#but no story around it yet

[vialae]

WIP Game

@loadofschist tagged me but i gotta be honest, i am still pretty new and dont know many people still so i have no idea who i would personally tag im so sorry lmao

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! Tag as many people as you have WIPs.

However, I do have a small amount of WIPs, some of which I have no idea if they will ever see the light of day. Either because my perception on the character has changed, or because I need to gut it and redo it. they are all durgetash go figure

Only Mine

Tactical Jealousy

Fly On The Wall

Old Habits Die Hard

A Disparate Collection of Vagabonds and Strays

[rendevok]

Act II ~ The Challenge

A tapestry for chapter 2 of Let No One Sleep by @azalawa-scroggs on ao3

[aychama]

Crossing paths.

[taxinealkaloids]

horrible children who are. so so mean to each other

[emdeerm]

Past saves Present

Og fic ig

In some cultures, it is believed that children are able to remember bits of their past lives till the ages of 3-5.

For Danny, the opposite was true. He got his memories at exactly the second he turned 5.

And he had to promptly dodge the blade of the boy in front of him.

His brother, his mind supplied. His twin.

Danny stopped swinging his own sword, focusing on dodging and avoiding the fate of being a slashed pillow. His new/earned skills especially helped with that greatly as his head was seriously trying to re-kill him.

"I yield," he rasped as he jumped away from his brother and looked at their Mother. "My head hurts, Mother," he added pitifully.

His twin looked slightly concerned for a second, before schooling his face in a way Grandfather has been teaching them.

"Tch." But he did put away the blade before their Mother, said a word.

"Dynial, Damian, you are not to stop until you have received permission in the future."

The boys nodded. Mother took their hands and led them out of the private training ground back to their rooms.

Danny spent the rest of the day lying down, slightly feverish and miserable as his brain was processing and acclimating the new set of memories. Clockwork said it wouldn't be too bad. We'll, the clock bustard has been wrong. It fucking sucked.

His brother was hovering. Their Mother was always around, not letting anyone into their space. Ra's is being kept in the dark.

A peaceful rest was all he needed for his brain to finish sorting out new information. And Danny was stuck in a bit of a dilemma.

You see, Damian and Dynial love their Mother, strive to be the best Demon Twins, and see nothing wrong with their life so far.

Their hands are still clean.

Danny, on the other hand, has many MANY choice words for his current situation and one Clock Ghost.

You want to try reincarnation ONE time! No wonder others don't really do that.

-------

Their days continued like they did before he got his memory back. It wasn't hard to be Dynial when he actually was him.

The nights were filled with planning. And a personally assigned mission: get Damian to be interested in normal things.

Stars weren't much of a hit. Uncultured child.

Animals were a little intriguing.

Simple art and craft projects seemed to hit the spot.

Keeping their little meetings and activities hidden wasn't as hard as one would think. Mother still had her missions. The two of them were often left alone in their wing of the place, the supervisors being allowed only till the doors. Ra's was the Head. He didn't check in on them all the time. The two of them weren't slacking in their training either and were considered prodigies.

Danny wanted out of this Cult.

A many months after feeding different information, facts, crafts and so on to his brother, Damian was curious. He was suspicious about the sudden knowledge but he was also 5. He only had to reference the Lazarus Pit (unfiltered and dirty ectoplasm? Seriously? Clockwork, you can't expect him to work on his vocation) once to convince the child.

They snooped around and found out that they had a father out in the world.

Danny got a plan.

It was super stupid. And dangerous as hell. As well as literally (half)suicidal. But he felt it in his chest and knew he'd succeed.

His Core was here. But it was sleeping. And if he wanted to be safe and away from here, he needed to start it up again.

The big pool of Ecto would do just fine. His Core would filter out the impurities.

He didn't want to stay here until his hands no longer protected. He didn't want such life for his brother either.

---

Damian infiltrated the Lazarus Room just in time to see his brother jump into the Pit.

He ran to the edge.

He was sinking.

The green was too bright. The smell around them was too much. His ears rang.

He reached towards the water, eyes unseeing and hands numb. His heartbeat was too loud.

His brother's wasn't loud enough.

"Don't touch the puddles, Dami, you'll get sick," a gentle, cold hand stopped him from diving.

The child looked up. His brother was floating above the water. He looked all wrong. But he was there.

