#but rarely is a morally gray character set up to NOT seem morally gray at the beginning and you see it play out

[seokwoosmole]

Never has my opinion about a non-antagonist character changed so drastically than it has about Shigure ok there might have been some before but right now I can’t think of any.

I went from “Oh he’s just a silly lil guy” to “*sobs* silly *sobs again* DAD” to “ohhhh….silly….pervy😳lil guy” to “ohhhh….silly mysterious guy???” to “oh- oh….😬”

[doritochoi]

pairing: king elf choi san X human!reader

genre: fantasy, smut, slow burn, dark romance, supernatural, royalty, forbidden desire

word count: 11,6k (42 minutes)

warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, blood and injury, dark themes (including fear and death), morally gray characters, power imbalances, explicit language, eventual explicit content (smut), themes of captivity, slow trust-building, mentions of magic and curses, and emotionally intense scenes.

A/n: Hey everyone! I’m so sorry it’s been such a long time since I last posted—I’ve been swamped with school and barely had time to write anything. Recently, I rewatched The Lord of the Rings, and it completely inspired me to create a story with a similar vibe. I hope you’ll love this twisty, magical world as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think! 💗

Your village sat on the edge of a dark forest, a place where sunlight rarely touched the ground. It was a simple life, full of chores and quiet days. People often told stories of the forest—how it was sacred, forbidden, alive in ways no one could explain. But you never believed those stories. To you, they were just warnings to scare children, until the night the creatures came. They arrived without sound, like shadows in the dark. Their glowing eyes and twisted forms were unlike anything you had ever seen. They destroyed homes, set fires, and dragged people screaming into the night. Your family begged you to run, to leave them behind and save yourself. You didn’t want to go. But when you saw one of the creatures tear through your neighbor’s door, you had no choice.

So you ran

The hills stretched endlessly before you, but you could feel it—their eyes on you. One of them was still following, its growl echoing in the distance. When you reached the edge of the forest, you stopped. The trees were massive, their trunks twisted and ancient. The stories of the elders whispered in your mind: “The Forest of Luthënar is no place for mortals. Those who enter are never seen again.” But the growl behind you grew louder, and you knew there was no other way. You stepped into the forest.

The air changed immediately. It was heavy, damp, and strangely silent. The only sound was the crunch of leaves beneath your feet as you pushed deeper into the woods. You could hear the creature behind you, crashing through the trees, and your heart pounded. The forest didn’t seem to want you there. Roots twisted up from the ground, trying to trip you. Branches reached out like claws. You dodged them as best you could, but you were already so tired. When you glanced back, the creature’s glowing eyes locked on yours. It was fast—too fast. You tried to push yourself harder, but the forest was too wild. Your foot caught on a thick root, and you fell. Pain exploded in your head as you hit the ground. The last thing you saw before everything went dark was the forest above you, the trees twisting together like they were closing in.

When you opened your eyes, it wasn’t the forest floor beneath you. You were lying on something soft, like a bed, and warm light streamed through the air. Slowly, you sat up, wincing at the ache in your body. The room around you was unlike anything you’d ever seen. The walls seemed to be made of living wood, with golden light shining through cracks in the branches. The carvings on the ceiling looked ancient and beautiful, full of strange symbols and patterns. You looked down at yourself. Your old, dirt-stained clothes were gone, replaced with a soft tunic. Before you could wonder what had happened, a voice cut through the silence. "She's awake". You turned your head to see a man standing by the door. He wore silver armor that gleamed in the light, and his sharp features were cold and unreadable.“Bring her to the king,” he said. Two other guards stepped forward, their expressions as blank as stone. They helped you to your feet, ignoring your protests, and led you out of the room. The halls were like a maze, carved from the trees themselves. The air was thick with magic, and the light seemed to shift and shimmer. But you didn’t have long to look before you were brought to a massive room. At its center was a throne made of twisting branches and silver, and sitting on it was the most striking figure you’d ever seen. Choi San, the king of this strange, hidden realm. His hair was short and dark red, a deep color that reminded you of embers. It framed his sharp features perfectly, his piercing eyes watching your every move. He was dressed in robes of dark green and black, lined with silver thread that shimmered as he moved. San sat with one leg crossed over the other, his posture relaxed but his presence overwhelming. He studied you carefully, his gaze moving from your face to your hands, as if searching for something. The longer he looked, the smaller you felt. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice low and cold. You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. “I… I didn’t mean to come here,” you said, your voice shaking. His gaze didn’t waver. “And yet, here you are.”, “I was being chased,” you said quickly. “By something… I didn’t know where else to go.” San tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “I didn’t mean to—” ,“Silence,” he said sharply, and you froze. He rose from his throne, the movement so smooth it seemed unnatural. As he stepped closer, the light caught the silver embroidery on his robes, making it seem like he was glowing. “You entered the Forest of Luthënar, knowing nothing of its laws or its dangers,” he said, his voice calm but dangerous. “Do you have any idea what this place is?”. You shook your head, trembling. “This is no place for mortals,” he said, his eyes locked on yours. “And yet… you’ve survived.” For a moment, he stood there, his expression unreadable. Then, without looking away from you, he spoke to the guards. “Take her to the dungeons,” he ordered.

The days in the dungeons bled into weeks. Weeks into months. Time became a haze of cold stone, fleeting dreams, and the weight of unspoken words. The guards came and went, wordless as always, their presence a fleeting shadow. Yet, despite the monotony, there was a shift in the air—a tension that hadn’t been there before. You noticed it in San’s visits. At first, he had come to question you, his cold eyes cutting through you as he demanded answers you couldn’t give. Over time, those visits grew less frequent. But when he did appear, something in his gaze lingered too long. His sharp features—too perfect to be mortal—softened ever so slightly, as though he were searching for something he could not name. You had long since stopped trying to understand him. Yet, even in the dim silence of the dungeons, you felt his presence looming, like the whisper of a storm on the horizon. That night, you were jolted awake by the sound of iron scraping against stone. The cell door swung open, and two guards stepped inside, their expressions as impassive as ever. “Up,” one of them barked. You blinked, groggy and disoriented. “What’s happening?” The guards didn’t answer. They seized your arms with unyielding force, pulling you to your feet. You struggled, fear clawing at your chest. “Where are you taking me?”, “Silence,” the other guard snapped. You had no choice but to comply as they dragged you through the winding corridors. The forest palace was silent, the usual hum of its magic muted as though it, too, were holding its breath. When they threw open the doors to the great hall, the sight before you stole the air from your lungs.

The room was vast, its walls carved from living trees that stretched impossibly high, their branches intertwining to form a ceiling of shimmering leaves. Light cascaded down in ethereal beams, casting the hall in a golden-green glow that felt both warm and foreboding. Intricate carvings adorned every surface—scenes of battles, feasts, and stories long forgotten by mortals. And at the center of it all, on a throne of twisting silver and ebony, sat him.

Choi San.

The Elven King.

His presence commanded the room, even as he sat in stillness. His dark red hair, like the embers of a dying fire, caught the light in a way that seemed otherworldly. His robes, deep green lined with silver, draped elegantly over his lean frame, accentuating the sharp angles of his face. He looked as though he had been sculpted by the gods themselves—beautiful, cold, and untouchable. Yet, his expression was far from serene. His jaw was tight, his piercing eyes fixed on you as though you were a puzzle he couldn’t solve. At his side was a long table, its surface littered with scrolls, maps, and what looked like an ancient goblet. The guards shoved you forward, and you stumbled, landing on the cold stone floor before the throne. You winced, the impact jarring your knees, but you barely had time to register the pain before something clattered onto the ground in front of you.

Your medallion.

The delicate chain glinted in the soft light, and the pendant, a green, pearlescent leaf. For a moment, you simply stared at it, your heart thudding in your chest. San rose from his throne with the grace of a predator. Every movement was calculated, his robes shifting like water around him. He descended the steps slowly, each step reverberating in the silence until he stood over you. “Where did you get this?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. You looked up at him, confusion and fear warring within you. “It—it’s mine.”

“Do not lie to me.” His tone was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. “This medallion… it does not belong to you.” Your brows furrowed. “I’m not lying. I’ve had it for as long as I can remember.” He crouched before you, his piercing eyes boring into yours. “You expect me to believe that a mere mortal stumbled into my realm, wearing this?”His fingers brushed the medallion, and you flinched at the sudden intensity in his gaze. He wasn’t just angry, he was shaken.“I don’t understand,” you whispered. “What does it mean to you?”San straightened, his expression unreadable. “This medallion,” he said slowly, “belonged to my queen.”His words struck you like a thunderclap. You stared at him, your mind reeling. “Your… queen?”San turned away, his posture rigid. “She is gone,” he said quietly, his voice laced with something you couldn’t place—pain, perhaps, or anger. “No one but her could have possessed this medallion.”

“I swear,” you said quickly, your voice trembling. “I don’t know how I got it. I’ve had it since I was a child. My family said it’s always been mine.”He turned back to you, his expression unreadable. “You expect me to believe that this—this artifact—found its way to a mortal child by chance?”

“I don’t know!” you cried. “I’ve never understood what it was. It’s just… always been there.”His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought he would lash out. Instead, he moved to the table beside his throne. With a sudden sweep of his arm, he sent everything on it crashing to the floor—scrolls, goblets, and maps scattering across the stone. The sound was deafening, echoing through the hall like a storm breaking.The guards shifted uncomfortably, but San ignored them. He leaned heavily on the table, his head bowed as though trying to gather his thoughts.When he finally spoke, his voice was low and strained. “My queen,” he said, almost to himself, “was the only one who could wear this. It was bound to her.” You swallowed hard, unable to look away from him. “I don’t know why I have it,” you said softly. “I just… I’ve always had it.” San’s gaze snapped back to you, and for a moment, you thought you saw something in his eyes—recognition, perhaps, or even fear. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the cold, unyielding mask he wore so well.“Take her back to the dungeons,” he ordered, his voice like ice. The guards moved to seize you, but you resisted, desperation bubbling to the surface. “Wait! Please, you have to believe me—”

“Enough!” San’s voice thundered, the power behind it shaking the very air. “Take her.” The guards dragged you away, your protests falling on deaf ears. As the doors to the great hall slammed shut behind you, you couldn’t shake the image of San’s face—the way he had looked at you, as though you were a ghost from his past.

A few years ago

The medallion had always been there, as much a part of you as the blood in your veins. From the moment you drew your first breath, it had hung around your neck—a delicate green leaf with a pearlescent glow, suspended from a fine silver chain. No one had ever told you where it came from. No stories, no whispered truths. Just silence.

Because the truth was, no one knew.

You had no parents. At least, not the ones who gave you life.

The family who raised you—the kind, hardworking couple who had taken you in—had always been honest about that. They told you how they’d found you on a stormy night, abandoned on the edge of a cliff overlooking the restless sea. You were swaddled in soft, unfamiliar fabrics, cradled in a small wicker basket that was damp from the rain. The medallion was clasped around your tiny neck, its glow faint but unyielding, as if it were alive. It had been your father, a woodsman by trade, who had spotted you. He was out hunting for game when he heard your cries, faint and fragile against the roar of the wind. At first, he thought it was the wail of some forest creature, perhaps an injured fawn or a lost bird. But as he approached the cliff’s edge, he saw the basket. His heart stopped. “What kind of monster would leave a child out here?” he had whispered, his voice shaking. The storm had been unforgiving that night. Rain lashed at the rocky cliffs, and the sea churned below, its waves crashing with a violence that seemed determined to swallow the earth whole. If he had arrived even moments later, the wind might have swept the basket into the abyss. Your mother had wept when he brought you home. “She’s so beautiful,” she had said, her voice thick with emotion as she gently cradled your tiny form. “Who could leave her out there like that?” You were a mystery to them. A miracle, perhaps, or a tragedy they would never understand. But one thing was certain—they couldn’t turn their backs on you. “We’ll keep her,” your mother had said firmly, wiping her tears. “She’s ours now.” And so, you grew up in a small, humble home at the edge of the village, surrounded by love and warmth. Your adoptive parents treated you as their own, raising you with care and devotion. They taught you how to tend the garden, mend clothes, and read stories by the firelight. They were simple people, but their love for you was boundless. But the medallion was another story. It hung around your neck every day, an unspoken part of your existence. No one in the village could make sense of it. The local blacksmith once examined it, running his calloused fingers over the smooth, pearly surface of the leaf. “It’s no metal I’ve ever seen,” he had muttered, his brow furrowed. “And this shimmer… it’s not natural. Almost looks alive.” The village elders, who prided themselves on their knowledge of lore and legend, had no answers either. They spoke of old magic, ancient forests, and forgotten kingdoms, but none could explain how such an artifact had come to be with a child like you.

Your parents had little interest in the medallion’s origins. To them, it was just another part of you—something they loved because it was yours. But to you, it was a question that lingered in the back of your mind. Who had left you on that cliff? Why had they given you this strange, beautiful thing? And why, no matter how far you wandered or how many years passed, did the medallion seem to hum faintly against your skin, as if it were alive?

As you grew older, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the medallion was more than it seemed. You tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the simple joys of village life. Helping your parents in the fields. Watching the sunset from the hills. Listening to the crackle of the fire as your mother sang soft lullabies. But the medallion was always there, a silent companion. Sometimes, when you were alone, you would take it in your hands and marvel at its intricate design. The leaf was perfectly formed, each vein etched with delicate precision. Its green surface shimmered with an otherworldly glow, shifting between shades of emerald and pearl. You never dared to take it off. It wasn’t just because of its beauty or its mystery—it was because, deep down, you felt that it belonged to you in a way that nothing else ever could. As though it were a part of your very being. The villagers sometimes whispered about you, though never within earshot. They didn’t mean to be cruel—it was simply human nature. The child with no past. The girl who wore a medallion of magic. The one who had survived against all odds. “She’s special,” some would say.“Or cursed,” others would mutter. Your parents shielded you from the worst of the gossip, reminding you daily that you were loved. But the whispers followed you, a quiet shadow you could never escape. And now, as you sat alone in the cold darkness of the dungeon, the weight of those whispers pressed down on you. The medallion, which had always been a source of comfort, now felt heavier than ever. San’s words echoed in your mind. “This medallion belonged to my queen.” How could that be possible? You had worn it for as long as you could remember. You had no memory of his queen, no connection to his world. And yet, the look in his eyes when he saw it… It was as though he had seen a ghost. Your fingers brushed the medallion’s smooth surface, the faint hum of its magic resonating against your skin. It was warm to the touch, a strange contrast to the chill of the dungeon air.

In the great hall, San stood by his throne, his fists clenched at his sides. The medallion haunted him. He could still see it gleaming in the faint light, just as it had all those years ago when his queen had worn it. His queen. The one he had loved beyond reason. The one he had failed to save. He turned toward the table, his mind swirling with questions he couldn’t answer. Who was this mortal girl? Why did she bear the queen’s medallion? And why… why did she feel so familiar?San’s fingers trembled as he brushed the edge of the throne. He had spent centuries burying the past, locking away his grief and guilt in the deepest corners of his soul. Yet, with one look at her—at that medallion—everything had come rushing back. The storm outside mirrored the one within him, lightning flashing across the forest as rain pounded the palace. He closed his eyes, his jaw tightening. “I will find the truth,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “No matter what it takes.”

The throne room was steeped in shadow, its once-grand walls shrouded in an oppressive gloom that mirrored the heavy silence within. The shimmering light that once filled the halls of the forest palace was absent, as if even the magic of Luthënar had withdrawn. The air itself seemed heavy, thick with a sorrow that no amount of time could dispel. Choi San sat on his throne, his posture regal yet tense, his fingers curled around the armrests as though they were the only thing anchoring him. His features—carved sharp as if by the hands of a master sculptor—were thrown into relief by the faint glow of a single enchanted lantern. The play of light and shadow etched every emotion onto his face, though his expression remained unreadable to all but himself. He was alone, as he had been for what felt like an eternity. The throne room was empty save for him, and his thoughts were loud enough to drown out even the faint whispers of the palace’s magic. His gaze wasn’t fixed on the doors, the floor, or even the medallion that lay on the table beside him, but somewhere far away—on a memory. Memories of her. In his mind, she was vivid. The soft curl of her smile, the warmth in her voice, the way her laughter could fill even the coldest corners of his heart. His queen. His beloved. She had been everything to him, a light in a life that had grown increasingly dark. He remembered the way she would stand beside him at this very throne, her presence a calming force even amidst the pressures of ruling. She had been wise, compassionate, and stubborn in the way only someone who truly cared could be. He had loved her strength, her kindness, her fire.

The sound of footsteps broke through his reverie, echoing softly in the vastness of the throne room. San didn’t look up; he didn’t need to. There was only one person who would dare to intrude on his solitude unannounced. “Wooyoung,” San said, his voice low but commanding. From the shadows stepped a figure, his presence lighter but no less commanding than San’s. Wooyoung was a king in his own right, ruling a distant realm that thrived on its trade and opulence. He was as charming as he was dangerous, his sharp smile often masking his sharper wit. His long, raven-black hair was tied loosely at the nape of his neck, and his deep crimson robes shimmered faintly as he moved. “You didn't move on, I see...,” his voice carrying a teasing lilt as he approached the throne. “It’s been centuries, San." Wooyoung continued, casually placing a hand on the edge of the table beside San. His gaze dropped to the medallion. He sighed, pulling up a chair and sitting across from San, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” he said. “The past is the past, my friend. You need to let her go. San’s hand twitched against the armrest, the first sign of movement since Wooyoung’s arrival. “Let her go?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of it filled the room. “You speak as though it’s a choice.” San’s gaze finally rose, meeting Wooyoung’s. His eyes were dark, haunted. “She was my life,” he said simply. “How do you let go of that?” Wooyoung leaned back, his expression softening for the first time. “You don’t,” he admitted. “Not completely. But you can’t keep drowning in it, either. It’s been centuries, San. Do you even know who you are without her?"San’s gaze shifted back to the medallion. Its faint glow was hypnotic, pulling him into memories he’d spent lifetimes trying to forget. But it wasn’t just the past that haunted him now—it was the girl.The mortal who had appeared in his realm wearing this.“She’s connected to her,” San said finally, his voice rough. “The girl. I don’t know how, but she is.” Wooyoung arched a brow. “The one you’re keeping in the dungeons?” He let out a low whistle. “I heard rumors, but I didn’t think they were true. What do you mean she’s connected?” San’s lips pressed into a thin line. “She wears the medallion.” Wooyoung’s casual demeanor faltered. He straightened in his seat, his playful smirk replaced by genuine curiosity. “The medallion? Her medallion?” He nodded. “She says she doesn’t know where it came from. That she’s had it since birth.”, “And you believe her?” Wooyoung asked, his tone skeptical. San didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the medallion. “She has the same look in her eyes,” he said quietly. “The same fire. I don’t know if it’s a trick of fate or something worse, but I can’t ignore it.” Wooyoung frowned, tapping his fingers against the table. “You’re playing with fire, San. You know that, don’t you? If she’s truly tied to your queen, then the answers you’re looking for might not be the ones you want.” San’s eyes darkened. “I don’t care what the answers are. I need to know.”

