbo were real, would you trust them with your life?

have you ever written a fanfic about your Blorbo?

do you talk to your family or in-real-life friends about your Blorbo?

is there any crime, any wrongdoing your Blorbo could commit that would make you stop loving them and remove them from your hyperfixation entirely?

have you ever distanced yourself from your Blorbo / have you ever left a fandom because people in the fandom were being too toxic?

have you ever gotten involved in ship wars?

is your Blorbo canonically alive?

do you like seeing your Blorbo suffer?

do you ship your Blorbo with any character?

when it comes to Blorbos, do you have a type?

if you have more than one Blorbo, do you love them all equally?

if your Blorbo is from a live-action media, are you also a fan of the actor who plays them?

would you still love your Blorbo if they were real?

is your Blorbo a victim of badly written script / bad plot / character assassination in the hands of canon?

if you could change one canonical thing about your Blorbo, what would it be?

how did you first discover your Blorbo?

when you first discovered your Blorbo, did you realize from that moment that they would become your Blorbo?

do you gatekeep your Blorbo? / would you want more people to know about your Blorbo?

have you ever been attacked online just because you liked your Blorbo?

has a fanfic about your Blorbo ever made you cry?

do you think this character will still be your Blorbo three years from now on?

[curated-hdg]

Independence Is Easy by SapphicSounds

Released: February 2024

75k words; 17 chapters

Status: Complete

Wade Winters lives a perfectly happy life as an independent citizen of the Affini Compact. But when his affini friend Dali questions just how independent he really is, the pair agree to a bet: for the next month, whenever he fails to accomplish any part of his daily routine, Dali will start doing it for him. Wade isn't worried, it's not like Dali wants to domesticate him or anything.

Independent pro tip: don't do this.

There is a certain genre of HDG fics, featuring affini that are distinctly sharp and sympathetic protagonists who are fairly unambiguously being victimized by said affini. I'm not sure that Independence is Easy is the first such fic, but I know that if you write a fic in this mold, you will be compared to Independence is Easy. Because Independence is Easy goes unbelievably hard.

There are multiple moments in this fic that broke my brain; multiple moments where I thought "How the hell are there that many chapters left". Each time, the immediate response is "We can go harder". And it can. And it does. I will just straight-up say that Dali is one of the most evil, manipulative characters in the entire canon of HDG. An absolute masterclass in villainy, while still being firmly within the bounds of what an affini is and would do.

Without meaning to spoil too much, have the following six-word sentence: "Please tell me that's my skin." There is no context where you're likely to like the answer to that question.