"I didn't want you to see this part..." his brother laughed awkwardly as he landed next to him. A bright ring of light blinded Damian for a second.

And his brother was back.

-----

Getting used to his powers again felt nice but tedious. Soothing his twin was heartbreaking. He didn't think this through hard enough.

Their Mother was none the wiser to the fact that one of her children died and came back. Nore was she privy to the escape being planned by both.

On one moonless night, when Mother wasn't there, the shift was changing and the world was asleep; two boys phased through the walls and flew. Small bags of stuff were strapped onto them as they traveled to their father.

Mother's notes called him Bruce Wayne, Batman, Beloved and Detective.

It wasn't hard to find him when they arrived.

Though, Danny didn't expect a furless furry and a pantless child to be their new family.

Can he ever get a normal Family???

[ovenproofowl]

bad blood is one hell of an episode. it literally opens with mulder straight-up murdering a regular teenager via stake-through-the-heart and he and scully are like pretty sure the FBI is going to be sued and they're going to be doing some serious jail time. except both of them remember the story differently. scully's story is predictably logical and straight-forward. the killer was drugging his victims before bleeding them out, mimicking a vampire attack by wearing fake fangs (which are proven to be fake. this is crucial. this kid was wearing plastic fangs when mulder stabbed him. in the chest. with a wooden stake.) what is also crucial is that mulder was a victim of this murderer's attack and so he was tripping hard when scully intercepts the killer. mulder - whilst tripping balls - is convinced that the killer has glowing eyes and flew across the room before running out the door. and so - whilst tripping balls - he gives chase and ends up stabbing the kid through the heart with a wooden stake.

and of course this is the x files and so while scully and mulder are arguing over who gave who the hardest time in their percieved series of events, it turns out that mulder was right. the kid was a vampire and the stake didn't actually kill him. the fangs were fake because he was copying the sorts of vampires that you see in books and on tv. he was a real vampire.

and it's not just the kid. there are bunches of vampires, including the sheriff. the whole town are just. vampires. the lot of 'em. and the second they're found out, they just up and leave without a trace.

sometimes the extent to which mulder turns out to be right in this show is borderline ludicrous, it's amazing, I love it. but what was even better was that the biggest point of contention between scully and mulder's stories wasn't even the vampire thing, it was whether or not the sheriff was actually hot.

[ahaura]

im sure its been said already but as the election draws near more and more liberals will come out of the woodwork to shame people with a conscience to give away their vote to the democrats for free. i'm already seeing posts saying "why aren't people more concerned about a trump presidency?" you want to know why? it's because people already know he's bad. everyone already knows what he is and what he's done and what he'll do. there's nothing to discuss. he's a racist despotic worm of a man. there's nothing else to say.

biden is currently president. the genocide is happening under his watch. he's the one funding isra*l and arming them; he's sidestepped congress more than once to give them weapons. by oct. 27, the biden administration already knew that "Israel was regularly bombing buildings without solid intelligence that they were legitimate military targets." the state department/biden have engaged in atrocity propaganda, cast doubt on the legitimacy of the death toll recorded by the gaza health ministry, and so on. the united states is currently in the process of trying to pin the "war in gaza" on netanyahu (see sen. schumer's speech) after months of backing blatant genocide as a means to act as if they're "doing something" about the genocide (Instead of, say, threatening to cut off all aid to israel with the condition that all hostilities in gaza, the west bank, and occupied jerusalem are halted immediately and permanently, allowing palestinians freedom to travel, allowing aid into gaza, etc etc etc.)

the long and short of it is that liberals view their own lives as being worth more than palestinians'. that's it. they'll vote for another 4 years of the guy ushering in genocide and supporting apartheid + settler colonialism because he isn't outright attacking them (despite various laws and rulings happening both at the supreme court level and at the local level all over the country that will endanger people). they'll settle for the illusion of safety and security and shame anyone with a conscience and accuse them of "supporting the republicans" when in an actual democracy you would be able to use your vote as leverage to extract concessions from those who want to be elected. that's how it's supposed to fucking work.

democrats are not owed people's vote. if biden loses, it will be biden's fault; it will be his campaign's fault; it will be the democrats' fault. trump is bad; the republicans are bad. we already know this. this is not an endorsement of either. but if democrats are too cowardly and feckless and servile to the motivations of the american empire and never do anything for their constituents then why the fuck should anyone vote for them. you want to get mad at someone, why don't you do something useful and stop worrying about team-sports with a purely selfish basis and start hounding the people in power who are supposed to serve you, the voter.