When Wooyoung left, the throne room fell silent once more. San remained where he was, his eyes fixed on the medallion. The memory of her face lingered in his mind, as vivid as it had been the day he lost her. And somewhere, in the cold darkness of the dungeons, you sat alone, the medallion around your neck glowing faintly against your skin. San leaned back in his throne, closing his eyes as the weight of everything settled over him. The medallion, the girl, the past—it all pointed the one truth.

The night was quiet, almost too quiet. You woke with a start, unsure what had disturbed your restless sleep. As you looked toward the heavy iron door of your cell, your heart stopped. It was open. The faint glow of magic that usually sealed it was gone. The air was still, but there was a strange feeling in your chest—a sense that this was your chance. You didn’t know why the door was open or how it had happened, but you weren’t going to waste it. Slowly, you crept toward the doorway, your bare feet silent against the cold stone floor. The corridor was dark, the flickering torches along the walls barely lighting the way. You hesitated for a moment, listening for any sign of guards, but the silence was complete. Taking a deep breath, you moved forward. The palace halls were a maze, and you had no idea where you were going. All you knew was that you needed to get out. The night air hit you as you stepped through the large wooden doors at the end of the hall. You were outside. Free.

The forest stretched out before you, endless and dark. The trees were massive, their twisted branches blocking out the moonlight. Shadows danced between the trunks, and the air was thick with damp earth and decay. Every step you took was a gamble—roots jutted out from the ground, and the uneven forest floor threatened to trip you. Your breath came in gasps as you ran, clutching the medallion at your neck. You didn’t know where you were going; you only knew you had to keep moving. Then, the sound you feared the most broke through the silence: a horn. The guards had discovered your escape. The sound echoed through the forest, a low, haunting note that made your chest tighten. You pushed yourself harder, your legs burning as you stumbled through the undergrowth. In the distance, a small, crooked cabin came into view. It looked abandoned, its roof sagging and the wooden walls blackened with age. But it was better than nothing. You slipped inside, shutting the door behind you as quietly as you could. The cabin was cold and smelled of mildew. Dust coated every surface, and cobwebs hung from the ceiling. It was dark, the faint moonlight filtering in through cracks in the walls. You huddled in a corner, trying to catch your breath.

You were safe. For now.

The horn’s sound reached every corner of the palace, waking the guards and setting them into motion. They rushed through the halls, their armor clinking, until they reached the throne room. Choi San sat on his throne, his head bowed as he stared at the medallion in his hand. He had been holding it more and more often lately, unable to let it go. It was the last piece of her he had left. “My king,” a guard said, his voice shaking slightly. San didn’t look up. “What is it?”

“The girl,” the guard began nervously. “She’s escaped.” San froze, the medallion slipping from his fingers and landing on the floor with a soft clink. He lifted his head slowly, his sharp eyes fixing on the trembling guard. “What did you say?” His voice was quiet, but there was a deadly edge to it. “She’s gone, my lord,” the guard stammered. “We don’t know how. The dungeons were sealed, but she—”

“Enough,” San interrupted coldly, rising from his throne. Without another word, he strode toward the stables. The guards followed for a moment, unsure of what to do, until he raised a hand. “I will handle this myself,” he said firmly.

San’s horse was a massive black stallion, its coat gleaming like polished obsidian. The animal snorted, its breath clouding in the cool night air as its master approached. San mounted swiftly, his movements precise and controlled. He urged the horse forward, the forest swallowing them both. As the horse galloped through the dark woods, San’s mind was far from the present. His thoughts were filled with her—his queen. She had been his light, the one thing that made eternity bearable. Her laughter had warmed even the coldest corners of his heart, her touch grounding him in a way nothing else ever could. With her, the world had been full of color and life. Now, everything was dark. The palace, the forest, even his heart. He had tried to move on, to bury her memory deep, but it was impossible. The guilt, the loss, the weight of her absence—it consumed him. And now, this mortal girl, with her strange presence and the medallion, had brought it all back. “She’s connected to her,” he muttered to himself. San’s jaw tightened. He didn’t care about the risks. He needed answers.

The cabin was small and dimly lit, its wooden walls creaking softly as you leaned against them, trying to catch your breath. Your chest rose and fell as you gasped for air, your legs trembling from the mad sprint through the forest. Outside, the sound of horns echoed faintly, the guards’ warning carrying through the trees. You had escaped—for now—but the fear still gripped your chest like a vice. You thought you were alone. But then, out of nowhere, a voice startled you. "Who are you, my dear?" It was soft but sharp, the kind of voice that made you freeze in place. Your heart skipped a beat, and your wide eyes scanned the room. A figure stepped forward from the shadows in the corner of the cabin. It was an elderly woman, hunched slightly with age but somehow commanding. Her silver hair was wild and long, framing a face lined with time. Her dark, piercing eyes locked onto you, making you feel as though she could see every secret you didn’t even know you had. Her clothes were patched and old, layers of earthy tones that seemed to blend with the forest outside. "I—I didn’t know anyone was here," you stammered, your hand gripping the door behind you as if preparing to run again. The old woman’s eyes dropped to your chest, and her breath hitched. "That medallion..." she whispered, her voice shaky. "How do you have that?" Your hand instinctively touched the necklace that hung from your neck, the one you had always worn. The smooth surface of the green, pearl-like pendant felt strangely cold beneath your fingers. "I—I’ve always had it. It’s mine," you replied. The woman stepped closer, her hands trembling slightly as though she wanted to touch it but stopped herself. Her face was pale, her expression unreadable, but there was something in her eyes—shock, disbelief, maybe even fear. "You look just like her," she murmured, almost too softly for you to hear. "Like... who?" you asked, your voice shaking. Something about her gaze made your stomach churn. She gestured to a chair by the fireplace. "Sit. There is much you don’t know." You hesitated but eventually sat, too tired and too confused to argue. The old woman lowered herself into a creaky chair across from you, her movements slow, as though the weight of her words was already too much. "That medallion," she began, "is no ordinary piece of jewelry. It was made long ago, in the heart of the Forest of Luthënar, from the bark of the Eldertree. The Eldertree is a sacred tree—older than memory itself. Its wood glimmers like moonlight, and its sap is said to hold the power of life and death. This medallion... it was crafted using that sap, along with the dust of rare stones found only on the darkest nights. It is unlike anything else in this world." Her voice was steady, but her words left you reeling. You glanced at the medallion in your hands, its soft glow catching the faint light of the fire. It had always been a part of you, but you’d never thought it was anything more than a family heirloom—or at least, that’s what you’d told yourself. She continued, her voice heavy with meaning. "The one who wears that medallion is bound to a powerful fate. It carries the blessing—and curse—of rebirth. Whoever wears it... their soul will return again and again, until their purpose is fulfilled."

"Rebirth?" you echoed, shaking your head. "That’s impossible. I’ve had this medallion since I was a baby. I was found with it."

Her sharp eyes bore into yours. "Yes. You were found. Left on the edge of a cliff, I’d wager. You were not abandoned by chance, my dear. That medallion belongs to a queen—a queen who lived long ago, a queen who ruled with strength and love. A queen who died... far too soon." You blinked at her, your mind struggling to process what she was saying. "A queen? No, that can’t be true. I’m not a queen. I’m just... me."

"You are her," the woman said firmly, her voice shaking slightly. "You are his queen. The medallion ensured your soul would return, though you may not remember. You may not know who you were, but the soul never forgets. It always remembers." You stared at her, your hands tightening around the medallion as if it might slip away. The words felt impossible, and yet... a strange uneasiness stirred within you. A faint flicker of something—like a memory just out of reach—tugged at the edge of your mind. "But... if that’s true, why don’t I remember?" you asked weakly. "Because memories fade with each new life," she explained, her voice soft now. "The mind forgets, but the soul holds on. That is why he could not destroy you, no matter how much anger he felt. Somewhere in his heart, he knows who you are, though he does not yet understand." You shook your head, leaning back in the chair as your world seemed to spin. This was too much. Too strange. Too... impossible. "You’re wrong. He doesn’t care about me. He threw me in the dungeons. He—he hates me." The old woman’s face softened, her eyes heavy with sorrow. "He does not hate you, my dear. He hates himself—for failing you. For not protecting you in your first life. His heart is broken, shattered by grief. And now, seeing you again... it terrifies him. He cannot face the past. But he cannot turn away from you, either. That is why he is searching for you now." Her words sent a chill through you. "Searching... for me?" you whispered. The woman nodded grimly. "He will not rest until he finds you. He cannot. His soul is as bound to yours as yours is to his." As if on cue, the distant sound of hooves reached your ears, faint but growing louder. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at the door. The woman rose slowly, her gaze shifting to the window. "He’s here," she murmured. "You cannot run from him forever. The truth will follow you, no matter where you go."

The cabin door creaked as you stepped outside, the cold night air hitting your face like a warning. You didn’t dare look back. The old woman’s words still echoed in your mind, but you had no time to think about them. You ran, the medallion bouncing against your chest as your feet pounded against the forest floor. The woods were even darker now, the moon hidden behind thick clouds. The trees closed in around you, their twisted branches reaching out like claws. Sharp twigs scratched at your skin, and the uneven ground threatened to trip you with every step. You had no idea where you were going—only that you had to get away. And yet, no matter how fast you ran, you could feel it. Him. Choi San. His presence wasn’t just a shadow in your mind; it was something tangible, closing in like a storm. Then, the growl stopped you in your tracks. It came from somewhere in the darkness, low and guttural, sending a chill down your spine. Slowly, you turned toward the sound, your breath catching as your eyes adjusted to the gloom. A massive wolf stepped out of the shadows, but it wasn’t like any wolf you’d ever seen. Its fur was black, its body rippling with unnatural strength. But the most terrifying part was its three heads, each one snarling, each mouth lined with jagged, dripping teeth. Its glowing red eyes locked onto you, and all three heads tilted slightly, as though it were studying you. A low, menacing growl rumbled from its chest, vibrating through the ground beneath you. Your legs refused to move. Fear gripped you, freezing you in place as the creature came closer. The wolf growled louder, its heads snapping toward you in unison. Your heart raced, your mind screaming for you to run, but it was too late. The beast crouched, ready to pounce. Then, like a flash of lightning, something silver sliced through the air. A sword struck the wolf with deadly precision. In one clean motion, the blade severed all three heads from its body. The creature’s snarl turned into a wet, gurgling sound before it collapsed to the ground, lifeless. You stared, frozen in shock, as the three heads rolled away, their glowing red eyes dimming. The body hit the ground with a sickening thud, blood pooling around it. For a moment, the world was still. Then, the sound of boots crunching through the leaves snapped you out of your daze.You turned, your wide eyes meeting his. Choi San stood there, his sword still dripping with the creature’s blood. He looked like something out of a legend, his sharp features illuminated by the faint glow of the moon. His black cloak shifted in the breeze, and his amber eyes burned as they met yours. He took a step closer, his gaze sweeping over you. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something intense, searching. "You..." he said softly, his voice rough but steady. "It’s you." You backed away instinctively, your pulse racing. "I-I don’t know what you mean." San sheathed his sword with a swift, practiced motion and took another step forward. "You don’t understand, do you?" he asked, his voice low. "But now... now I see it."

"See what?" you asked, your voice trembling.

San’s eyes flicked to the medallion around your neck. His expression shifted—confusion, pain, and something else you couldn’t name flashed across his face. "That medallion," he said, his tone almost accusing. "It belonged to her. To my queen." You instinctively clutched the medallion, shaking your head. "I’m not her," you said firmly, though your voice wavered. "I don’t know what you think I am, but I’m not—"

"You are," he interrupted, his voice steady but filled with emotion. He looked at you like you were a ghost, someone he thought he would never see again. "I didn’t want to see it before. I couldn’t. But it’s you. You’re her." You stared at him, your mind spinning. The old woman’s words echoed in your mind: You were his queen. Reborn. "No," you whispered, shaking your head. "You’re wrong. I’m not—"

"I know what I see. You have her face, her soul. That medallion... It wouldn’t be with you unless-" He stopped, his hands curling into fists at his sides as if he couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought. Tears pricked your eyes. "I don’t know what you want from me," you said, your voice breaking. "I don’t know anything about a queen or a past life. I’m just me." San exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. He looked at you with a mix of frustration and anguish, like someone fighting a battle within himself. "You don’t remember," he said softly, almost to himself. "Of course you don’t." His words made your chest tighten. You wanted to argue, to deny everything, but deep down, something about his gaze, his voice, made you hesitate. San took one last step toward you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. "Whether you remember or not," he said, his voice low, "you’re here. And you’re mine." The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you weren’t sure if it was fear, anger, or something else entirely. "I don’t belong to anyone," you managed to say, your voice trembling but defiant. San’s lips curved into a faint, bitter smile. "You always said that," he murmured, almost fondly. San moved closer, his steps slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking prey.

You instinctively backed away, your heart racing in your chest, but it was no use. The rough bark of a tree pressed into your back, halting your retreat. You were trapped. His imposing figure loomed over you, his broad shoulders blocking out the faint light of the moon. The cool night air felt suffocating as his amber eyes locked onto yours, piercing through every layer of your resolve. For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension between you thick and electric. San’s gaze flickered, his eyes traveling from yours to the medallion hanging around your neck. Then, slowly, they dropped lower, tracing the line of your jaw, lingering on your lips.He licked his lips, his hand moved upward, brushing against the medallion with a featherlight touch. The cool metal shifted against your skin, and his fingers followed, grazing your collarbone. "You still don’t understand, do you?" he murmured, his voice low and rough, the sound of it sending a shiver down your spine. "I..." You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. His presence was overwhelming, and your mind was a storm of confusion and unease. San leaned in, his face so close now that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. His eyes searched yours, as though trying to find answers you couldn’t give him. His free hand slid to your waist, his fingers pressing firmly but not harshly, grounding you to the moment. "Even if you don’t remember," he said, his voice softer now but no less intense, "your soul does. I can feel it." You stood frozen, your back pressed firmly against the tree. Your breath came in shallow gasps, your chest rising and falling with every labored inhale. His words left you shaken, but it wasn’t just what he said—it was the way he looked at you, like you were something precious and fragile, yet completely untouchable. He leaned in further, the space between you vanishing until his body was almost flush against yours. His hand on your waist tightened slightly, and you felt the strength in his grip—not rough, but possessive, as though he were afraid you might disappear if he let go. Your mind screamed at you to push him away, to break free, but your body refused to move. It wasn’t fear that rooted you in place; it was something far stranger. His presence, his touch, the raw intensity in his eyes—it all held you captive. "You’re afraid of me," San said quietly, his lips so close to your ear that the words sent a ripple of heat down your neck. "But you don’t have to be." Your heart thudded painfully in your chest, your thoughts a jumbled mess of defiance and confusion. "I’m not afraid," you whispered, though even you didn’t believe it. His lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "Then why are you trembling?" You didn’t have an answer. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, but you couldn’t summon the strength to push him away. Instead, you looked up at him, your wide eyes meeting his, and for a brief moment, the world around you seemed to fade. San's hand remained firm on your waist, his fingers pressing into the fabric of your tunic, grounding you as the world seemed to tilt around you. His piercing gaze remained locked on yours, flickering with emotions you couldn’t name. It was as if he were searching for something—some hidden truth, some unspoken connection. His face was close now, so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips, steady and measured, yet carrying an intensity that made your heart race. Your back pressed harder against the rough bark of the tree as he leaned in, his presence overwhelming but strangely magnetic. "You don’t even realize it, do you?" he murmured, his voice a soft rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. "Realize what?" you whispered, your voice trembling. "That you’ve always been mine."

The words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable, as if they carried the weight of lifetimes. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your breath mingling with his as he drew even closer. His eyes lingered on your lips, and you felt the moment stretch, a taut thread about to snap. And then, it did. San’s lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, as if testing the waters. The touch was featherlight, sending a jolt of warmth through your entire body. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. But he didn’t stop there. The hesitation melted away as he deepened the kiss, his hand sliding from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you closer. His other hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. The kiss was slow yet filled with an intensity that made your knees weak, a mixture of longing and something deeper—something neither of you could name. You didn’t know why you didn’t push him away. Every rational thought told you to, but your body refused to obey. Instead, you found yourself leaning into him, your hands instinctively gripping the front of his cloak for balance. When he finally pulled back, just enough to look at you, his breathing was uneven, his eyes searching yours with a vulnerability you hadn’t expected. "Why don’t you stop me?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. You swallowed hard, your lips tingling from the kiss, your mind spinning. "I... I don’t know," you admitted, the words trembling as they left your mouth. San’s gaze softened, but his intensity didn’t waver. "You may not remember me," he said, his thumb brushing your cheek again, "but I’ll make you remember." His words sent another shiver through you, and you realized with a pang of confusion that you weren’t sure whether you wanted to run or let him consume you entirely.

San’s hand remained steady on your waist as his other brushed against your cheek, his amber eyes pulling you into their depths. His gaze softened, and for the first time, there was something almost tender in his expression, though it was tinged with hesitation. “Close your eyes,” he said quietly, his voice low but commanding. You hesitated, your breath catching in your chest. “Why?” He tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a faint, almost bittersweet smile. “Just trust me. Close your eyes.” Something about the way he said it left no room for argument. Slowly, you let your eyelids flutter shut, the tension in your shoulders still refusing to leave. You felt the faint warmth of his hand against your skin, grounding you, and the low hum of the medallion against your chest seemed to grow stronger.“Now open them,” he whispered, his voice brushing against your senses like a breeze. When you did, the world around you was transformed.

The dark, tangled woods were gone, replaced by a vibrant, sunlit forest. The trees stood tall and proud, their trunks wrapped in soft moss, and the air smelled of wildflowers and fresh rain. Birds chirped overhead, their songs mingling with the laughter of children. In the distance, you saw them—small, carefree figures running and playing among the trees, their joy infectious. The world here was alive in a way you had never seen before, every corner of it glowing with a warmth that made your chest ache. You turned to San, your eyes wide with awe. “What... what is this?”. “This,” he said, gesturing to the beauty around you, “is what it used to be. The forest before it was tainted by loss. Before... everything changed.” You couldn’t find the words to respond. It was breathtaking, magical, and yet there was a strange sense of familiarity in it all, like a distant memory stirring in the back of your mind. San reached for your hand, his touch firm but careful, and began leading you down a soft, well-worn path through the trees. You didn’t resist, too captivated by the scene unfolding before you. The laughter of children faded as you walked, replaced by a stillness that made your heart ache. The trees grew taller, their branches arching over the path like a natural cathedral. And then, through the gaps in the trees, you saw them.

There, standing in a sunlit clearing, was... you.

You gasped softly, your grip tightening on San’s hand as you took in the sight. The version of you from the past was radiant, dressed in a grand crimson gown that shimmered like liquid fire in the sunlight. The bodice hugged your form perfectly, while the skirt flared out in soft, sweeping folds, its intricate embroidery glinting faintly. Around your neck hung the medallion, its glow unmistakable even from a distance. You stood next to him—San. Or rather, the San of that time. He was dressed in dark armor, elegant yet strong, with intricate designs etched into the metal. His expression was softer than the San you knew now, his lips curved in a rare smile as he gazed at you. You both looked... perfect. A king and queen. Your throat tightened as you watched. “Is this...?”

"This is who we were", San said, his voice quiet, almost reverent. The memory played out before you like a dream. The two of you were speaking softly, though you couldn’t hear the words. San reached out, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from the past you’s face, his touch filled with a tenderness that made your chest ache. But the peace didn’t last. The skies darkened, and the sound of distant horns broke the stillness. Shadows moved through the trees—soldiers, weapons drawn, marching toward the clearing. The air was heavy with the tension of an impending battle. You saw yourself arguing with San, your face set with determination, his with frustration. “You can’t fight,” the past San said sharply, his voice firm but desperate. “I won’t hide while my people suffer!” the past you shot back, her voice ringing with defiance. San grabbed your arm, his grip firm. “You are my queen. You’re meant to lead, not die on a battlefield!”

“And you’re my king,” you replied, your tone softer now but no less resolute. “If you’re fighting, then so am I.” The memory blurred as the battle began. Swords clashed, shouts filled the air, and the forest was soon alight with chaos. You could only watch as the scene unfolded, your past self moving through the battlefield with grace and courage, the medallion glowing faintly as if feeding off your resolve. Then, the focus shifted. You followed San as he was drawn away from the main battle, his opponents forcing him deeper into the forest. Their swords clashed, the sound sharp and violent, until he finally struck them down one by one. But you didn’t know that. The past you, frantic and desperate, ran after him, your gown torn and dirtied from the fight. You called his name, your voice trembling with worry, but the forest seemed to swallow the sound. When you finally stumbled into a small clearing, it was empty. Or so you thought. A figure stepped out of the shadows. You couldn’t make out their face, only the glint of the blade in their hand. You backed away, clutching at the medallion as if it could save you, but it was too late. The blade pierced your chest, cold and unyielding, and your breath left you in a ragged gasp. You fell to your knees, blood pooling beneath you, staining the earth red. You tried to speak, to cry out, but no sound came. And then, through the haze of pain, you saw him. San. His sword slipped from his hand as he stumbled forward, his face pale with horror. “No...” His voice broke, raw and filled with anguish. “What have I done?” You stared at him, confusion and betrayal etched into your features as you tried to understand. It was his blade. His hand. The person you trusted most had ended your life.The last thing you saw was his face—haunted, broken—as the world faded to black.

You gasped as your eyes flew open, your chest heaving as if the blade had struck you again. The forest of the past was gone, replaced by the cold, dark woods of the present. San stood before you, his face pale, his expression unreadable."You..." you choked out, your hand instinctively clutching the medallion. "You killed me." His jaw tightened, his eyes filled with something between guilt and desperation. "I didn’t mean to. You have to believe me—I never meant to hurt you." Tears burned in your eyes as you took a shaky step back. "How could you? I trusted you. I... I loved you."

"And I loved you," San said, his voice breaking. "More than anything. That’s why it destroyed me when I saw what I had done. Why I’ve spent centuries trying to atone for it. Why I couldn’t let you go." You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. "You don’t get to decide my fate," you whispered. "Not then. Not now." San reached for you, his expression pleading. "Please, let me explain—" But you didn’t let him finish. You turned and ran, the forest swallowing you once again as the weight of the truth threatened to crush you. The forest seemed endless, its twisted shadows reaching for you like hands trying to drag you back. You didn’t care where your feet were taking you—you just needed to escape. His voice, his eyes, the memories of what he had done... it was all too much. Branches scratched at your arms, roots threatened to trip you, but you didn’t stop. Your legs burned, your chest ached, and yet you pushed forward. But then, out of nowhere, he was there. San stepped out of the shadows ahead of you, his tall frame bathed in faint moonlight. Your breath catching as you stared at him, frozen. His chest rose and fell quickly, his breathing ragged, and his dark hair fell loosely over his forehead, damp with sweat. His shirt hung open at the collar, revealing the faint sheen of his skin, the lines of his chest rising and falling with each unsteady breath. The way the moonlight hit his sharp features made him look impossibly beautiful, almost unreal, but the intensity in his amber eyes grounded you in the moment. “Don’t,” he said, his voice raw and desperate. “Don’t run from me.” Your throat tightened, and you instinctively took a step back, your body trembling. “How did you—” The words barely left your lips before they faltered. San didn’t answer, but his gaze burned into yours with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. His lips were slightly parted, his jaw clenched, and there was something in his expression—something between anguish and longing—that sent a shiver through you. You took another step back, then another, until your back hit the rough bark of a tree. The impact made you gasp, and you realized, too late, that there was nowhere left to go. San moved closer, his steps slow but deliberate, like he was giving you a chance to stop him—but you didn’t. You couldn’t. His broad shoulders seemed to block out the forest around you, his presence commanding every part of your attention. “I told you not to run,” he murmured, his voice strained, his eyes flicking down to the medallion around your neck before returning to your face. He lifted a hand, bracing it against the tree beside your head, trapping you without touching you. "Why can’t you just leave me alone?" you whispered, your voice trembling, though you didn’t know if it was from fear or something else entirely. San exhaled sharply, his free hand running through his messy hair, his frustration clear. “Because I can’t,” he said, his voice low and uneven. He leaned in slightly, the space between you growing smaller with every word. “Don’t you see? I can’t stop—I can’t stop being in love with you.” Your breath hitched, and your heart felt like it had stopped. His words hung in the air, heavy and raw, like they had been torn from the depths of his soul. “Even after all this time,” he continued, his voice soft but filled with a desperate edge, “even after everything I’ve done, I can’t stop. You’re in my blood, in my soul. You’re... you’re everything.” Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as his words crashed over you. “You don’t mean that,” you said weakly, your voice breaking. “You can’t mean that.” San’s hand moved, his fingers brushing your cheek so gently it sent a shiver down your spine. His touch was warm, grounding, but it only made your emotions swirl more chaotically. ���You don’t believe me?” he asked, his eyes searching yours. His breathing was uneven, his chest rising and falling just inches from you. “Then tell me to leave. Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel it too. Tell me, and I’ll go.”

Your breath trembled as you stared at him, his amber eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made it impossible to think straight. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his body inches from yours, yet he didn’t move any closer. He was giving you a choice. "You want to know what I want to tell you?" you whispered, your voice shaking as you fought the storm of emotions swirling in your chest. San didn’t speak, his lips parting slightly as he searched your face. His silence was answer enough. He was waiting, bracing himself for the words that might finally break him. Your heart thundered as you stepped forward, closing the small distance between you. His eyes widened slightly at your movement, his breath catching as your face came closer to his. “I want to tell you this,” you whispered. Before he could react, your hands reached up, gripping the edges of his cloak, and you pulled him down to you. Your lips crashed against his in a kiss so desperate, so consuming, that it left no room for hesitation. San froze for a heartbeat, as though he couldn’t believe what was happening, but then he melted into you. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he deepened the kiss with a hunger that sent heat rushing through your entire body. Your fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, clutching him as if you were afraid he might disappear. The world around you seemed to blur, the forest and its shadows fading into nothing as his warmth surrounded you. The kiss was fierce, filled with longing and pain and something else—something that felt like hope. San’s hand moved to cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek as his lips moved against yours. He kissed you like you were the only thing that had ever mattered, like he was pouring centuries of heartbreak and love into this one moment. His breathing was still ragged, but now it was from the sheer intensity of it all. When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathless. His amber eyes searched yours, his expression torn between disbelief and something deeper—something that made your chest tighten. "You..." he started, his voice hoarse, his grip on your waist tightening as though he feared you might slip away. "Why—"

"Because I couldn’t lie to you," you interrupted, your voice still trembling. "No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you to go. I couldn’t stop myself. I can’t." San closed his eyes briefly, his hand tightening against your waist as his other stayed cradling your face. "You don’t know what you’re doing to me," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. "Maybe I do," you replied softly, your lips still tingling from the kiss.

San’s breath was uneven as he held you close, his forehead still resting against yours. The space between you had vanished, replaced by something undeniable, something neither of you could fight anymore. Then, his lips brushed against your jaw. Your breath hitched, your fingers curling against the fabric of his cloak as warmth spread through your body. “San...” you whispered, unsure if it was meant to stop him or urge him on. He didn’t respond with words, only with actions. His mouth moved lower, trailing kisses along the curve of your jaw before reaching the delicate skin of your neck. His lips fit there so perfectly, as if they had been meant for this. A shiver ran through you as he lingered, his hands tightening their hold on you as if anchoring himself. Each kiss was careful, like he was relearning something he had once known by heart. His nose brushed against your skin as he exhaled softly, the warmth of his breath sending a rush of sensation down your spine. “You taste the same,” he murmured against your throat, his voice low and laced with something dangerously close to need. You swallowed hard, tilting your head instinctively as his lips moved lower. Your mind was spinning, every nerve in your body awake under his touch. “San...” you tried again, your fingers gripping his shoulders. “We shouldn’t—” He pulled back just enough to look at you, his amber eyes dark and unreadable. "Then tell me to stop," he challenged softly. You opened your mouth, but the words never came. You couldn't say it. San's lips curled into a knowing smirk, his fingers reaching for the fabric draped around your shoulders—a soft, flowing cloak lined with delicate silver embroidery. With one slow, deliberate motion, he pushed it off, the fabric slipping from your body and pooling at your feet. The cool night air kissed your skin, but it was nothing compared to the warmth of him, of his hands sliding gently over your arms."You’re beautiful," he murmured, his gaze drinking you in as though committing the sight to memory. You shivered, though not from the cold. His lips found your neck again, this time pressing deeper, lingering longer. He kissed and nipped gently, his touch slow and teasing. Your breath came in soft gasps as he traveled lower, his lips brushing just above the lace of your bra, his fingers ghosting over your waist. Your hands found his hair, threading through the soft strands as you fought to stay silent. But when his lips pressed just above your collarbone, a quiet, shaky breath escaped you.

San's mouth paused, his lips still touching your skin, as he waited for your reaction. The sound of your shaky breath was like a spark to dry kindling, igniting a fire within him. His hands, already warm on your skin, seemed to burn with an inner heat as he slid them up your back, his fingers tracing the delicate lace of your bra. The touch sent shivers down your spine, and you felt your nipples harden in response, straining against the fabric that confined them. His lips, still pressed against your collarbone, curved into a gentle smile, as if he knew the effect he was having on you. And then, with a slowness that was almost torturous, he began to kiss his way down, his mouth tracing the curve of your breast, his tongue darting out to tease the lace that covered your nipple. Your hands, still threaded through his hair, tightened, pulling him closer as you arched your back, offering yourself to him. The night air was cool around you, but you felt only heat, only the burning desire that seemed to emanate from San's very pores. His fingers found the clasp of your bra, and with a deft touch, he released it, the lace sliding away from your skin like a whispered promise. Your breasts, freed from their confinement, seemed to swell, the nipples hardening further as San's mouth closed around one, his tongue swirling in a maddening rhythm. You felt your breath catch, your body arching further, as he sucked, his lips pulling gently, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. And when he finally released you, his eyes locked onto yours, burning with a fierce inner fire, his voice low and husky as he whispered, "I've missed this, missed you, missed the way you respond to me" As San's eyes held yours, his hands began to move, the fingers that had so deftly undone your bra now working to release the buttons of his pants. The sound of the zipper lowering was like a promise, a hint of the pleasure that was to come. His eyes never left yours, his gaze burning with an intensity that seemed to sear itself into your very soul. The pants, once undone, slid down his hips, revealing the hard, muscular thighs that had been hidden beneath. And then, his hands moved to his underwear, the last barrier between you and the desire that had been building for so long. The fabric slid down, and San's erection sprang free, hard and proud, the head glistening with precum that seemed to bring you closer. Your breath caught, your heart racing with anticipation, as San's hands moved to your hips, the fabric was pushed up, bunched around your waist, and then his hands were on your thighs, his fingers tracing the curve of your legs before moving to the lace of your panties. The touch was like a spark, igniting a fire that seemed to burn away all reason, all thought, leaving only the desire that had been building between you for so long. "I want you," San whispered, his voice low and husky, his eyes burning with a fierce inner fire. "I want to be inside you, to feel you around me, to make you mine."

His hands grasp your hips, his erection pressing against your inner thighs. You feel the tip of his cock teasing your entrance, sending a rush of anticipation through your body. With a gentle thrust, he slides inside you, filling you completely. The sensation is almost overwhelming, his length stretching you to your limits. Your muscles clench around him, holding him tight as he begins to move, his strokes slow and deliberate at first, then growing faster and more intense. The friction builds, a burning heat that spreads through your core, threatening to consume you. His breath is hot against your skin, his lips tracing the curve of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. One hand remains on your hip, holding you in place, while the other reaches down to find your clit. His thumb brushes against the sensitive nub, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. He begins to rub your clit in slow, gentle circles, the pressure building as he continues to move inside you. The combination of his cock sliding in and out of you and his thumb teasing your clit is almost too much to bear. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel yourself being pushed closer to the edge. His thumb moves faster, the circles tightening as he senses your impending climax. The sensation is intense, your body coiling tighter and tighter until you're not sure how much more you can take. 

The forest was quiet now, the air thick with the scent of earth and the lingering warmth of your bodies. The only sounds were your soft, uneven breaths, still tangled together in the aftermath of what had just happened. San held you close, his arms wrapped securely around you as if afraid you might disappear. His skin was warm against yours, his chest rising and falling in time with your own. The rough bark of the tree pressed against your back, but you hardly noticed. The only thing you could focus on was him—his touch, his presence, the way his fingers traced gentle patterns along your spine.He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. His amber gaze was softer now, no longer filled with the tension and desperation from before. Instead, there was something deeper—something that made your breath catch. His hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing delicately over your cheek. His lips curved into the faintest of smiles before he leaned in, kissing you again—slow, unhurried, savoring the moment. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I love you, my queen.” The words settled over you like a warm embrace, wrapping around your heart and holding it tight. You smiled, your fingers threading through his dark hair as you whispered back, “And I love you, my king.”

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Most of the takes I’ve seen about Caitlyn’s Jinx-hunting strike team and their bit of light chemical warfare tend to focus on either justifying or condemning Caitlyn’s actions as if the characters are on some kind of morality points leaderboard, which makes even less sense than usual in the Everybody Does Terrible Things show. Litigating whether Caitlyn did a limited police action intended to minimize harm or a war crime is not only kind of pointless, but imo not really the intended function of this story element at all.

The point of this story element in the overall arc of S2 is that you can’t expect to do just a little bit of state violence and then stop. It’s the beginning of Caitlyn’s slide into her dictator era—using her power both as an enforcer and as a Kiramman to get the revenge she has fixated on in her grief.

(A lot of discussion of this sequence of events slides right over what to me is by far the most horrifying detail—which is that it seems like the plans for a major public works project in Zaun are proprietary to one single rich family in Piltover. Why? Because the Council couldn’t care less whether people in the Undercity were dying of Fantasy Pollution Consumption. Which left any mitigation up to the benevolence of private charity from wealthy Piltover families. And as we learn very early on by watching how Jayce is treated, Kiramman charity comes with conditions attached, and can be indistinguishable from control.)

Of course Caitlyn sees her plan as the lesser evil; as a limited and proportionate response that will be less destructive than a full police occupation of the Undercity. But the problem with a limited and proportionate response intended to only target Bad Guys is that it rarely stays that way. Because people will react to repression in ways that are often used to justify more repression.

And we see that it is a VERY short slide from the strike team into tactics that do broadly target civilians for things that in our world we would call protected political speech—things like dyeing your hair a symbolic color or standing around in a square listening to someone give a speech. We go from the strike team to checkpoints, mass arrests, and violent interrogations in like. One episode. Which anyone familiar with the dynamics of state violence in the real world could tell you was exactly what was gonna fucking happen.

(The scene with the cops harassing people at the checkpoint into Piltover is very sharp imo because it shows quite accurately that whatever the stated purpose of a police checkpoint is, the actual effect of a checkpoint is to force interactions between civilians and police, and if police are looking for reasons to target people they will find them.)

So on one level, this storyline is not really about Caitlyn’s personal moral compass at all. It’s about how the logic of state violence tends to drive escalating cycles of conflict.

But also…we’re not supposed to just be okay with a bit of light chemical warfare either! I think the show is pretty unambiguous about that! The whole sequence with Caitlyn’s strike team using the Gray is supposed to be a warning that things are going nowhere good! There’s a reason why the scene in the abandoned arcade, where Jinx learns Vi has become an enforcer, is set up to mirror the scene of child Powder and Vi hiding from enforcers in the same location in S1. We are shown that scene from Jinx’s POV in a way that invites us to sympathize with her. Caitlyn and Vi look like monsters, stalking through the fog in their enforcer gas masks, because they are doing something monstrous.