[agentc0rn]

⦿ Help Zygarde end the clash between Xerneas and Yveltal and restore order.

[ryllen]

Was giving these analysis a read [ x , x , x , x ]

[skitskatdacat63]

2023 Qatar Grand Prix - Sprint - Oscar Piastri

[trensu]

Guess who's baaaaack! It's me, I'm back to writing. My laptop when kaput back in May and I've only recently gotten a replacement. In celebration of this, here's more of stasis in darkness. Enjoy :)

.

“Hello. I’ve wanted to meet you for years,” the god said. 

“Years? But, why would you want–? I’m–I’m no one, Lord.”

“Don’t say that.”

The god’s voice hadn’t gotten louder, yet his words carried a force that made the room tremble. The air became heavy with it. Wayne’s breathing grew haggard under the pressure of the words. Steve tossed out any idea of false privacy and crossed the room in a few steps to kneel at the other side of the bed. He took Wayne’s free hand to anchor him. Wayne didn’t so much as twitch in his direction but his knuckles went white as he gripped Steve’s hand.

“You gave me your spoils and your stories every night. I felt your love in every word you spoke to me. You’re the reason I’ve been able to exist this long. Wayne Munson, you are the most important person in the world to me."

Wayne let out a wordless cry. The hand in Steve's shook. Steve viscerally remembered how it felt to have the god’s attention like that for the first time. He also remembered how guilty the god sounded after he realized the effect he had on mortals. With a slight grimace, Steve discreetly nabbed the Lord of Night's attention. 

"I think that was a little too much," Steve suggested cautiously in a low tone barely audible over Wayne's sobs. "Maybe dial it back a little?"

The Lord of Night nodded abashedly. When he spoke again, the pressure in his speech noticeably lessened though the love in his words remained.

“So, you see, I needed to meet you in person. To thank you.”

The last part made Wayne weep louder. The grip he had on Steve’s hand increased in strength, and Steve was sort of relieved Wayne was an old man because even this frail, his hands were pretty damn strong. If he’d been any younger, Steve would’ve had bruises for sure. The god waited patiently as Wayne collected himself.

“My Lord, y-you–” Wayne gasped as his crying subsided. “I don’t deserve–”

“Wayne, you crazy old man, are you going to argue with your god?” the Lord of Night said in the same teasing tone he used with Steve all those nights in his pilgrimage. Wayne’s eyes widened.

“N-No! I’d never–!”

The god laughed, playful and bright as a star. Wayne halted his protests to stare in awe again. 

“You know, I usually encourage a bit of dissent but this time, I’m putting my foot down. You do deserve this, okay?”

Wayne nodded dazedly. He still watched the god with soft, warm eyes. His hand twitched in Steve’s as if he wanted to reach up to touch the god. Steve loosened his grip to allow it but Wayne didn’t follow through with the motion.

“...you remind me of someone,” Wayne whispered. The Lord of Night tilted his head curiously.

“Do I?” he asked. At Wayne’s nod, he added, “I hope it’s someone good. I know what people say about me these days, and let me tell you, it’s not super flattering. King of Darkness this and monster herder that, blah, blah, mean and scary, blah.”

“I know better than to pay any mind to hearsay,” Wayne replied. "I’ve found that most people are fools, my Lord." 

The Lord of Night laughed again. Wayne looked delighted. 

The rest of the night continued along the same line. The Lord of Night listened eagerly to Wayne’s every word as he reminisced about past heists and recalled fond childhood memories. Steve kept to himself, for the most part, letting the Lord of Night and his last believer bask in each other’s presence. Wayne stayed awake as long as he could but finally fell asleep as dawn approached. The Lord of Night began to fade as the first rays of the morning peeked through the bedroom window.

“Watch over him for me, please?” the Lord of Night asked Steve. “I’ll be back tonight.”

“Of course, Lord,” Steve replied. 

The sun broke past the horizon and the Lord of Night vanished. Steve took the stone from the bedside table. He wrapped it up carefully in cloth before returning it to his satchel. That level of care probably wasn’t necessary considering it was solid stone but it was the only thing they knew would keep the god tethered to this plane so far from his last shrine. Steve was charged with carrying his god's tether and he would not let him down by being careless with it.

It was also the only thing he had been given that belonged to his god. Typically, a holy warrior would be granted a symbol of their faith by a temple priest once a god had accepted the holy warrior’s offered service. Most of the time it would be a simple pendant or bracelet with a god’s sigil; a mass produced thing any follower could obtain, the only difference being that a holy warrior’s token would carry a particular blessing from the high priest. A holy warrior would carry that as a sign of their commitment until they’ve earned a more prestigious item to replace it during their years of service.

Steve’s journey so far has been as atypical as it could get. Most warriors traveled to their god's grandest temple. They recited that god's specific prayer for a holy warrior's offering, witnessed by a high priest who would then reveal whether the offering was accepted. Steve's god had no official prayers of any sort, much less temples or clergy. Steve's god couldn't really remember his own symbol aside from a vague outline of it; not nearly enough for it to be inscribed on even the simplest of tokens. 

Regardless, Steve wouldn't trade his experience for anything. Most holy warriors toiled for years, even decades, before getting a chance to meet their god. Steve met his god nearly at the beginning though he hadn't known it at the time. He'd been able to see him and speak to him. Steve’s humble offering of servitude had been accepted directly by his god rather than by priestly proxy. So what if his god wasn't able to grant him a token for his pledge? His presence was a privilege Steve would take over any boon.

It was a sentiment Steve knew Wayne understood. Steve scooted his chair closer to the bed where the old man lay sleeping. He wrapped a hand around Wayne's wrist to track his weak pulse, and settled in for his vigil.

–

Steve woke Wayne a handful of times to make sure he drank some water or ate some of the vegetable soup Steve had thrown together using whatever he’d picked from the garden the day before. They chatted for a while; Wayne telling Steve about his life before age and sickness caught up to him. Eventually, Steve was able to coax him back to sleep when it became obvious his energy was fading.

At some point in the day, Wayne’s temperature began to rise. Nothing worrisome yet, but dread trickled into Steve’s veins regardless. The old man had been fighting whatever ailed him for a while now. If a fever overcame him, Steve doubted Wayne would survive it.

When the Lord of Night appeared alongside the fading sunset, he seemed as worried as Steve. Wayne sat in bed, propped up by pillows Steve had strategically placed. His eyes were rheumy but steady.

“You’ve seen the Door already, haven’t you?” the Lord of Night asked Wayne dejectedly.

Wayne’s gaze strayed from the god. He glanced at the corner opposite of the bedroom door. His hands shook as he tried to point that direction. Steve didn't see any door there. The god took Wayne's hand between his own, tangible to his last believer even as he appeared more translucent than the night before.

“It showed up earlier today,” Wayne whispered. The god nodded.

“You don’t have to answer yet, but soon. Once you go through the Door, you’ll be in Death's domain. No god is allowed to enter there besides him. I would have lost my chance to meet you if we’d been delayed any longer.”

“Good thing you have Ser Steve. He got you here real quick from what he told me,” Wayne said with a crooked smile.

“Has he been talking himself up?” the god asked amusedly. “Trying to impress the boss?”

“It’s my first quest,” Steve butted in with mild exasperation borne of embarrassment. He hadn’t expected Wayne to mention him at all during his communion with the Lord of Night. “I have to make a good impression.”

“To make up for the first impression, huh?” the Lord of Night teased. 

Oh no, Steve thought when he caught Wayne’s curious look. He wanted to hide his face in his hands. That would be childish. Steve was a man so he was above that, unfortunately.

“Wayne,” the Lord of Night said with palpable mischief. “In exchange for all the stories you’ve given me these many years, what if I told you how I got my very first holy warrior?”

“I didn’t know better,” Steve groaned weakly in an effort to stop the story before it began in earnest. The Lord of Night made a shushing motion in his direction. 

“It would be a privilege, Lord,” Wayne said with matching mischief.

“Settle in, my loyal follower, and listen closely,” the Lord of Night began with exuberance. “I call this tale The Trial of Nine Nights.”

The rest of the night, the god recounted Steve’s pilgrimage. The way he told it painted Steve as some sort of gallant hero. It was suspenseful and whimsical. It didn’t sound like Steve’s experience at all. Yet every word was true, told with a flair that Steve himself would never have imagined. Wayne had hung on his god’s every word, despite the sporadic interruptions caused by coughing fits.