[hergan416]

@user-needs-new-hyperfixation Thank you for the tag!

Also I'm glad you answered this at the same time you tagged me, because reading your responses literally helped me understand what the heck kind of media this didn't exclude.

Rare writer ask game: name three pieces of media that are not novels/short stories or movies/TV that were formative for you, and tag three people.

Like you, I really don't consider this "formative" to my writing but to my sense of "self."

Anyway:

This is maybe a cheat? Because I still read it? But The Importance of Being Earnest. I really hope that a play is separate enough from TV/movies & novels/short stories to count for this because it really does seem adjacent, and like I'm being overly technical about it but ANYWAY. The unit on this play and on Oscar WIlde generally was like - I dunno. It was a lot of things to me.

So for one, The Importance of Being Earnest is absolutely hilarious, and I genuinely enjoyed reading it. For two, even though a lot of WIlde's statements about writing as a craft were made in relation to The Picture of Dorian Gray, our unit on this book also talked about his attitude in regards to literature and morality and art and aestheticism pretty extensively - I think because this specific literature teacher is awesome, but also because he was arrested during a showing of this play? But all of THAT was also formative. (I could also probably put Billy Joel's Only The Good Die Young here for the same reason - I tied the two together in my mind so if this play can't be it, then that can take over. But the play also was formative when I was trying to get myself back into reading stuff because I no longer read the kind of... "genre" stuff that I read as a kid/teen and I was trying to come up with something I'd actually want to read, and came back to Oscar Wilde like "hey you made me happy before... what's your other writing like?" I was not ... really. expecting. The Picture of Dorian Gray to be Like That the first time - what a tone shift! But that ALSO was formative much later and this is why that showed up for me when it did so.

Next I guess I'll just say "Green Day" - like all of Green Day. At least their discography up through 2009. Like - I already agreed with them, so I guess they didn't really change my mind or influence me much in that sense. But the Green Day obsession was certainly a personality trait for a while. And like - I still jam with King for A Day or Holiday or St. Jimmy or whatever. The characters on American Idiot absolutely made it into some of my fanfiction at the time. It was a major piece of my life.

And I'll end with Arkham Horror: The Board Game (1st/2nd edition) This game was something I was introduced to in college and I had never played anything like it. It is cooperative (games can be won by all the players at once!?! totally foreign to college-aged me) and long and complicated. It took several sessions of playing it before the owner of the game taught me how to set it up even. It's one of those. And without it, I don't think that I'd be who I am today. We also played D&D and Munchkin and Killer Bunnies and some zombie RPG where I played a prostitute and Catan and Axis and Allies and Starcraft The Boardgame... and so I probably would have ended up this brand of nerd either way. But this brand of nerd is horribly central to my world.

I work in a board game store. And this is the first job I've had that doesn't make me feel like killing myself. It's a lot of work, but at the end of the day I'm in the business of having fun. I get to sell people a good time. We're not so corporate that we have no lenience, but it's structured enough that I still thrive. The kind of people I met playing those games in college are why I shopped at this store and how I got this job the first time - and my personality is absolutely affected by this.

Uhhh ok yeah I talked a while here. Let's tag... @sakuplumeria @vitya-nikiforova and @dragontamer05?

[bewaretheidesofmarchyall]

18, 34 and 48 for the qsmp ask game :D

18. Favorite side character/non island residents (This does not include eggs)

Oooo I have to go with Elena on this one. I love a good morally gray scientist, and the recent revelations about her backstory are very Repo: The Genetic Opera.

(Were it not for my lack of drawing abilities and complicated compelling art, artist probably a creep feelings about Repo I would love to make a short animatic of her with part of one of Nathan's songs from that opera)

But if we're allowed to include the Purgatory 2 cast members under a very stretched definition of "non-island residents", my answer changes: Condifiction. 100%. Would be incredible if he could be added to the main cast one day.

34. Free space to talk about anything QSMP related :D

can i talk about qQuackity's tormentous nightmare i want to talk about qQuackity's tormentous nightmare

(by which i mean that time he had a near death experience, toured a Hell of his own making, and then was the first guy on the server to get resurrected during the story [always a landmark in this kinds of stories])

like my thoughts are a bit scattered but. oh my god. it is so rare that we get a direct window into a character's head, and when we do i pounce on his like a starving tiger presented with a meat pumpkin

His hell nightmare version of Tilín telling him he doesn't deserve heaven

The way that he fails every test (doesn't earn Tilín's forgiveness, neglects Richas like he feared he was doing in life, can't make himself let go of the idealized and imagined life he could have as Tallulah's stepfather and probably as Tallulah's father's husband [choosing artifice over the inevitable way he'll ruin something real])

and it's unclear how much of that is him genuinely failing, Oscurucho setting him up to fail to torment him, or his dying mind just deciding failing is what he does, proving to him that he really does deserve Hell

And yeah, I'm reading into it all, sue me. I'm enriched.

SPEAKING OF READING INTO IT, something about qRoier's absence in these streams has possessed me. Because I spent all of the streams just like. Roier today? Vision of Roier in qQuackity's Hell today please? Please he could absolutely kill the role of a guy's dying brain demons. But no. No dice. No Roier :[

Which I then immediately started reading into ASJSJSJ because when only one character in a pattern is missing, that starts seeming notable. And every single one of qQuackity's list of loved ones appears in his tormentous nightmare. except Roier

That's weird, right? He's the only person qQ can't see being in Hell. /probably not the intention but feasible interpretation

Which kind of makes sense? Roier's succeeded at so many points that qQ's failed. Finding love. Walking down the isle. Being a good parent to his own son. Being a better parent to Quackity's kid than Quackity. And then, when Bobby started losing lives, it was never neglect, it was a code attack and an adventure gone wrong. And then, when Bobby was dead for good, Roier didn't go around trying to steal other people's children and threatening murder and any of the various bullshit Quackity did when Tilín died. That fucker grieved better than him.

(obviously this is all just qquackity's knowledge of roier- god knows roier's really had his more morally dubious and heartbreaking moments)

But anyway. The one time Roier appears in Quackity's vision of Hell, he's just text messages in the QSMP server chat. He's not only not shown in Hell, he's not in Hell. He's alive, he's on the island.

And Quackity tries to send messages to him, ask him for help, and they don't go through. He can't do a thing for him, and it's not even his fault. He just doesn't know what's happening in Hell. He's a whole fucking plane of existence above Quackity, thriving and living and unreachable.

dammit i switched into writer mode. anyway, this is my overanalysis of whatever qQuackity's deal is with qRoier

TLDR: I love katabases so so much I think every character should have to take a quick tour of their personal Hell sometime

48. Has the QSMP inspired you to learn new languages? If so, which ones and what have you done to do that so far?

It's definitely inspired me to want to learn new languages- I want to learn Portuguese and French and Spanish and Korean and and and- but I haven't been able to make much progress aside from a frequently broken duolingo streak in Portuguese and then taking Spanish classes. AP classes are kicking my ass right now, but I hope to do more language practice during the summer.

[denimbex1986]

'The book series surrounding the life and crimes of Tom Ripley has captivated audiences since its introduction. That doesn’t mean adaptations have become overdone; in fact it is rare that we get to really dive into the mind of Tom. Then came Netflix’s Ripley, and it is captivating to watch.

Starring Andrew Scott as Tom Ripley, the series has a lot of the same beats as the 1999 film The Talented Mr. Ripley, while cutting out questions of Tom’s sexuality almost entirely. Ripley’s main goal seems to be highlighting the beauty of an Italian setting and the debauchery that lives in Ripley’s actions against those closest to him.

Tom still goes through the same beats we know well. He goes to Italy to connect with Dickie Greenleaf (Johnny Flynn) after Dickie’s father pays for Tom to get there. Already lying about his connection to Dickie to get close to him, Tom’s manipulations just take him further and further into this mess he’s created, but where the series stands apart from the previous adaptation is how Scott approaches Tom’s relationships to everyone.

They are all superficial. There is not a single relationship throughout this series that I think means anything to Tom outside of what he can gain from them. Even his relationship with Dickie is fully because he wants to take from him, and when Marge (Dakota Fanning) begins to point this out to Dickie, Tom has to figure out a way to continue using Dickie for his benefit.

The actions of Tom Ripley are contrasted by the black and white aesthetic choice of the series. Tom’s actions do not exist in the gray area of morality at all. It is black and white that he is in the wrong and everyone else is not. But it goes deeper than that.

Beautiful to look at, yet hard to come to terms with Tom’s actions

As is the case with The Talented Mr. Ripley and the book series that inspired our fascination with the titular character, the series does not shy away from how dark Tom Ripley truly is. He is a man who is not afraid of harming others if it means keeping up this façade he’s created for himself, and Scott really plays Tom in an almost completely cold way that makes those actions even more haunting to the audience.

Even in his relationship to Dickie, you can see Tom’s wheels turning to make sure that his wellbeing and his status while in Italy are not in jeopardy. Tom Ripley is a character who cares not about people who may care about him but whether or not he’s going to be able to keep up this persona he’s put on for the world.

Maybe it is Scott’s past work as a master manipulator, like Moriarty in Sherlock, or just how he can approach a character who doesn’t have an ounce of regret, but there is something about him as Tom Ripley that just keeps its hooks in you.

After a while, Tom’s actions should feel exhausting, but you can see in Scott’s performance that he is a man desperate to find where he belongs and is going about it in a way that is horrible to anyone who crosses his path. Ripley made me want more of the adventures of this man; there are five books in total to pull from, so why not?

It is beautiful, twisted, and exactly what I wanted for another look into Tom Ripley, the most talented con man of all.'

[secrets-of-ty]

More Fics below!

💙🟢 Autonomy and Worse Things by faedemon

"In a moment of stress, Danny develops a new power, one far too electrically reminiscent of his death. With it, he can play puppeteer: when he speaks, people will listen, and they'll have thought all along the idea was their own. It's a terrifying power—and when Danny fails to control it, his friendships are left shattered in its wake.

A narrative that explores this new ability, everything else it dredges up, and makes halting steps towards a ghostly coming-of-age."

Electric Core AU! I found this one on Tumblr due to some great art and was instantly engrossed in the story! It's got a great plot that explores Danny handling a manipulation power.

💙👻 The Case Study of Wes Weston by Karcutie

"His face wasn't that memorable. Even after seeing him just that morning, Danny could only conjure up his reddish brown hair and freckle-splattered cheeks, but not much else. At first, it didn’t matter much. Danny didn’t even bother to confirm his name. But after the curious streak dragged on and on, and spiraled into a full on investigation, he learned the name. And now he can’t seem to stop hearing it.

‘Wes Weston asked me for this’, ‘Wes Weston did that last week’, ‘I saw Wes Weston here’, ‘I heard he was there’, ‘Wes is so cool’, ‘I hate that guy’. Suddenly, he’s everywhere.

It seems like everyone except Danny knows Wes Weston.

And, it seems like Wes Weston knows…everything."

***This is my ONE exception for a fic not being completed! And by golly I WISH it was! I love Wes and this was one of those rare fics that was really starting to delve into him as a full character and his involvement with Danny. When I tell you I was crushed to see it hadn't been completed yet... but There's always hope, right? Fantastic character exploration in this!

💙🟢 Something's Wrong With Danny Fenton Vol. I by Ghostly_Cabbage

"Danny Fenton. The enigma of Casper High. It's the first day of the winter semester when she notices him. She notices him for what feels like the first time. Maybe because at this point he's the only alternative kid other than her. Or maybe because boom, there he is: the locker next to hers. -- A No One Knows AU where Danny transfers from a different school to Casper during Junior year and ends up befriending Sam and Tucker. Written for Invisobang 2021!"

No One Knows AU! I had to BINGE this one because it was so good! Reading the development of Sam, Tucker, and Danny's friendship with the added amount of strain from how creepy Danny is was *chef's kiss*. Great characterization in this and a lovely ending that made me immediately want to read it again! OH and I found this fic through some awesome fanart again!

💙🟢 Echoes by PhantomTwitch

"There was something wrong with Danny Fenton.

Nearly eighteen months after a lab accident left him hospitalized, his friends and family assumed he was still recovering from the side effects of his near-death experience. But after witnessing Danny do something ghostly, they begin to suspect something much more sinister is afoot and set out to save their friend from the clutches of the evil ghost possessing him."

No One Knows, Hazmat, Ghost King AU! Another one I recently binged. Again, great character exploration with Danny, Sam, and Tucker, especially with exploring how the Trio knew each other and then grew a part after Danny's accident. Also LOVED the characterization of Nocturne in this!! I haven't really seen him used in a mentor/morally gray light so it was fantastic getting to read something new for his character!

💙👻 Okay by TourettesDog

"Based on the prompts "Lancer is a good teacher and cares" and "Well, shit. He can't change back!""

Ya'll know she had to end the list with yet another Lancer fic. 😏 Seeing them stuck in an elevator with Lancer terrified and Danny nonchalant, to Danny having a breakdown and Lancer comforting him was a great read!

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

And there you have it! A whoooole bunch of fics I've read during my time in the Phandom!

Feel free to check out a lot of the Tumblr-Fics I've reblogged with my fanfiction tag here. There's a lot of good ones in there too!

Feel free to add fics you guys have read to this post as well! I hope everyone that I included is alright with it, and let me know if anything needs to be changed/added in a reblog!

Danny Phantom Fanfic Masterlist

I've been meaning to do this for a bit! Since I've been in the Phandom for 10+ years I've picked up a lot of good fanfics over the years and I think it'd be great to share them again in case people have forgotten/haven't encountered them!

I mostly used Fanfiction.net in my older days so a lot of them will be linked there. I'm also pretty picky when it comes to fics being completed, so expect the ones listed to be bingeable with an ending! And finally, I'm not huge on romance/smut so most of them probably won't involve those genres, I'll point out ones that do. (These are in no particular order).

👻 Happy Reading! 👻

👻 = Regular Fic

🟢 = Alternate Universe Fic

⚔️ = Crossover Fic

💙 = Would Recommend!

💙💙 = One of my Favorites!

💙⚔️💙 Mirrored by Lynse

"As a general rule, diving into unknown swirly vortexes in the Ghost Zone is a bad idea, but this was a time when Danny had no other real choice. Meanwhile, Jake thought he was through dealing with ghosts, but Rotwood, well, he's just getting started."

I posted about this one a few years ago and the author, @ladylynse , said it's also available on AO3. This is by far one of my f a v o r i t e fanfics that I read annually or so! If you're a sucker for American Dragon too, definitely check this one out <3 The characterization of both Jake and Danny, plus watching their friendship grow, always gets me in the feels.

💙👻 Phantom's Sketchbook by AkoyaMizuno

"Mr. Lancer finds himself in an unparalleled situation, he has access to something which can give him incredible insight into the personal workings of Amity Park's local ghost teen hero, Danny Phantom."

It's been a while since I've read this one, but I remember it having a lovely characterization of Lancer plus his mentor relationship with Danny. (I loved this one a great amount back in the day that I, uh, made fanart and turned it in for a school assignment. Which is lost to the ages now 😅)

👻 Darkness by Cordria

"Maddie and Phantom are trapped in the dark. Can they come to an agreement to work together before they both die at the full moon? Part 1 of Illuminations Saga."

I don't quite remember this one but I DO remember Cordria had some absolute bangers. You'll probably see their name a few more times on this list.

💙👻💙 Masks by Cordria

"Sometimes, people hide who they truly are behind masks. This is a short story about the day that Lancer decides enough is enough when it comes to Daniel Fenton. Sequel is 'Plunge'"

When I said Cordria had bangers, THIS is one of them! Another fic that I read annually, this one involves Lancer getting closer and closer to Danny's secret while he's stuck in detention for the weekend. I love love LOVE the characterization of Danny and Lancer in this, another at the top of the favorite list!

👻 Plunge by Cordria (sequel to Masks ^)

"Sequel to 'Masks'. Now that Lancer has learned the truth and has let Danny out of his office, Danny needs to face the next hurdle: his parents."

For some reason, I always forgot to put this on my favorite list so I often missed out on reading it with my annual read of Masks. I remember it being a decent sequel where the Fentons pick up the pieces of Danny's reveal.

👻 Pits by Cordria

"Danny has been captured and thrown into the Pits by Walker to fight for his life. Listen in as he tells his dark, twisted tale of surviving despite the odds. Warning: dark and depressing. Sequel is 'Final Exam'."

Another one I don't fully remember, but it had to be a solid read since it's on my favorites haha! I have a vague sense that it was a little angst/gore-y(?) as the description warns, so just heads up!

👻 Lab Rat by AnneriaWings

"The look on my parents' faces – eager, curious, somewhat hateful – wasn't exactly hard to give away their intentions. I knew what they were going to do to me even before Mom snapped on a pair of rubbery, white latex gloves."

*** This one is definitely a vivisection fanfic with graphic descriptions, so beware that content. Again, haven't read it in a long time but it had satisfied my angst itch back in the day.

👻 Wondering by Phantomrose96

"A continuation to Cordria's starshot #69 "Wondering". Danny's been captured and tortured by his parents, but he refuses to say a word until his psychiatrist starts connecting the dots. Can he risk keeping it a secret any longer?"

*** Another angst, lab experiment-esque fic. There are definite graphic scenes (as warned in the first chapter). I do remember this fic being huge in the 2010s (definitely a staple of the Phandom). The relationships and Danny recovering from his torture were great highlights.

👻 Connections by Lynse

"Maddie knows that the Booo-merang has keyed into Danny, for whatever reason, so what's she to think when she sees it collide with Phantom?"

Don't quite remember this one, but Lynse is amazing at writing, so it's bound to be a good read.

👻 Confessions by Lynse (Sequel to Connections ^)

"Follows Connections. Danny's secret's not as safe as he thinks, what with Maddie unable to ignore her wild suspicions any longer and piecing things together and Jack asking questions all on his own."

Same as above!