“The way you tell stories…” Wayne said faintly between coughs as the story wound to an end. “You…really do remind me of…someone. My little starmaker*. He was…” His voice trailed off weakly as he tried to catch his breath again.

“Rest now. Tell me about him tonight, Wayne,” the Lord of Night commanded as he disappeared with the arrival of dawn.

Wayne’s temperature seemed to climb with the sun. Steve did what he could to help. He stripped the bed of blankets and draped cold, damp towels over Wayne’s brow. More than once Wayne had asked Steve to answer the door.

“Someone’s knocking,” Wayne insisted.

“I’ve checked already,” Steve lied. He hadn’t heard a single knock all day, much less one coming from the very door-less spot Wayne kept indicating. “No one’s there.”

Wayne drifted in and out of a restless slumber. Despite Steve’s efforts, the fever had not lowered by nightfall. The Lord of Night paced at the foot of Wayne’s bed with a caged restlessness. Wayne had yet to wake up. 

“I don’t think he’s going to make it. Can you do anything for him?” Steve asked, hesitantly. “You came here to help him, didn’t you?”

“No,” the Lord of Night said shortly. “I can’t. I’m not a god of medicine. I’m not a healer.”

Each word was said with increasingly helpless frustration.

“I’m not strong enough to calm his dreams. I can’t ease his pain,” the Lord of Night said angrily. “At this rate, I won’t even be able to apologize to him.”

“Apologize for what?” Steve asked incredulously. Steve’s question went unheard. The Lord of Night tugged at his hood as if trying to hide his not-face. He gave up his pacing and slumped defeatedly on the chair beside Wayne’s bed.

“His family has sustained me for so long. He’s so devoted to me, and I keep failing him,” the god said, voice thick with shame. The brooding silence that followed was unlike the Lord of Night’s usual demeanor.

Steve wanted to protest the god’s claim. He was tempted to ask why the god believed he’d failed his last follower. Steve had seen people who’ve scorned and rejected their gods for a multitude of reasons. Wayne had not behaved like any of those people. Wayne had been so happy to see the god, Steve couldn’t imagine Wayne wanting an apology of any sort.

Before Steve could steel himself to ask, Wayne finally stirred awake.The Lord of Night straightened and drew the chair closer to his last follower. Steve situated himself near the corner Wayne had claimed to see a door. There wasn’t anything Steve could realistically achieve by placing himself between Wayne and the unseen door. When Death’s Door knocked, there was nothing a mortal being could do to keep it from opening. Regardless, Steve hoped he could provide some semblance of comfort by standing guard. 

Wayne’s eyes were glassy. He lay limp and disoriented, making not a sound outside his labored breathing. Neither the Lord of Night nor Steve spoke. Steve didn’t want to startle the man nor bring his attention to the unseen door. After a few minutes, Wayne finally noticed his bedside companion. 

“You,” he croaked in a daze. “I know you.”

“Yeah, it’s me.” The somber tone went unnoticed by Wayne whose entire face brightened with an unexpected joy. 

“Eddie,” Wayne said shakily. 

“What?”

“Eddie, you’re here,” Wayne said with more love and joy than Steve had ever heard from another person. He felt a momentary flash of envy that someone could hold another so dear, before it hit him that Wayne was speaking to the Lord of Night. The god seemed as dumbstruck as Steve over it.

“Is…is that me?” the Lord of Night asked. The god sounded so young and lost. It reminded Steve of Dustin and his friends when they were small. It inspired all the same protective instincts.

“‘course it’s you, Eddie,” Wayne said fondly. 

“Eddie,” the Lord of Night whispered. “Oh, it is. It is me. I’m here.” 

The words rang through the air. The finality in them nearly deafened Steve. The words were a realization that shifted the entire cosmos. The air he breathed, the light he saw, the very world he perceived had changed fundamentally. It was a change so loud and obvious, Steve was certain every human left on earth and everyone beyond the Door knew it happened. Yet between one blink and the next, the world remained the same as it ever was. Everything that had been still was and would continue to be for as long as the stars burn.

Inexplicably, Steve experienced a bout of vertigo at the shift that had and hadn’t happened. He fought back a wave of nausea that accompanied it.

“Eddie,” Wayne rasped over the rattling of his weak lungs. No longer translucent, the god appeared solid and real in a way he hadn’t even at the shrine where Steve first encountered him. Wayne’s wrinkled hand reached out to gently cup the Lord of Night’s cheek.

"Hey, Uncle Wayne," the Lord of Night said with a new voice. 

"My starmaker, I missed you. So much. But how're you here? You were gone, you di–"

"We didn't want you to be alone," Eddie, Lord of Night, responded thickly, leaning into the hand and covering it with his own.  "We wanted to thank you for taking care of us all these years."

"Don’t,” Wayne wheezed, teary. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Eddie. You deserved so much more than your pa or me ever gave you."

"No! No, Uncle Wayne, don't apologize," he said earnestly. "You were perfect. You gave us a home when pa died. We were so little and you protected us. You loved us. That's all we ever wanted."

“Oh, Eddie,” Wayne said in a heartbroken rasp. “That damn door’s been knocking all day. Who'll take care of you when I'm gone, Eddie?" 

"Don't you worry about that, Uncle Wayne. Steve's gonna look after me.”

“Are you sure?”

The Lord of Night took off his hood and turned back to look at Steve for the first time since he sat himself at Wayne’s side. All the air left Steve’s lungs in one fell swoop. His god had a face.

His god was beautiful.

The Lord of Night’s skin remained pale, providing a stark contrast to his large, dark brown eyes glittered with bittersweet joy and sorrow. His lips, full and a soft shade of pink, were pulled into a wide, mischievous grin that dimpled his cheeks. His dark eyebrows were almost hidden under wild curls. His hair draped over the slope of his shoulders and matched his eyes wonderfully.

Steve willed himself to stay steadfast and strong under the god’s gaze. The Lord of Night’s grin twisted a bit as if he wasn't entirely pleased by what he saw. The nausea from before came back because Steve knew what people looked like when he'd disappointed them. As usual, he had no idea what he'd done wrong.

“Yeah, I’m sure. He already promised,” Eddie, the Lord of Night, said. He turned back to Wayne and gently wiped the sweat off the old man's brow. 

“Good,” Wayne said with a. “You need someone takin’ care of you, the way you get in trouble all the time.”

“We weren’t that bad,” Eddie said with a watery smile. After a pause, Eddie continued reluctantly. “Uncle Wayne, if you need to answer the Door, you can. I won’t be alone.”

“Yeah,” Wayne murmured. “I’m tired, Eddie.”

“You won’t be for long, I promise, just answer the Door.”

Wayne’s breathing slowed. His eyes drooped closed. Eddie clung to his hand until it went lax. A choked sound escaped him when Wayne’s breathing stopped. Steve instinctively stepped forward to comfort him but Eddie abruptly stood up, sending the chair clattering to the floor. He whirled around and stumbled towards the empty space Steve left behind. 

“You better take care of him. Wayne is a good man, he’s earned–” Eddie said to…the wall? But stopped and reeled back. His mouth curved down in a scowl. Eddie’s eyes were dark and glowering as he stared at something there that Steve himself could not see.

“Oh, fuck you, I know I can’t do anything to you but–”

Eddie stopped again. He looked like he wanted to punch something. Or someone?

“I just want to know that he’ll be happy and saf–hey, asshole, I’m still talking you, don’t you dare– FUCK,” Eddie shouted at nothing. He panted in anger. Steve cleared his throat.

“My Lord?”

“I forgot how much of a dick he is. It’s not like I was asking for details! I don’t fucking care what’s past his stupid Door. It’s not a crime to want your family to, like, go somewhere good after. He could’ve just said yes or no!” Eddie ranted.

“My Lord, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Oh,” Eddie paused. “Right. You wouldn’t. And you shouldn’t. Not yet. Not for a long time, hopefully.”

------

*starmaker - so this is a reference to some lore i dropped in the previous scene during some edits I made after I had posted it on tumblr. basically, the legend explains why bedtime stories are a thing and that the lord of night creates a star for every story that impresses him. a really good book or author will get called a starmaker, though to the general population it's just a thing people say to denote greatness in stories without context of where the saying came from.

------

and now we're all caught up with what i've written so far, wow! but don't worry, i still have plenty more to write, stay tuned.