💙👻 Earthquake by Turkeyhead987

"Danny leaves with his bathroom excuse and leaves Dash curious. He follows Danny and ends up the the gym room with him. While they're in there, an earthquake occurs and leaves them trapped inside. Will any secrets be revealed? No DashxDanny! They're just the main characters!"

This one is another one that I've read multiple times over the years! From what I remember, it was a fun read involving Dash and Danny being trapped in the gym after an earthquake, and explores how Danny handles his secret around Dash while they wait for rescue.

💙👻 A Jock and a Hard Place by AnneriaWings

"Danny and Dash were silent, trying to wrap their mind around that stupid, simple fact – the door was locked. They were trapped. In a janitor's closet. Together. (Collab with Haiju)"

No romance in this one! Another story where Danny and Dash get trapped together. I've read this one several times, and remember enjoying the tension of Danny's secret being revealed. I also think they explored Danny and Dash's relationship in a fun way!

👻 An Unlikely Alliance by Represent

"Maddie wants her family back. In an attempt to understand her Danny's change in behavior, she unwittingly enlists the GIW to exorcize Phantom from her son."

Gonna be real with ya'll, I don't remember this one at all. But uhhh I'm gonna throw it on here just because I can. :)

👻 Flip Turn by dreamsweetmydear

"Danny's life the last couple of years has been chaotic and pretty scary, to say the least. However, one detention with Mr. Lancer opens a window of opportunity that promises to turn his life around in more ways than one. Revelation fic. Post-"Kindred Spirits.""

Yet again, I don't remember this fic. Sorry! But it's under 8000 words, so it's a little bit of a shorter read than some of the ones on this list!

👻 Journey of Secrets by WolfKael

"First Danny Phantom fic! DXS, TXV, but not super-heavy. Lancer's class is on a trip to the Ghost Zone, courtesy of the Fentons! (Takes a couple chapters to gain momentum, and I promise it isn't your average 'field trip' fic!) T because I'm paranoid, but it could probably be K ."

Also not a fic I remember. It's got about 50,000 words so thought I'd throw it in for anyone that likes a longer fic!

👻 Vulnerable by HaiJu

"A desperate moment leads to a difficult choice, and Danny must deal with the consequences. A collaboration between Anneriawings and Haiju."

Don't remember it, but HaiJu had/has some great fics! Seems to involve Danny and Maddie after skimming the first chapter.

👻 Little Fires by Represent

"My family's supposed to be geniuses, yet they've never figured it out. Now I know why. Because they already know I'm Phantom. They must know. The better questions are: Have they known this whole time? What's in that vial? What happened to Skulker? And what's in the locked drawer?"

You know what, if I remember it, I'll say something 😂

👻 Judge, Jury, Executioner by Cordria

"The Observants and the Ghost Council are sick of the Fentons creating half-ghost creatures that disobey the rules of the universe. It's time for them to step in before more are made. Can Danny save his parents and keep his secret intact? A three-part fic."

💙👻 A Phantom Marooned by LordPugsy

"No one but Danny was suspicious when his English class was awarded an all-expenses paid cruise trip by an anonymous benefactor. Everyone but Danny thought it was bad luck when they became ship-wrecked on an island in the middle of nowhere. No one but Danny fully understood the dangers lurking in the trees. No one but Danny knew how much danger they were all in so far from home."

This one involves Danny and his class getting out of Amity Park, so it's a little more oc-filled and explores a nontraditional setting for the trio. There might be a little SamxDanny in this one if I remember correctly, but overall I do remember having fun reading through this!

🟢 Candlelight by HappyLeif

"Sam's only friend is the ever-loyal Tucker, ever since Danny began slowly distancing himself from them after some accident freshman year. She wanted a friend, but she never thought she'd find the one she was looking for in the highly debated ghostly hero of Amity Park.

AU = Danny alone during the portal accident. Looks like there's some SamxDanny in this one! Don't remember it but heck I might have to reread it since the synopsis has me interested.

👻 Crashing and Burning by GriffinRose

"For two years, Maddie has put up with Danny's ridiculous lies and excuses. She's tried everything to get through to him, but the pattern just goes on. She's so tired of fighting him on this all the time. And so, after two years, she's done. She doesn't care what her son does anymore, because Danny doesn't seem to care that he's her son."

👻 I'll Be Here by HaiJu

"Some days you can't pick yourself up. Having family means you don't have to. Danny-centric, three oneshots. Completely shameless hurt/comfort. Bring tissues… and antiseptic."

👻 What Little Girls Are Made Of by HaiJu

"Phantom and his younger double save Amity Park from a monstrous ghost, nearly destroying themselves in the process. The Fentons have always hunted ghosts; now it's time to save one."

💙👻💙 You Should Be Dead by SaphireDragon11

"Dash and Kwan are horrified to discover they've accidentally killed their classmate, but perhaps even more so when he shows up at school the next day. With his secret on the line, Danny soon discovers Dash and Kwan are the least of his worries."

THIS story is definitely a favorite and fun read! The ending battle chapters always gets me excited to reread! ***Danny does get straight up shot by Dash at the beginning so be warned for that content. But I remember a post going around a year or so ago where someone had drabbled about Danny getting up after being shot by Dash. This story explores that concept with a longer plot!

💙👻💙 Roughing It by HaiJu

"Lost deep in the woods with an undead pack on their heels, Maddie and Phantom find themselves entangled in an awkward alliance. Can they cooperate long enough to get out of this mess?"

Another favorite! This one explores Maddie and Danny's relationship, kind of similar to how the show did in the Maternal Instincts episode. I adore how HaiJu explores Maddie's thought-process with dealing with Phantom in a situation where she kind of needs him and he won't leave her alone. Great mother-son fic!

👻 Phantom of Truth by Haiju

"Locked away in a secret government lab with Phantom as her subject, nothing stands between Maddie and the truth... except, perhaps, herself."

Haven't read this one in a loooooong time, but I remember being around for HaiJu updating this fic, posting about it on Tumblr, and the Phandom being generally hyped for it. Another staple for the Phandom! It's another torture fic, so heads up regarding that content!

💙👻 Shadow of a Doubt by Haiju (Sequel to Phantom of Truth ^)

"The truth was supposed to save Danny. Fix things. The lab, the experiments, the lies, those were all in the past. Weren't they? Sequel to Phantom of Truth."

And then BAM on top of finishing Phantom of Truth, HaiJu hit us all with a completed sequel! I was super excited whenever this fic got updated, felt like I was waiting for a new episode to air on TV every time! There's some OCs in this since it explores Danny running away from Amity, but I remember genuinely loving the OCs and loved reading about Danny mentally recovering from being experiment on.

👻 Just a Boy by Tay1019411

"Maddie and Jack finally have Phantom right where they always wanted him: in there lab, helpless, but everything is different now. Now, Maddie faces the truth about what Phantom really is."

🟢 Make It Go Away by DarkNymfa

"Not for the first time, Danny cursed himself for never telling anyone about his extra-curricular activities. And now, far more injured than he could fix himself, Danny desperately wished that he had told just one person."

No one knows AU

👻 Flicker by DarkNymfa

"It had taken just one moment, one split-second in which she had seen Phantom instead of Danny. Now she found herself on a path she didn't want to be on. One she couldn't leave, not anymore."

👻 The Scientific Method by ReconstructWriter

""After two years of failures you'd have better luck asking Phantom to be your lab-rat," Jazz said. The Fentons decide to try just that."

👻 Phantom Hitchhiker by ghostanimal

"Phic Phight Oneshot: While students get to leave early after a ghost attack, teachers have to stick around for boring meetings to discuss the attack. The ghost attack was now over, but it didn't mean all the ghosts were gone. Lancer finds himself driving a certain Phantom home while reflecting on how young the poor kid is."

👻 Returning After the Reveal by Illusn

"Phic Phight attack, using a prompt by Love-ly-ish. Danny returns to school after his secret was revealed in a ghost attack, having to deal with people suddenly treating him differently."

👻 Vantage Point by Lynse

"Phantom was young. Painfully young. Somehow, Lancer had never really noticed that before. One-shot, written for the 2019 Phic Phight."

👻 Oddities by Lynse

"Jack can't deny that their ghost hunting equipment malfunctions around Danny-consistently and exclusively around Danny-and decides to get to the bottom of it, once and for all. One-shot, written for the 2019 Phic Phight."

👻 To Be a Hero by cosette141

"Danny has always known the consequences should he be captured by the Guys In White, but now Tucker is going to learn firsthand just what the stakes are for his superhero friend and what it really means to be a hero. (not slash) hurt/comfort"

👻 Family Reunion by Dp-Marvel94

"For Phango. Prompts used- Setting: Family Reunion, Wes Weston, Aunt Alicia, Stuck in the thermos. And Identity Reveal…kinda (does it count if Wes had already worked out that Fenton was Phantom but hadn't seen him actually transform so wasn't completely sure?)"

Wes Fic!

👻 Stuck by SummersSixEcho

"[OneShot] After a prank from two of his ghostly acquaintances, Danny is stuck in ghost mode during one of the most important events of his young half-life. If only he didn't have to give a speech on top of it... [Phic Phight 2020 entry; prompt by Ghostanimal]"

👻 One-Eighty by SummersSixEcho

"[One Shot] After a grueling battle, two teenagers at a diner try to sort out a night of revelations. [DannyMay 2020, Day 28: Diner]"

👻 Threads of Time by ZombieRed

""I just want to know what's going on with you, Danny! I wish I could just, I don't know, spend the day figuring out what you've been hiding from me. Then maybe I could help you. But you being closed off from everyone is only hurting you. Can't you see that?" Or Maddie keeps on waking up to Thursday morning [No PP, pretty much ignores season 3 as a whole]"

👻 Invisible Stitches by Lynse

"Family bonding time might be less dangerous now that his parents know his secret, but that doesn't mean Danny is wild about being kept in the dark when it comes to his dad's plans for the weekend. One-shot."

Loved the concept of Danny having trouble being away from Amity Park!

👻 Whenever You're Ready by SummersSixEcho

"[OneShot] Jack and Maddie try to show their son they are very supportive of Phantom once they find out his secret. They want him to tell them on his terms, but everything ends up in bigger misunderstandings and more revelations they weren't prepared for. [Belated Phic Phight entry for Star G, Arioz, Bird, Dekalkomania, and Wife]"

Written in a Journal-Entry style! Interesting format if I remember correctly.

👻 An Attempt at Camping by Seasilver17

"They should have known that even when they were in the middle of nowhere camping. Something would have to go wrong. Curse his Fenton luck"

👻 Secrets Secrets and Advice (This Teacher's Vice) by AppleScentedLazers

"After a particularly grueling day Mr. Lancer just wants to go home, kick up his feet, and read some Shakespeare. But, when he runs into two of his students looking for their missing best friend, Lancer ends up with more questions than he has answers for. Such as, who is Phantom? And just what is Daniel Fenton hiding?"

👻🟢 Going Ghost by cosette141

"My take on the moment Danny turns on the ghost portal and becomes half-ghost… as well as an alternate way for Sam and Tucker to find out. Friendship Oneshot"

👻 Lair by Lexosaurus

"When something goes wrong with a piece of Vladco tech, Valerie ends up stuck in the Ghost Zone. With Phantom."

💙👻 In Case of Emergency by Unlucky Alis

"Lancer is grading papers when he gets the call. "I'm calling from Amity West. I have an underage patient here who has named you as their emergency contact." Lancer rushes over, of course, fretting all the while about what accident Danny Fenton has gotten himself into now, because it could only be him. Except, when he arrives, it's not the Danny he expected to find."

I remember enjoying the little twist on Lancer being the emergency contact for Phantom yet having no idea. Lancer handles it pretty well all things considered. (I think you guys can tell I just like Lancer fics at this point HA)

👻 Furthest from Myself by WastefulReverie

"An accident during a ghost invasion leaves nearly a hundred citizens with inexplicable ghost powers. Little did they know, this was only the catalyst for a series of revelations."

👻 Ghost Smarts! by Dekalkomania

"When it becomes clear the ghosts are here to stay, the Amity Park school district decides they need to teach proper safety precautions. In dire need of extra credit, Danny takes Mr. Lancer's offer to be the assistant in an assembly titled, "Ghost Smarts!"

Very unprepared for what he signed up for, Danny must deal with the eccentric detective J.J. Bittenbinder, all while not blowing his cover."

[sanktyastag]

genuinely so confused with people who hate show!darklng. show!darkling is as much of a part of oppressed minority as book!darkling is but with even more 'validation' for his purpose, and i see people still hate show!him saying "oh but he is very bad in book" but then i see them rooting for book m*l LIKE HOWWW [i do kinda understand with those who dislike book!darkling but im still as baffled when when they root for book m*l]

ah, the good old darkling vs mal debate, lol.

in all honesty, i think whether someone prefers mal or the darkling when they watch/read SaB really comes down to how different fans like to engage with media.

i really enjoy politics, moral ambiguity, and fiction as a tool to examine real world oppression. as a result (and incredibly predictably to every single person who knows me) my favorite character is the darkling, because his character is a great lense to examine those different aspects of the series from. but, let's be honest here - both the books and the show only engage in politics, gray morality, and discrimination and oppression against minorities in like... the most surface-level way possible. if you're not already prone to getting over-invested in those fictional aspects, there's very little incentive to do so - because both the books and the show only set the darkling up as a focal point to examine those concepts in book 1, when alina thinks he could possibly be a good person. as soon as the darkling is revealed to be an eViL mAnIpUlAtOr, quite literally all of the nuance is stripped from his character, and we no longer engage with any valid points he may or may not have.

which means, if you're not super interested in socio-political worldbuilding, or you don't really want to examine war from a philosophical or moral standpoint, the books and show won't make you, and so it's nice and easy to just view the darkling as the amoral antagonist who needs to be taken down. i honestly don't blame fans for not liking him in the books, because the books don't... really want you to. and the show does pretty much the same thing. the show stops sympathizing with the darkling the second baghra lets the truth drop, and so every single thing he was previously shown to care about is now framed as the manipulation of an evil, calculating villain. so if a fan looks at the darkling, sees all the evil shit he does, and doesn't want to look past all of that, in order to critically examine his character, and the biased way he's viewed... i mean. yeah. then they wouldn't be a fan of his. they're more than justified in that, in my opinion. "this character is interesting, you just have to look past all the nonsensical extremist, stupid bullshit he does that harms everyone around him" isn't going to be a universal opinion, and i don't blame them for not wanting to go out of their way to sympathize with an uncompromising, murderous bastard who doesn't really respect anyone else's opinions other than his own (which, i think, is true even of show!darkling, although he feels worse about the fact that he's screwing people over. like he might cry about it, but he's still going to go forward with his plan, regardless of who objects). there's a reason darklina fans spend so much time writing about what they think would have been a more satisfying or interesting character arc for the darkling to go through - because canon absolutely doesn't do him any favors. like at all.

and on the other side, there's mal. i actually like both show and book mal, even though i don't think book mal was always handled incredibly well. i think he's a fairly sympathetic character with phenomenally bad coping mechanisms, and that the story spends essentially no time actually exploring his negative character traits in a meaningful way, which means, again, that we're given a character who the audience is tasked with doing most of the legwork for, if they want to like him. just like darkling fans very rarely excuse every single thing he's ever done, i don't actually see mal fans defend all the shit he pulls - beyond when both sides are baiting each other, in which case everyone seems to say the most black and white shit i've ever heard. but that's just kind of how online discourse works, so i won't judge people based off that, lol.

i think most fans of book mal seem to take his character, examine his negative traits and where they stem from, pick how they, personally, would like to see those issues addressed, and then put in the work to give him and alina the breathing room to do go through that character growth together.

so, by and large, i think fans of book mal and show mal just have different concepts that they find interesting or satisfying to explore in the media that they like. i obviously can't speak for others, but generally with mal and alina, i do think it's an interesting coming of age story, and has a smaller-scale, trauma-focused approach to the over-arching, wide-scale moral dilemmas that i focus on when i think about the darkling and alina. they're two flawed characters, thrust into a horrible situation, and they're desperately trying to get through it together, while fighting for the happy, peaceful lives that no one else has ever cared about them achieving.

so, yeah. in the end, i think it's really about what a fan wants from the media they consume. there's not really a wrong answer, in my opinion. it's only when people start judging each other over their fictional preferences that things start getting rocky, which is something that both darkling/alina shippers and mal/alina shippers could probably be better about, as needlessly antagonistic posts are prominent in both ship tags.

[acourtofthought]

Mates ARE Just as Romantic

The more I think about the argument that it would be more romantic if a couple were to choose one another outside of having a bond with someone else, the more I confuse myself turning it over in my head. So let me know if this makes any sense:

(But first, taking a quick detour:

I do understand that mates are supposed to be rare however, I think a possible argument to why we're seeing so many in this series (in Rhys's words) is that the bond might be meant to provide the strongest offspring. That doesn't mean that a couple needs to have children because each couple still has free will and that may not be the right path for everyone but.....the members of the IC and now the three sisters are some of the most powerful Fae in Prythian. If Fate were trying to set things up to create the most powerful offspring for whichever couples want to try for a biological child then giving a mate to all of the above makes sense. Taking one Fae with extreme power and having them mated to another Fae with extreme power = the best chance of nature providing powerful offspring. Please don't misunderstand me though. Even the ones who end up with their mate may still choose against having children. I'm only basing this off Rhys's attempt to explain the bond to Feyre.

Back to the choosing outside of the bond is more romantic debate:

Is it though? The bond draws these characters to one another, sure. But is Rhysand ONLY amazing because of the bond with Feyre? Is Cassian ONLY worth being in a relationship with because of the mating bond? Did Feyre choose Rhys, despite the fact that he's as attractive as a warthog with a terrible personality because she's so blinded by the bond that she just can't stay away? Did Nesta finally commit to Cassian regardless of him being a hideous ogre who eats small children only because she had no choice in the matter because of the bond?

Or............

Is Rhys drop dead gorgeous, fiercely loyal to his friends and people, and a morally gray match for Feyre herself? Isn't that romantic enough? The bond is an added bonus to it all but aren't they still perfect together?

Is Cassian not a perfect compliment to Nesta because he's got a warrior heart the same way she does but his soft edges sooth her rough ones? Is it less romantic that they finally got together because they are mates? Would it have been more romantic that they refused to give in because a bond existed despite their personalities being a wonderful fit?