[fatedtime]

I know there’s a lot of people talking about the culture conflict between Toshiro and Laios, but I think it’s important to acknowledge the class conflict between them too. Mayor’s child or not, Laios is still from the boonies, while Toshiro is waited on hand and foot by a flock of women his family employs to serve his needs. This has 100% stifled Toshiro’s ability to communicate with others, to the point where acknowledging his retainers and thanking them for their efforts is shown as a huge point of growth.

Meanwhile, Laios’s bumbling nature towards Toshiro’s boundaries is very much informed by his lack of knowledge of other people and places. He knows how much it hurt him to see his sister rejected by people whose insular attitudes made her powers frightening to them, so he tries to express overtures of friendship towards Toshiro by being so interested in him that it comes off as frightening instead. While he means well, his lack of knowledge on how to interact with people who are different from him puts Toshiro in a weird spot, and this lack of knowledge isn’t just the autism — it’s where he was born and raised. And it’s something real kids from rural areas go through when they enter more urban spaces. The sorts of social manners that are appropriate there aren’t appropriate elsewhere, and they get seen as… well. Inelegant. Pushy.

If Laios had gotten Hien’s name wrong, she would have decked him. But because it was Toshiro, whose upbringing didn’t give him any conflict resolution skills (because he’s around people who have to bend to his needs*) he doesn’t know how to sort things out with Laios, and grows to resent him. It’s not just the culture, it’s the place he occupies class-wise.

That’s part of why I love Toshiro’s arc — if this was just a culture conflict where Laios commits microagressions against him, as I’ve mostly seen it put, him ultimately learning a lesson would be pretty weird. But it’s not. His upbringing as a noble lord’s son in a BONKERS family has given him certain issues… and Laios helps him confront that, so he can live without regrets.

(*please note, this is a massive oversimplification of what the hell is going on with Toshiro Nakamoto. i just didn't want to write a book.)

[redrobin-detective]

Something I wonder about Simon and Betty's relationship is how long they were together before the whole crown ordeal. But they were engaged, you say. My aunt (in)famously met my uncle and had a ring on her finger in 8 weeks. We've seen that both Betty and Simon were both weird outcasts, crazy determined and a pinch insane. I would not be surprised if they decided they'd met their one true love and got engaged super quick.

My point being, Betty's shifting to revolve around Simon and Simon's rose colored glasses of their relationship feels very much like New Love. They're people who love each other and love being a couple but still haven't quite figured out how to coexist together, as two people in a partnership. I feel like if they'd known each other longer, lived together longer, some of the issues we're seeing would have probably self resolved.

I don't think their relationship is toxic nor is it totally perfect. It's two lonely, most likely neurodivergent people in a relatively early relationship still figuring out how it works. Everything that happened afterwards: the crown, the seperation, the time travel, the magic/madness/sadness just exemplified issues they had both as individuals and as a couple.

[goldensunset]

tbh i don’t know if they’ll ever top ogerpon. first they start by hyping up The Ogre as this terrifying monster in the lore. then you get the stark contrast of the real ogre being a tiny leaf creature looking like (☆w☆). then add on it having a sad backstory. then add on it having at least three confirmed kills. then add on it being the subject of a custody battle following our divorce. then add on it being canonically a girl. no one else is doing it like her

[joshuamj]

been scribbling out some little comics for my EoW!Zelda Impersonates Link AU!

[beaulesbian]

I've started going through some of the fillers now that I'm caught up with the main manga story, and this first one about the dragon and lost island (eps 54-60) is pretty interesting - especially how Luffy could hear the dragon's thoughts, (in a way it reminded me of him hearing Zunesha on Zou, though it is different)

and how Zoro could pretty quickly tell when someone dangerous was nearby (with a sense that seems very similar to observation haki 🤔)

but also this fun zolu part:

I've seen it in some clips or screenshots before (gifs and screenshots really don't do justice to the amazing voice acting here lol "Zoorooooooooooooooo") but I haven't seen it with the context of this Apis girl being worried about Zoro before, (who stayed behind to let the crew get away with the dragon, and they managed that, and her concern made Luffy search out for Zoro to get him back to their ship. (Thankfully, because otherwise he would have totally get so lost on that small island)

and even in one scene before this clip she was worried if Zoro was going to be alright - and Luffy could reassure her with his absolute certainty that Zoro would be just fine.

It's pretty fun how this scenario repeats all the way thoughout the story (with at least two very similar scenes being in Dressrosa) where other people question if Zoro would be fine and Luffy has the full trust in his capabilites and strength.