Rhys is who he is, Feyre is who she is, Cassian is who he is, Nesta is who she is. They are all who they are because of their lives up this point. The bond is sort of a dating app in Prythian. "Hey, based on these factors, we think you should Swipe Right on this person." It's a way to bring people together. But the app (bond) isn't what makes the choice for them to move forward with a relationship. It's just as romantic if they decide to be together regardless of what brought them together in the first place.

Without bringing theories into this, going off the assumption that Lucien is in fact Elain's true mate and the strong hints that Azriel and Gwyn are mates, are we honestly going to say that neither Lucien and Az are really that great? That them having a bond with someone means that's the ONLY reason a female could feel something for them so it's less romantic if they end up together?

If Gwyn ends up with Azriel and they are mated, it's not romantic because it's the bond making Azriel attractive? It's the bond tricking her into thinking he's brave? It's the bond making him seem to have that dry sense of humor that only exists when she's around him and that no one else sees since they aren't mated to him?

If Elain and Lucien finally connect, is the bond tricking them into finding the other physically appealing? I'm pretty sure I've noticed that literally no other character seems to be able to stop themselves from commenting on how beautiful Elain is, how Lucien's hair shines like molten fire, how muscular and strong he is, how handsome even with his scar. I've also noticed that these same other characters have commented on how wise Elain is, how intelligent Lucien is, how alive they both seem when they're out in nature. None of these other characters have a bond with Elain or Lucien so they must both have some redeeming qualities. But for some reason, them noticing these same things about one another would be less meaningful because they have the addition of the bond.

I think the fact that SJM has never shown us a case of Insta-lust is the proof that it's not really about the Bond. If Feyre met Rhys and found herself so overcome with passion that they eloped that very evening then it could definitely be said that are only together because of the bond. But Feyre and Nesta both pursued other paths after meeting their mates. They found that did not make them happy, they got to know their significant others as individuals for quite awhile and decided they actually liked them for WHO they were, not WHAT they were.

There's no reason the same can't be said for other eventual mated pairs IF that's the direction SJM takes the story.

[love-peterparker]

In Extremis || Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: After the reveal of Spider-Man’s secret identity and the release of Quentin Beck’s murder video, there isn’t a lot going right for Peter Parker. But he has you. 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, protests and rallies, mentions of murder, a gun that is never shot, and some hair description for Y/N for plot purposes (but it should still be generic enough).  

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: I’m first a Captain America and Agent Carter fan, and I wanted to recreate what makes their relationship so special, but with Peter and Y/N… ‘cuz I also love Peter Parker. I really loved writing this, and I hope you enjoy it.

Also, thanks to @marvelouspeterparker, @sinisterspidey (she actually has a blurb called I’ll Follow You and it builds off of Spider-Man’s identity reveal) and @stuckonspidey for answering my anon asks for general writing tips and Peter’s character. And @spideyspeaches with her kind words after reading one of the final drafts of this fic. Lastly, a special thanks to @peterbenjiparker encouraging me with this fic and for making me so emotional with her series Invisible String (Read this!... but only if your heart can take it) that I needed to write something. This story has nothing to do with it, but it does make some small generic references to her fic, and I would like to think that Y/N and Peter are soulmates in this story.

***

This takes place in a universe where a FFH-esque identity reveal happens when Y/N and Peter are young adults.

***

This fucking city didn’t deserve him.

Peter rarely admits it, but you say it all the time. When you hit a dead end in the Avenger’s database. When checking for your gun before leaving another safehouse. When reaching for him in the dark of night.

This fucking city didn’t deserve him.

It had been over a year since Peter’s identity as Spider-Man was revealed and the dubious video of Quentin Beck’s murder was released. But it felt like a lifetime.

These two Peter problems were like ivy. They rooted, twisted, and spread. Winding into chokeholds around their victims.

But heroes knew how to play with fire.

Peter’s identity was dealt with in a straightforward fashion. Plenty villains who would do anything to exact revenge on Spider-Man, but they would have to find Peter Parker and identify his loved ones first. And for someone like Peter? Well, it was going to take some time.

To you, Peter was lifegiving. A shining ray of golden hope. You fell to sleep and rose to press kisses into his face. To cherish and hold. To share tears. But to the world, or even New York City? He was a nobody, one who couldn’t even hold a steady job.

You all worked fast while the wicked played catch-up. The Avengers searched and wiped all, but ultimately little personal information Peter had on the internet, as well anything that might connect him to your shared inner circle. Everyone was given an Avenger’s signal watch. And both you and May opted to move as a precaution. May to Brooklyn. You to Avenger’s Tower.

The case of Quentin Beck’s murder was a much more grinding process. Through polished superhero reputations, the lawyers secured an Avenger’s Tower house arrest during court proceedings. An overwhelming amount of evidence in Peter’s favor was gathered. Press conferences were held. Speeches were given. And when it all seemed like it was too much for too long, you and Peter would lie in bed, arms and legs entangled, whispering that everything would turn out all right. Good will win. You just had to keep going.

It was taxing, but not impossible. And just when you all thought you were pulling at the end of the thread with the jury in your favor, the ground beneath you crumbles into nothingness. You spiral and crash into a labyrinth, lush and high-walled. Maybe this was the way out- oh wait, you’ve been here- or have you? You all turn and turn only to face a new dead end. A new set of incriminating videos were released. Spider-Man’s videos took the spotlight, but videos of Wanda and Bucky were also revealed. The streets of New York bustled in whispers.

Can we really trust these heroes? What if these videos are the truth?

And what happens when these powerful people think they are right when they are wrong?

When public protests against Earth’s heroes sprouted and jury members started to disappear, it was clear that the whoever or whatever was behind this had greater motives and powerful allies. It was time to buy time.

Everyone had tried to convince Peter to go into hiding somewhere else. Anywhere else. He had enough super-friends where anywhere was possible. Lay low while everyone else above ground scrambled to unweave this massive web of lies. But Peter was infuriatingly adamant that New York, regardless of her wavering loyalties, was his to protect.

So two months ago, he started bouncing around New York City, investigating when he could, and making polarizing headlines with every swing he took.

You tried to continue as if Peter was still by your side. After being terminated from your junior journalist job for “suspect ties to Spider-Man,” Spider-Man became your mission. You originally attended press conferences and rallies as moral support, but after Peter’s first awkward mumbles of a speech, it was painfully clear that he needed a new voice. The public herself needed a normal person who interacted with superheroes. Who better than Spider-Man’s girlfriend? But after the last kidnapping attempt and the Avengers’ numbers shrinking, it was clear that this wouldn’t last. The world now knew who you were too.

The thick ivy had caught up, and you were on fire.

But to hell with it because there was no universe where you would be leaving this nightmare without him. So the next time you looked in the mirror, you donned short red hair and heavy eyeliner.  

Days were spent questioning possible witnesses. Nights were spent in the light of a computer. And when you could barely drag yourself to continue, moments were spent staring at your beautiful boy’s picture. He needed you.  

You had only heard from him twice since he went into hiding, though there were a few times answered unknown number calls would lead to abstract rustling and distinct web shooter noises. To those, you always whispered “I love you,” before hanging up.

That was until last night, when you noticed small slip of paper in the crack of the window of the safehouse you had been staying at. Only a time and an address were written, in messy, but undeniably Parker script.

You spent the next day visiting arbitrary places in the Bronx, trying to determine if anyone was following you and collecting items in an unsuspecting backpack.

It was a balancing act between comfort and practicalities. An extra stealth suit. A waterproof jacket you both shared. Protein bars. Extra web fluid and a first-aid kit. A hefty wad of cash, just in case. And in the smallest pocket, things to help him in the darkest days to come. Letters from you, May, Ned, and your other friends. A few packs of gummy bears. And a picture of you and him, laughing in Central Park on one of your many dates. Sunlight casting halos on your heads. Bright. Carefree. Brimming with love.

Your heart cried and cried and cried, begging for those days.

But they were gone. And as much as you didn’t want to admit it, so were the people in that picture.

You travelled to the building location and made your way to the rooftop. Rows and rows of white sheets were hung, all whipping in the wind to dry.

A small smile graced your lips. You had to hand it to him. He was smart.

You folded yourself into one of the corners of the rooftop, gun in hand and waited. Eerie silence slowly lulling you to…

You woke up to the soft footsteps, sleepy eyes registering a shadowy figure behind one of the bedsheets.

“Hans?” you whispered, pointing your gun with a finger on the trigger.

“Leia,” the figured replied, equally hushed. The shadow lifted the curtain. It took a second to register, but it was really him. You raced towards each other, quick hold each other, beaming. Today, you existed in the same place at the same time.

“That was so stupid. I can’t believe you got me to do that,” you laughed, pressing your face into him, holding him tightly as if he could disappear at any moment.

“Oh, come on, you loved it!” he quipped. You hummed in appreciation.

“True, but I love you more.” His eyes brightened at your confession, pink dusting his cheeks.

“I know.” You shook your head, smiling at his response before turning your head and taking in who he had become. Gone were the luxurious curls, replaced with a buzzcut. A pair of fake glasses perched on his nose in further attempts to conceal his identity. Hallowed eyes. His skin tinted gray from the stress. You ran your fingers through the fuzz on his head, massaging his scalp. A sigh escaped his lips, eyes fluttering shut, with hands reaching to caress yours.

“You cut your hair.”

“You did too.” His fingers danced in the ends of your own tresses. A sad smile furnished your face.

“It had to be done,” you replied, before pressing your lips to his cheek and gently removing yourself from his embrace to get your laptop. “We need to get started. We’ve found a lot since you left.”

With his head on your shoulder, fingers laced with yours, and your laptop on your lap, you recounted the on-going investigation to him. The deep web that just kept going and going. Your theories and suspects. And when that was done, you kept talking. How Aunt May and his friends were fine but missing him. How the remaining Avengers were fairing. Peter was oddly quiet, sharing only a few thoughts here and there, but you attributed it to his weariness.

As the sun continued to dip, the silences between sentences stretched, but you mustered more words. As if your sentences were the delicate string that grounded him to you.

“Y/N,” he interrupted. You looked at him and hummed in reply. He began playing with your fingers, eyes never meeting your own. “I love you more than I ever I thought I could, and I’m really thankful for everything you’ve done. And you’ve done so much. Like, I don’t know if I would have even made it this far without you, but here you are, and well, you can’t keep doing this.” You cocked your head, before shaking your head, hair rustling.

“What? Peter, we are getting somewhere! I just need to visit the-“ He lets go of your hand, fingers clenching into trembling fists.

“No, no more visits. No more investigating. This can’t be your life. When this started, we thought there was a way out. But it’s been over a year. Clearly whoever or whatever is doing this won’t stop until we’re all gone. This may never stop. I can’t have you throwing away your life for me. Hell, I don’t even know when I’ll see you aga-“

“Peter,” you cut him off, your voice pitched lower in concern, “Where is this coming from? We’re gonna make it. It is just a matter of-”

“I can’t give you what you deserve! I’m Spider-Man, so we don’t get to have a house and two kids! We get this-, this fucking disaster! I live like this because I have to. I don’t get a choice. And you shouldn’t be stupid enough where you are doing the same thing!”  

Your mouth fell open, ready to spit back poison when he looked at you. It was in his eyes. Behind the falling tears and redness was the glint of insecurity that Peter had always carried. This was the child whose parents died. The teenager who didn’t stop his Uncle Ben from getting killed. Who held Tony Stark in his last moments. The man who was on the run.  

The hero who would never stop giving to a world who would never stop taking.

Your thoughts frenzied. If you held on to him too tightly, he would resist. The more he would thrash, determined to save you while slowly sacrificing himself until there was nothing left. Your brain was frozen, so your heart gave you the words-

“Marry me.”  

Peter’s eyes widen before retracting into a tight furrow, scrunching his nose.

“What?! No! Did you not hear anything I just said-“

“I’m not leaving you. I will never leave you. The one thing you never get to doubt in the world is us. So, I’m gonna ask you again; will you,” you took his hand, went to one knee, and let your voice soften as you held his gaze, “Peter Parker, marry me?”  

You both bathed in silence. His chocolate doe eyes boring straight into yours, searching for truth. The thought that maybe you had gone about this the wrong way started to crawl into your mind, but then a smile slowly creeped onto his face, bright red with blush. More salt-water pooled in his eyes. He pulled you into a near lung-constricting embrace, smothering wet kisses into every inch of your face. Mine. Mine. Mine. You could practically hear his thoughts as you basked in each kiss. I missed you. I love you. And oh my god, you’re here to stay.

“What did I ever-, I have no idea know what I ever did to ever deserve you.” A smirked formed on your lips.

“Is that a yes?” The gold stars in his eyes shined at your playfulness. There was the man you always loved.

“Yes, yes, oh god yes. I do, Mrs. Parker,” he said pulling you in for a passionate kiss. And you both stayed there, melting into the ground beneath you. Breathing each other in as moments passed. Tender “I love you’s” flowing generously from both of your lips. As if the world had vanished and all that existed was you and him, and him and you, and this understanding that this, this was a love until death do you part.

Peter was the one to break the string of kisses, leaving you to chase his lips before touching his forehead with your own. His breath hot on your face. “I- , if you go to my lab there is a secret compartment. In my desk. The code is your birthday. I was going to ask you myself, but then, well… this.” You chuckled as he stumbled on his words.

“I’ll get it as soon as I can.” You both leaned in to close the gap again when a cacophony of sirens and lights echoed in the streets below.

Frustration filled Peter’s eyes as he sat up. “Shit. I-, I gotta go. Are you gonna be okay?” You let out a shallow breath, but quickly forced a smile.

“Go get’em.” And with the whip of his webs, he was gone.

You sat there for a moment, taking in the new quiet. Your fingers graced your lips, still warm with the memory of his. A lightness had settled in your chest, and with every breathe you could feel it pulse stronger.

Because no matter what it took, no matter how long the wait, there was two things for certain.

He was going to protect the city. And you were going to save your husband.

[writerthreads]

The top 10 classic fears in literature

By Prof. Marianna Torgovnik on TedBlog

Fear #1:  Death, death, death—did I mention death?

An almost universal fear, death recurs in literature more than any other fear, all the way from canonical works through fantasies like J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. I list the fear of death three times since it occurs in many forms: fear of our own deaths, fear of family members or close friends dying, fear of children preceding parents, the death of an entire culture.

Some examples: Shakespeare’s Sonnets (“Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore”; Hamlet  (“To be or not to be”); John Keats (“When I have fears”); Virginia Woolf, The Waves; Pat Barker, The Ghost Road. This list could go on and on, because the fear does.

Fear #2:  Avoiding death for the wrong reasons.

Literature loves paradox and so, paradoxically, the second greatest fear is avoiding death for the wrong reasons: when death will inevitably follow a noble or moral act or out of cowardice, especially in war. For understandable reasons, this fear is less common than more general fear of death, but it is out there and memorable nonetheless.

Some examples: Sophocles, Antigone (to bury her dead brother, Antigone famously courts death); Shakespeare several times — Hamlet again (“There is a providence in the fall of a sparrow”) and Antony and Cleopatra (to avoid capture by Octavius); Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities (“It is a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done”); Harry Potter in his pursuit of Voldemort.

Fear #3:  Hunger or other severe physical deprivation.

Survival tends to trump the finer emotions when it comes to fear. Sometimes time specific, the fear of hunger nonetheless reminds us of basic things. In romantic novels or poems, it can be and often is a symbol for more abstract needs, like love. In Holocaust literature, it portrays humanity strained to the core.

Some examples: Dante, The Divine Comedy (Count Ugolino and his children); Samuel Taylor Coleridge, “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” (“Water, water, every where, nor any drop to drink”); Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre; Elie Wiesel, Night; Susanne Collins’ The Hunger Games.

Fear #4:  Killing or causing the death of someone you love.

Whether by murder, negligence or a set of circumstances beyond our control, the fear of causing the death of someone we love is a big one. It’s a stock feature of numerous spy and crime dramas, where we tend to brush it off since the hero (think James Bond) or (more rarely) heroine’s beloved is almost always a goner. Numerous operas by Verdi, including Rigoletto and Un Ballo in Maschera use this theme, sometimes more than once; in fact, opera thrives on this fear, as in Bizet’s Carmen. It usually takes serious and even majestic forms in literature.

Some examples:  Patroclus dying for Achilles in Homer’s The Iliad; Othello killing Desdemona in Shakespeare’s Othello; Thomas Hardy, Jude the Obscure (“Done because we are too menny”); D.H. Lawrence’s Women in Love (Gerald choosing to die rather than kill Gudrun); Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl.

Fear #5: Being rejected and/or being loved by the wrong person.

At last we come to a fear that can have a lighter side and, sometimes — though not always — a happy ending. In literature, characters fear being rejected, being loved, and being loved by the wrong person in almost equal proportions. Once again, the examples span the ancient classics all the way up to the present.

Some examples:  Woman loves step-son madly in three versions of the same story, none with a happy ending (Euripides, Hippolytus; Racine, Phaedra; Mary Renault, The Bull from the Sea); mixed up couples set right in Shakespeare’s As You Like It; love triumphs by the end in Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice; two different kinds of love lead to tragedy in Hardy, Tess of the D’Urbervilles; mixed results in Jeffrey Eugenides, The Marriage Plot.

Fear #6:  Illness, disease and aging.

Closely allied to the fear of death — but not identical to it — the fear of illness is another constant though, as we’d expect, the disease most feared changes over time. The bubonic plague used to be the leading contender; TB enjoyed a long dominance until cures were found. Nowadays, cancer and, more often, dementia are far greater fears. There is at least one stunning example in this category of embracing the fear being absolutely the right thing to do: Flaubert’s St Julien, L’Hospitalier, in which the saint embraces a leper and achieves transcendence.

Some examples:  Giovanni Boccacio’s Decameron; Daniel Defoe’s Journal of the Plague Year; Oscar Wilde, The Portrait of Dorian Gray; Albert Camus, La Peste (The Plague); Ian McEwan, Atonement; Jonathan Franzen, The Corrections.

Fear #7:  Lost reputation, divorce or scandal.

People used to fear this one more than they do today, when our motto seems to be that no publicity is really bad publicity and unseemly revelations are the order of the day. Still, this is a significant fear, and one that even recent books revisit in original ways.

Some examples: Sophocles, Oedipus Rex; Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina; D.H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley’s Lover; Thomas Wolfe, The Bonfire of the Vanities; Phillip Roth, The Human Stain.

Fear #8:  War, shipwrecks and other disasters.

The fear of shipwrecks can seem archaic — but they were the airplane crashes of yesteryear. Shipwrecks can be mere episodes or the core of the plot; in early literature, they are closely allied with war, a more global disaster. While other disasters arouse fear — earthquakes, volcanos — war and shipwrecks lead the field. Both change characters’ lives, with variable results.

Some examples:  Homer, The Odyssey; Defoe, Robinson Crusoe; Jonathan Swift, Gulliver’s Travels; Tolstoy, War and Peace; Yann Martel, Life of Pi.

Fear #9:  The law and, more specifically, lawyers.

Fear of the law is a surprisingly classic fear, weighing in at number nine. But what’s meant by the law changes over time. While fear of God’s judgment remains plausible in literature, it is far less common today than fear of society’s laws — and specifically the rapacity of lawyers and the law’s ability, in Dickens’ words, “to make business for itself.” In some modern books, the law becomes a metaphor for the meaning of life.

Some examples:  The Bible; Aeschylus, The Oresteia; Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter; Dickens, Bleak House; Franz Kafka, The Trial; Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things

Fear #10:  That real life won’t resemble literature.

While this might seem the most trivial of fears, in fact it drives a lot of great literature. Some characters want life to be elevated, inflated, like epic or romantic literature. Deprived of that illusion, they die or take their own lives—looping us back to fear #1. Other characters favor codes of renunciation that have been called by literary critics “the Great Tradition,” fearing that they will gain something by immoral or amoral actions; a variation on this fear is the fear, as George Eliot’s Dorothea puts it, “I try not to have desires merely for myself.” Not at all light for avid readers, this fear usefully reminds us that life is not really like a Henry James novel.

Some examples:  Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quixote; Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary; George Eliot, Middlemarch; Henry James, The Ambassadors; Julian Barnes, The Sense of an Ending.

[condorclaw]

Why It’s Hard To Understand c!Technoblade

Note: These are my own thoughts and beliefs. This isn’t meant to be hate or critical at all, but rather trying to figure out why Technoblade’s actions are harder for some people to understand. I’m always open to friendly discussion, as some people might have noticed things that I haven’t!

After completion note: This could be slightly hard to read due to my jumbled thoughts, and the sudden realization I had while working on this, but I tried to explain everything as best as I could! This is now not even c!Technoblade critical, but rather Minecraft critical /j

A quick lookover at the cast of the Dream SMP will definitely show how many unique characters there are within the story, and that’s only based on appearances. Diving deeper into each of them, they all have their own morals, backstories, and relationships that drive what they do.

There’s another factor that makes each of them unique too, and that’s how they tell their stories. Some are more reactionary, while others take time to work out their own feelings and thoughts. Imagine it as a scale:

While some characters are more introspective and express their feelings and motivations more through words (ex. Ranboo, Ghostbur), other characters share their own morals through their actions, be them extreme or subtle (ex. Sapnap, Dream). Of course, those aren’t the only two options, with the storytelling being a sliding line where there is a middle ground for some characters to display their own feelings through a combination of words and actions (ex. Jack and Tommy).

Now, this isn’t saying that Ranboo can’t act on his morals, or that Dream can’t use his words (we’ve all seen them do both very well). It’s more so a representation of the storytelling they’re most common with. All the ones who use words to express their feelings have backed it up with actions, and the ones who’ve acted on their thoughts have shared reflections on it with words. One way of storytelling is not better than the other, and it’s rather good to have multiple ways of seeing how characters react to situations through their common/preferred method of expression.

However, when it comes to Technoblade, he exists on the scale in a very weird way.

While he can appear on the scale, he doesn’t exactly fit within the similar boundaries of other characters. He acts, but rarely backs it up with almost any words. When he does use words, while they make sense, there’s too little to connect them to the full extent of what he does.

There’s another character who’s also in the same spot as Techno on the scale: Phil, who does tend to act in the same way Techno does, also having the same explaining gap as Techno.

So why do I understand Phil’s reasoning more than Techno?

It’s because of something else outside of words and actions, just rather character explanation. It’s an overlying trait.

Phil’s overlying trait is that he’s centuries old and has seen loved ones die. With this knowledge, it’s much easier to come to an understanding of where Phil’s own thoughts lie and why he acts the way he does. Of course this trait isn’t applicable to all his actions, but it allows us to bridge gaps between his disconnected actions and come to an understanding of why he might believe in specific ideals and morals.

Overlying traits can change though, Ranboo being an example of this. At the beginning, his trait was memory issues, which caused his feelings to be affected by his condition, and seek out those who he remembered to be good. It’s why he had the memory books, and why they were used to bridge parts of his own thinking and actions. Currently, his overlying trait has shifted to wanting peace. It’s through this why he takes his alliances and friends into consideration when making decisions, because all he wants in the end is the best result for everybody to benefit from.

Techno doesn’t appear to have a current overlying trait that originated from anywhere. “Destroy the government” could possibly be seen as this, but it’s more of an overlying statement than an overlying trait, something that’s rooted in mostly words rather than in a fact. “I’m a person too” could also be it, but that thought is rarely covered, with Techno currently leaning towards a more militaristic and authoritarian mindset.

At this point, there doesn’t seem to be a clear overlying trait for Techno’s character that connects his actions together. Techno rarely goes into his own mindset, rather acting upon what he believes in the moment without exploring it in a coherent way. With characters like him who don’t use their words for solid explanation, visuals are especially important to convey how a character is feeling outside of said words, which Techno tends to do.

Now, this isn’t Techno’s fault in being unable to convey his specific emotions to his audience. IRL limitations are in the way of that, such as cc!Techno streaming very infrequently. With cc!Ranboo, he streams every day, so there’s time for him to introspect and to do what he wants to do in terms of lore. Minecraft is also extremely limited in specific emotions of players, which is why crouching is the closest thing to conveying fear or playfulness, and the arm motion is used for waving or expressing anger.

For c!Techno, facial expressions would be the most useful tool in explaining his internal thoughts, but he can’t show them like how he could in animation or live-action. As seen in the content created by the fans, famous Technoblade scenes will have a wide variety of facial expressions, since that would be the visual focus of his character.

I believe the reason it’s so hard for people for understand Techno as well as they could, is because he doesn’t express his feelings through words or actions, but rather a third category: his expressions, which we are unable to see due to the limitations of the game.

Actions don’t always equal true feelings, and while words are important, they can be inconsistent with how one expresses them.

So while this is the more linear form that we can expect:

In reality, it’s actually more like this:

And with the third category, the previous linear form is rather inaccurate within itself. Yes, this makes things more complicated in terms of working out how each character can portray their own morals and ideals.

But isn’t that what Dream SMP is about? Absolute insanity wrapped in different perspectives that might not be as clear as they seem?

TLDR: Technoblade is hard for me (and possibly many others) to understand due to the most important factor of his storytelling, facial expressions, being limited to nonexistent within the game Dream SMP is set in.

(Thank you so much for reading this if you got this far! I really appreciate it!)

[leebird-simmer]

Russian Fairy Tales Test Prep: Max Luthi

Max Luthi (1909-1991)

- Swiss literary theorist - specialized in folk fairy tales of Europe, not Russia specifically - published The European Folktale: Form and Nature (1947), first English translation published in 1981 - major three elements he discusses are one-dimensionality, depthlessness, and abstract style

I. One-Dimensionality

- magic is considered mundane; characters are not surprised by the existence of talking animals, enchanted objects, witches, dragons, etc. - distance is created geographically, not magically. if you travel long enough (to the faraway mountains, to the thrice ninth kingdoms, to the heart of THE WOODS), you can reach your destination. - a folk hero has no hesitation about marrying a supernatural/otherworldly bride; he notices nothing strange or disturbing about her. He is neither fearful nor curious about the numinous (that which is spiritual, religious, and/or mysterious).

II. Depthlessness

- characters have no psychological depth. Their personality traits or sentiments are expressed via action. If there is a show of emotion, it’s typically either necessary to the plot or embellishment on the part of the storyteller. - characters are fairly indifferent to the passage of time. They might age three years in the span of a sentence, but it doesn’t actually *change* them. Similarly, there’s no real development or character arc. - characters don’t have willpower; their psychological motivations are expressed through external impulses (ex. a character who needs to stay awake all night will conveniently have thorns to sit in that prick him and keep him awake). - “plot armor” protects the hero not only from death, but from incorrect actions. He will inevitably exhibit right conduct (not necessarily *ethical* or *appropriate* conduct). There are no moral dilemmas; the hero never feels reluctant or conflicted about the actions he must take. - illnesses are non-descript and unspecified; injuries & mutilations are not perceived as horrific or disabling (ex. a hero might cut off his leg to feed an allied beast and this is not considered a hardship). - the hero has no social environment. He is not embedded in a family structure or community; his relatives, friends, and allies appear or disappear as the plot dictates. If/when courtship takes place, there is no romance or affection in it. - Relationships are typically symbolized by gifts, and magical gifts are used strictly “as needed.” Before & after the crisis point, the items are forgotten.

III. Abstract Style

- the stylistic means of achieving depthlessness; only the essential is mentioned. - strict word-for-word repetition - formulaic numbering (usually trebling) is more important than drama. Favored numerals are 1, 2, 3, 7, and 12. - people/objects are described with a substance or a color (ex. “skin as white as snow”). as a rule, nouns receive one adjective. - only a few things & persons are assigned a color. Folktales prefer clear ultrapure colors: gold, silver, red, white, black. Occasionally you will see gray, although it is likely to be associated with steel or iron. Now and then blue is mentioned. Green is rarely used {I have seen it mentioned once so far in my studies}. - many things, both animate & inanimate, are described in mineral or metallic terms. Folktales prefer precious rare metals: gold, silver, copper. - otherworldly beings frequently gift the folk hero with a means of transportation. He is essentially a wanderer and almost always sets out alone. - otherworldly beings frequently live in solid houses, castles, or splendid underground lodgings (like people). - drastic metamorphoses, abrupt & unexplained, illogical - all extremes are welcomed, extreme contrasts in particular - events happen when they are convenient for the story, which has a single sharply-defined plot line. - characters have perfect timing; every time limit tends to be either used up exactly or exceeded by a narrow margin. - minor characters are defined by their functions (ex. “messengers” exist for no other purpose) - objects & situations fit together miraculously: clothing that seems tailor-made, a purse of gold that covers the exact cost of a needed item, arriving in precisely the right place, etc. - hero is assigned very specific tasks with very specific solutions, but somehow he or his advisers always know exactly what needs to be done.

Gerhart Hauptmann: “Whatever one adds to the plot is at the expense of the characters.”

[winx-reimagined]

Ships & Relationships in Winx Club| Romantic

ToC

Okay, it's obvious that a lot of the relationships in Winx Club suck. In this specfic post, I'm mainly going over romantic relationships but I'll make another for friendships & family and I'll either squeeze enemies and more gray relationships on that post or they'll have their own post.

The two biggest issue couples, Musa & Riven and Bloom & Sky. At least with Musa and Riven they both tried to better themselves. They were both toxic too, it wasn't only Riven -although it was mostly him.

Riven & Musa.

Riven's selfish, beyond rude, and of course there was that time he bretrayed them. Musa doesn't even try to understand him and she only want to argue back, she just fuels the flame. From what I've seen, neither of them have any mutual hobbies or interests, they can't communicate like friends meaning they sure as hell can't communicate as lovers. As bad as this is, if Winx was more realistic and much more mature, I feel like their relationship would be purely sexual. Which is fine in general, but not so great in a supposedly committted relationship. Just sucks that they're trying to play off a toxic and abusive relationship as "fixing the bad boy."

Speaking about committment... Bloom & Sky.

I hate this couple the most. To be fair, most of us do. At least with Riven and Musa they somewhat learned from their mistakes and were held accountable. But Sky, barely was. I can't remember a time Bloom did anything serious (although I'm pretty sure in one of the dubs for season 4, it was made obvious that she wanted to cheat on Sky), the worst she does is just get really angry -usually for no reason- and refuses to listen. But Sky literally led on two girls.

Despite how close Bloom and him were getting, he never tried to tell her the truth. I don't care if he lies about being a prince because he doesn't want the attention -which is actually pretty stupid because Eraklyon is one of the biggest kingdoms it's strange that no one recognized him like, hmm I don't know, Stella- but that isn't a good enough reason to lie to your bestfriend and girlfriend.

Now him being in an unwanted arrange marriage and cheating, sure. It's like a forbidden love trope and in my books doesn't count as cheating. And I could maybe understand him not saying anything to her since it'd most likely get her in trouble. But I still question why he has that framed picture of Diaspro on his desk 🤔, it's almost as if they're close. Hmm. Sure she could've given it to him but there's no reason he couldn't just throw it out or lay it flat.

Before I move on, I need to talk about their relationship as a whole. They're so similar. Of course, you need similarities to make any relationship work but they're like really similar. They're both peacekeepers -which is ironic to say the least-, they're both agreeable -again, ironic- and this just kind of makes their relationship really boring. Boring doesn't mean there's no drama, there's just no interest. You don't watch the relationship grow like with Stella & Brandon or Aisha & Nabu. They never have any actual conflict nor any actual arc, I can't even call it a linear relationship. How do they relate on anything? Their lives are so different, the most the could talk about is what literally happened three episodes ago. Even if they didn't have these petty issues, it's still be a bad relationship.

More about boring couples... Flora & Helia and Timmy & Tecna

I have more to say about Timmy and Tecna for a different manner but like these two couples are so boring. That's probably because they're mainly in the background. But I do think Flora and Helia are kinda cute, but their kept in the background so much, I literally don't know enough about their relationship to make an actual conclusion about them.

But Timmy & Tecna... 👀, they're okay. My most vibrant memories of their relationship is Tecna constantly calling Timmy weak, pathetic, or a coward. I don't give a fuck how angry you are at someone, that is NOT a reason to constantly abuse them like this. And it is abusive, it doesn't help that Timmy sees Tecna as amazing. He lowkey praises her.

I do like the idea of them being very "emotionless" or not being able to recipicate said emotions very well then learning to open up. This is mostly for Tecna, but there are times Timmy falls under this like when Tecna was stuck in the Phantom zo- I mean Omega dimension. He abandoned any sense of reasoning and only went off his emotions, believeing she was still alive -to be fair, he was right. I actually have very big plans for this dynamic, that mostly has to do with Tecna. I'll be making a post about Tecna's Issue soon 😉, but to say the least, he unlocks more than just her emotions. (I swear if that post comes out before this.. A/N it did)

Aisha & Nabu

Out of all of them, these two are the best relationship. Although it is EXTREMELY weird how they set them up, with Nabu stalking Aisha. The way their relationship grew was beautiful and they were about to get married but then Nabu died. Which I would've enjoyed the tragedy of it, if 1. it meant something afterwards and 2. if it wasn't the only man of color this happened to (not to mention the only black woman is the one to ignore all sense of reason and go apeshit).

Nabu is most likely going to stay alive in my version.

I almost forgot about this one... Brandon & Stella

They're cute. They're one of the best couples in the series. Really the only issue I had with them was their petty arguements which, like any Winx romantic drama, had to do with "cheating." It's stupid that they'd accuse each other of cheating if they're literally comfortable with dozens of people flirting and complienting their partner. They even compete over it. It goes to show how much they trust each other yet they still get in a tizzy when their SO stood near the opposite gender.

I've just noticed something about all the relationships. They characters are matched up with someone who is almost basically the genderbent version of themselves. Bloom & Sky; peaceloving leaders, Stella & Brandon; vain, comical characters; Musa & Riven; damaged goods, punks, and so on. It's not the worst thing you could do, but when it's for all of your characters, yes.

Just to address it, I don't have anything to say about Icy's relationship with Tritannus.

I just realized the best way to describe the Winx relationships, and it's just teenage couples. Their relationships never seem to mature except for Aisha & Nabu's relationship.

Now for the SHIPS! There's many I won't include, just because I don't want this post to be very long and I don't know too much about too many, but maybe I'll come back to them or I can just answer asks.

Were gonna start with the ones I hate :) which isn't many

p.s if you ship any of these more power to you, I just don't like these ships in particular, I'm not attacking you as people.

Bloom X Valtor...

I cannot even begin to dig into this one... alright then, let's begin. To get the moral/ethical issues out of the way. Valtor is much older than Bloom. Sure she's 18 by season 3, she's an adult in most places but it's still really gross. Besides what does a thousand year old (wait, how old is he?) have in common with an 18-year-old teenager? He helped kill, if not killed her parents. Look, forgiveness is a beautiful thing... but that's too much. It's fucking unforgivable. His very existence is to destroy the dragon flame. His like, literal reason of existence is to destroy her magic, her family, her world, HER. Ignoring the whole age thing real quick, they just wouldn't work. There's no chemistry between them that won't lead to an explosion.

Now about the intrigue in the dynamic; you know hero x villain, I get it, but the conflict in their relationship isn't romantic.

I also cannot believe one of the official winx club channels made a video for this ship. It's just...

Bloom X Darkar...

I'm pretty sure this is somewhat unpopular but it still exists, which is just like... I have no words. To be fair, I do like them, but as a platonic ship, I'll explain in the continuation of this post. Darkar is a fucking entity he's even older than Valtor. His goal, I feel, is a little less defined other than "he's doing evil things because he's evil", he's a god of darkness not fucking evil.

- I need to rant real quick, I have such an intense love-hate relationship with darkness being evil and light being good. I love it because it's easy to make out and the whole forces of good and evil really gets me going, but like I hate it cause it's always light is good and dark is bad. To be fair, I do appreciate it when it's mudded in which some light creatures turn/are evil and dark creatures turn/are good. Like if there's a lot of gray, I'm happy. Not everything is in black and white.

Anyways, they also only interacted for a short period of time and that wasn't enough for any sort of real relationship (of any sort) to bloom. Although, Darkar is like one of the nicest characters to Bloom which is strange. I get he was just using her but I'll explain later why it doesn't make sense.

These are the two romantic ships that I hate. It's mostly because of age, like if Bloom were older and Valtor was younger I could see them being an interesting enemy to lover ship, but it'd still be a stretch to me. But Bloom and Darkar I can't see romantically, but that's probably because I see them differently.

For the ones I could somewhat see or somewhat like, bruh by this point I'll have to come back and make a continuation post just called THE POTENTIAL...

SunFire, Bloom X Stella...

They're bestfriends which is already a good start, although in the series I don't think they actually act that close, it tends to be more of a rare sight. They're always supportive of eachother (that is until all attention went to Bloom) and Stella was the one to help Bloom's "gain" powers and showed her the magic dimension. Stella immense confidence would be a nice boast for Bloom, since I personally see Bloom as not being very confident in herself and having low self-esteem. They're very cute too.

Tecna X Riven...

Honestly, I think they'd work. They both have common interests for machinery (and presumably sports), they both have emotional issues that would be interesting to see them work out together. I also think they're relationship would be more interesting than their canons ones.

There's always the issue of... y'know, Riven being a piece of shit. But Tecna strikes me as a "takes no shit" type and I feel like that would be their dynamic. I also feel like Riven would like that sort of confidence.

Riven X Darcy...

I also think they'd work. I know in some dubs Darcy used her powers to control Riven, which really just feels like an excuse for his actons. But in the Rai dub, the one I grew up on (is it the original English Dub?), Darcy just had a way with words and was easily able to calm Riven down.

They seem to be able to relate to eachother, and I would like to think that, despite the finale, she still cares about him. (Also I could see them as being a trans couple, I can see both of them being trans so there's something for them to relate to)

Soundwave, Aisha X Musa...

I love this ship. They have a lot of relatability, a lot in common, and have a lot of screentime together. Musa is the one that made Aisha feel accepted in the Winx Club and they found solidarity in each other. In comparison to everyone else, they just seem so much closer and honestly I don't remember a time they fought. Except for maybe the time Nabu died, but Aisha was fighting with everyone.

Speaking of which, I would write them together if I didn't find Aisha and Nabu so cute. Of course, if he dies, yeah, she can move on and be with Musa but I don't know if I'm going to kill him. So this is honestly a huge maybe for my rewrite.

Icy X Bloom...

Honestly, they're most likely going to be canon in my rewrite.

Their similar backstories are incredibly interesting especially since they basically took two different paths. Same cause, different outcomes. Which makes their relationship and dynamic pretty thrilling since to be together they have to be on the same side, so will they be good or evil together. It's almost like a game of tug of war, if you will.

It's hard to find any common interests between them in the series and I haven't read the comics, so I'll talk more about headcanon stuff. Neither of them get what they want in life, they always seem to be unlucky. Both of them are very lonely, usually it's their own fault; and (after the first encounter with Lord Darkar, where Bloom turns evil) Icy tends to find peace in Bloom when they're not fighting. I'd imagine them both to be very artistic, Bloom loves to draw (which is something they dropped in like the first episode) and I could imagine Icy liking sculpting.

Plus, it's the rivals to lover trope, that'd could actually be a healty rivals to lover trope. Which I love, literally one of my favorite dynamics.

Diaspro X Bloom...

Damn, a lot of these have to do with Bloom.

If Diaspro were to see how bad Sky was she'd probably want to be around the one that originally called him out, Bloom. Diaspro can actually be really fucking sweet, but only to people she likes which in this case, is Bloom. Although, she'd probably be very clingy. We don't get any information about Diaspro's interests or her actual personality because she's eViL. So it's difficult to see how they'd work out.

But it'd be cute to see Diaspro teach Bloom how to be a princess and to act like a "proper lady."And to see Bloom teach Diaspro to be more free-spirited and less uptight (I'm thinking about the second Mulan movie now). I'm really tempted to have them be somewhat hinted at in the story; like Diaspro likes Bloom but Bloom doesn't like Diaspro. We'll see...

Brandon X Sky...

Similar to Bloom and Stella, they're best friends which is a good start. They seem to have known eachother for a long time. Really if anything, they're just the male version of Bloom X Stella, but like a little calmer.

Diaspro x Icy...

I've seen this ship here and there, but to be honesst I really know what I think about it. From what I remember, they don't ever interact. And I guess they can just be a villaness power couple. Or hard and soft relationship, where like Icy's a hardass and Diaspro's her surprisingly sweet significant other. Well, sweet only to her.

Stormy X Musa...

They're both punks. They'd either always butt heads or they'd always vibing together. I think they'd be kinda cute tho, just two gals being wild.

Stormy X Flora...

A hardass and a softass, since Flora's gonna be like 5'10-6'0ft in my redesign and Stormy is absolutely shorter than her; they'd be the small, angry and big, soft dynamic. And I think that's kinda cute. Plus, they're both forces of nature. I could see Stormy allowing Flora to be more chaotic and open up about her more negative emotions, especially if these emotions have to do with the rest of the Winx. And Flora could allow Stormy to chill out and be calmer, I could see Stormy picking up a gardening habit because of Flora.

This is kind out of left field, Professor Palladium X Professor Avalon

I half-jokingly, and half-actually shipped them when I rewatched season 2, then I was surprised to find that people actually ship them. And that it was kinda popular. There's really not much to go off of, but they're really cute and I just really want them to be together. Palladium seems very anxious and is really sweet and Avalon seems like he has a lot of self-esteem, I don't know where I'm going with this so make due with these observations as you please.

There's like a million more ships and maybe I'll talk more about them if some catch my eye, but I'm stopping for now. I still have to work on platonic and enmity ships.

Honestly, writing about my thoughts on these ships and canon relationships kind of opened my eyes to possible pairings. Once I'm done with all of these, I'll definitely have a lot to think about when writing these character's relationships. Oh, and sorry about the long ass post. If it's an issue, I'll just separate it into parts.

[itsclydebitches]

Voyager. Now that’s a kettle of fish. Obviously watch/enjoy whatever you wish, but I do recommend also checking out SFDebris’ reviews of the episodes (he’s the rwde of Voyager). He is a lot smarter and more eloquent than me.

Putting these two asks together since my thoughts on both are all jumbled! 

Now, I want to emphasize that I’ve only watched the first 16 episodes (Season One + Season 2 premiere), so idk if Voyager is going to go seriously downhill later on, but right now I do really like it. And not in a, “Lol yeah compared to the other crap on it’s good, I guess” way, but in a completely honest, “It has its flaws, but is overall a solid, compelling show with lovable characters” way. Out of curiosity I watched SFDebris’ review of “Phage,” though I’m afraid I didn’t agree with it. The only part were I was like, “Yeah okay” was pointing out that they had the Doctor using a keypad when he supposedly wasn’t solid, but that’s precisely the sort of continuity error that, in an otherwise strong show, I’m willing to shrug off. For all the major points, it sounds like SFDebris is concerned primarily with the show he wants Voyager to be, rather than the show Voyager actually is. Which I know sounds familiar--I’ve heard that criticism leveled at my own work: “You just want RWBY to be a totally different show”--but the difference is that Voyager is a part of an established franchise, following three other TV shows, an animated series, and a collection of films. It’s not an original show (like RWBY) that can take itself in any direction the story may need/claim to want (again, RWBY). It has a brand and those established characteristics seem to be bumping up against SFDebris’ critiques: 

Hating Neelix as a character - You’re supposed to hate him. Or at least find him frustrating (I don’t personally hate him) because that’s what all the characters are grappling with too. From Tuvok forced to have an awkward conversation while Neelix is in the bath to Janeway dealing with him taking over her dining room, Neelix’s conflict revolves around how others learn to accept him. Star Trek as a franchise is about “Infinite diversity in infinite combinations.” Voyager begins with the problem of how the trained Federation officers are supposed to work with the more violent Maquis. Difference doesn’t just create “Wow, you’re so amazing!” reactions, it also includes frustration, disagreement, and outright hostility. Creating an outsider character with a kind heart but incredibly overbearing personality is a great way to test the other characters’ convictions. Do they actually care about all life in the universe? Or do they only care about life when they personally find it palatable? Having Neelix around is a great reminder for them--and the viewer--that just because someone annoys you at times doesn’t mean they’re any less worthy of love, respect, and companionship. It also doesn’t mean they don’t have something to offer: he keeps the crew fed even if his cooking is horrible, he provides information about this area of space even if he sometimes gets it wrong, we roll our eyes at the “Morale Officer” stuff, but Neelix does provide much needed perspective for characters like Tuvok. If Neelix made fewer mistakes, stopped bugging the crew, became a “cooler” character for the audience to root for rather than be frustrated by... a lot of the point of his character would be lost. 

Frustration about discoveries not carrying over to the next episode - AKA, the crew finds inanely powerful, alien tech and then (presumably) never uses it again. This would indeed be a big problem in a serialized story (like RWBY) but Voyager maintains much of Star Trek’s original, episodic nature. Though we have continuity in the form of them inching towards home and evolving as characters, the world still resets to a certain point at the end of each episode. This is what allows Star Trek to explore so many different questions and have so many different adventures. If you demand that serialized continuity--this character needs to have an arc to deal with this traumatic experience, the crew has to follow the thread they just discovered, our Doctor needs to do something with the new tech they just found--then you lose the variety that Star Trek is known for. Instead of a new story each week (or, occasionally, across two weeks) you’ve got a single story spanning months. Neither form is better or worse than the other, it’s absolutely a preference, but there’s a very specific, structural, intentional reason why the characters “forget” about the things they’ve discovered and, at times, experienced. Unlike Ozpin forgetting that he has a nuke in his cane for seven volumes, or Ruby forgetting to use her eyes at crucial points, Star Trek deliberately sets things aside to ensure there’s room for new ideas and questions next episode. 

Janeway doesn’t kill the Vidiians to get Neelix his lungs back - No Starfleet captain would. At least, not during this period of Star Trek. Sisko has development in that regard (making morally gray choices), but that’s built into the heart of the show from the start: he’s on a station, not a starship, that is jointly run by the Federation and the Bajorans, and built by the Cardassians. The rules of the Federation always had a tenuous hold there and Sisko as a character always pushed the boundary of the Federations expectations (Q: “Picard never hit me!”) Janeway, in contrast, is 100% a Federation captain and, more importantly, has explicitly told her crew that they will be operating as a Federation vessel, despite being so far from home. That’s the conflict between the officers and the Maquis. That’s why Tuvok accepts the alien tech in “Prime Factors,” recognizing that Janeway can’t. That’s why Seska is a compelling antagonist, pressuring the crew to abandon their ideals for survival. The series (or at least that first season) revolves around questions about identity and whether they’re willing to give that identity up now that they’re out from under the Federation’s thumb. Overwhelmingly, they choose not to... which would make murdering the Vidiian a complete 180 for her character. We’re not necessarily supposed to agree with Janeway’s choice, we’re supposed to acknowledge that murdering another sentient being is not some simple choice to make, especially when you’re a leader devoted to a certain set of ideals. We’re supposed to recognize the challenges here (many of which SFDebris doesn’t acknowledge) like how you’re supposed to keep a prisoner for the next 75 years when you’re already struggling to feed and take care of the crew you have, or the fact that they claim to take organs from dead bodies and this was a rare time when they couldn’t. (It’s only in “Faces” that we learn this is complete BS and they actively kidnap people to work as slaves and then be harvested.) The frustration that Janeway doesn’t act here stems from wanting her to be a character who is, fundamentally, not a Star Trek captain. 

Granted, I only watched one review, but that’s what the whole thing felt like: wanting a series that’s not Star Trek. Something without a token, challenging character, without hand-wavy science, that’s more serialized, and doesn’t adhere to a “do no harm” code. (I just started “Initiations” and Chakotay asks a vessel to stand down three times, while actively being attacked, before finally retaliating and then he tries to reestablish communications and then he warns them about their engine and then he beams them aboard his shuttle. That’s what Star Trek (usually) is: that idealized love of life, even when that life is actively hostile). And like, that’s obviously fine! As you say, Flawartist, “watch/enjoy whatever you wish,” but just based on this one review I wonder if SFDebris just wants something other than Star Trek. 

I think one of the reasons why I feel passionately about this (beyond my love of context and recognizing when shows are actively trying to accomplish something specific) is that I went through this with DS9. For years I heard about how horrible the show was. It’s trash. It’s a mess. It’s not TNG, so don’t even bother. Or, if you do, be prepared for disappointment. There was this whole, strong rhetoric about how silly it all is--Star Trek is, by default, silly, so supposedly only the Shakespeare loving, archeology obsessed captain is sophisticated enough to save it--and then... I found nothing of the sort. I mean yeah, obviously Star Trek is silly as hell (that’s part of its charm), but DS9 was also a complex, nuanced look into everything from personal agency to the threat of genocide. There’s so much wonderful storytelling there... little of which made it into my cultural understanding of DS9. And now I’m seeing the same thing with Voyager. When I did some quick googling I was bombarded by articles saying how bad it is and now I have an ask comparing it to a show I don’t think has even a quarter of the heart the Star Trek franchise does. Which is is not AT ALL meant as a knock against you, anon. I’m just fascinated by this cultural summary of Star Trek: TOS is ridiculous but fun if you’re willing to ignore large swaths of it, TNG is a masterpiece and that’s that, DS9 is bad, Voyager is bad, and to be frank I haven’t heard much of anything about Enterprise. It’s weird! Because I watch these shows and I’m like, “Holy shit there’s so much good storytelling here.” Is it perfect? Not on your life, but it’s trying in a way that I can really appreciate. It’s Star Trek and Star Trek (at least at the time) meant something pretty specific. Criticisms about divisive characters or idealized forgiveness feel like walking out of a Fast and Furious film and going, “There was too much driving and silly combat. Why didn’t they just fix the situation in this easy way?” Because then we wouldn’t have a film about lots of driving and silly combat! If you make all the characters palatable, make Janeway harder, extend the impact of all the discoveries, remove the ridiculous science that doesn’t make any sense... then you don’t have Star Trek anymore. 

[apinkblueberry]

How to go about a Bright Fantasy?

[To Long? TLDR at the bottom]

So I have an inherent issue going forward. My D&D campaigns keep getting darker despite me not wanting them to. I am hoping to write a Bright Fantasy campaign but I am having trouble doing so in the context of a D&D campaign.

I think this is because of the inherent mechanics of D&D support a darker setting. There are many official or WOTC supported classes that tend to lean towards these darker perspectives. It's not that they can't be brighter but players that play these usually end up sending their characters down a darker path them being: Blood Hunter, Rogue, Warlock, Barbarian and very often Sorcerers. For races: Dark Elves, Half Elves, Orcs, Half Orcs, Tiefling, Dhampir, Goblins, Goliath, Aasimar, Bugbear, Hobgoblin, Kenku, Kobold and Changeling. Now that may be just my experience but I think both lists should give some perspective. Now many of you may say that they are not inherently dark and I would agree but I think many players just enjoy the darker perspective of this sort of character.

Blood Hunter is pretty clear, the concept boils down to controlling people and becoming more monstrous to kill monsters. It is by no means a bad class but it does rather strongly tend towards darker characters. If you don't believe me I encourage you to Google Blood Hunter and just look at images. Rogues I personally dont think have to be dark but their tendency towards Stealth by far tends to lean people towards playing them darker and playing them with that perspective in mind. Warlocks in my experience tend to play off a dark patron and a darker world as a result. Looking at the Player Handbook subclasses for Warlock: Archfey, not inherently dark but many tend to lean towards characters like the Fairy King who tend to be quite dark rather than a brighter fey, The Fiend, I mean Demons I suppose they could be written brighter but that writing is rather rare, and Great Old One, ah yes what part of Lovecraftian horror isn't bright. Barbarians are often played as dumb brutes who only care about bashing things to death. Now by no means is this the rule but in my experience thats how people tend to play their characters. For Sorcerers very often how their power emerges in their backstory often kills loved ones and does a lot of damage. I personally see why but I think that it can very often lead to a darker character. I won't go over every race but I can make a seperate post later on if some of those aren't clear. They just tend towards darker characters.

This is by no means me saying that dark characters are a bad thing because it isn't but it does make the campaign darker as the campaign should be centered on the characters. So now the issue is how does one while still using D&D and not blocking half the classes from the players do a brighter fantasy setting. In addition, there are very few resources online for writing better bright fantasy but if you search on Youtube Not Grimdark Fantasy you get a series of Grimdark resources. Now obviously it sees the Tag Grimdark but seach Bright Fantasy you get a song. My point is there are limited resources for a Brighter setting but many on a darker one. So how do we go about writing a brighter world, unless anyone has found a brighter title I'm calling it Bright Fantasy. This is because Grimdark is Dark Fantasy so the opposite would inherently be Bright Fantasy.

Well, one primary example of a brighter Fantasy is the earlier pokemon games. For many of these pokemon they use bright and colorful animations and have fun cute stories. Now obviously there are many with dark Poke Entries but to find those you have to dig. The bad guys tend to be evil without really any remorse or if they have a reason its completely ridiculous like Team Magma and Aqua. But, and I recognize many people will be frustrated by this sentence, Generation 4 was the generation to move away from this brighter fantasy. You can catch several gods and even move through the distortion world and even catch the embodiment of death. Now its still a great game, however, from that point on in the series it never really returns to that brighter beginning. It seems like a lot of series that start bright turn dark. Obviously comic books are a great example where now everyone wants to be Dark Knight x Watchman. Even Jak and Daxter the first game is a very bright game but by the second it becomes super dark and depressing where Jak's first words are about murder.

So let me ask, how do I move my campaigns in more of a direction of Bright Fantasy. Some major elements that many stories use to move to a brighter setting is brighter characters. I can make the NPCs brighter but if the main cast is inherently a dark group than the bright fantasy will be too contradictory. It would be like Anakin Skywalker in the land of Teletubbies. Many stories add visuals that are brighter and more pastel colors but since I dont use maps and the like that would be very difficult to do. Many of the things used in other stories aren't options here so if you have any ideas please let me know.I almost forgot one final thing. Villains. So Grimdark villains tend to be morally gray but they do things so bad they can't be forgiven. Brighter Fantasy villains tend to be evil for the sake of being evil so that is something I may use but if the rest of the campaign isn't bright then it may just come off as edgy for the sake of being edgy.

TLDR? It's hard to do a a campaign of a brighter tone because so many mechanics inherently lean for a darker tone, so how do I write a Bright Fantasy in DnD?