#but that doesn't change the fact that even if my fantasies i had a master or a doctorate

[supersummer01]

Are your sissy desires compatible with your male desires?

Decide if your sissy and masculine desires are compatible.

Some desires will be compatible and some will be antagonist. These are the pros and the cons of becoming a sissy. You'll know when you have compatible desires when they can be tied together with the word \"and, \" desires that are antagonistic are tied together with the word \"but.\" This is really easy to figure out. For example Your sissy side wants to get on hormones that shrink your dick but your masculine side still wants to fuck chicks. Antagonistic since you have a conflict tied by the word \"but.\" On the other hand if you say; \"I need to shape my butt to be a sexy sissy, and being fit makes me a happier guy.\" Then you have a compatible desire between your sissy and masculine desires.

More serious conflicting desires are:

I want to have sex with men but I don't want to cheat on my wife.

I want a master but I hate being submissive.

I want to show off my sissy side but I'm afraid of what would happen to my career/family if anyone ever found out.

If in the end you can weigh up all your desires and decide that the negatives are outweighed by the positives then you should consider the sissy lifestyle and start taking steps towards it. If for you the cons outweigh the pros then you need to take a step back, not think with your dick, and take a good hard look at what you would lose if you became a sissy and think long and hard about if you would really be happy if you made those sacrifices.

Would becoming a sissy help you or hurt you?

Becoming a sissy is to make a huge lifestyle change and one that's impossible to hide. You can hide being gay, you can hide being a racist, but you can't hide haircuts, fingernail polish, and makeup. In many cases the lifestyle change doesn't really tip the scales in either direction, however in some it can mean the total loss and alienation of the person trying to become a sissy. Once someone goes down the path of having a broken support network, they often go down a dark road in life. On the other hand though, some men become sissies and become much happier in life. You need to decide if the outcome of your decision to become a sissy will help or hurt you in life.

For example. You might become a sissy and meet new friends, have great sex and improve your self esteem. But at the same time your family would disown you, your partner leave you, and your boss would fire you. You absolutely must consider the implications of coming out of the sissy closet before you ever start working to become a sissy.

I'm disgusted with myself for cumming to my sissy fantasies.

If you feel a revulsion towards yourself after you cum then you are experiencing a strong warning sign that becoming a sissy is not necessarily a wise choice for you. It's your brain throwing up a big warning sign that what you are doing is going to have a strong psychological impact.

Many men love to jerk off to the taboo and extreme, even if they have no intention of actually doing the things they fantasize or watch. In many of the cases of guys who think they are into becoming a sissy, they are often forgetting this fact. Most sissies felt \"right\" when they found sissy porn or the sissy lifestyle. They either weren't bothered by their interest or didn't care. Many men that engage in cross-dressing are doing so despite having no interest or reason to become a sissy. If you fall into either the camp of fetishists or being disgusted with yourself after cumming to sissy fantasies, then you probably shouldn't take on the commitment of being a sissy.

Conclusion.

In the end becoming a sissy can be one of the greatest things in life for some people. But I've also heard horror stories of transgender women who thought that they wanted to be something that they were not only to discover that everything they already had is gone, and what they wanted wasn't so great. It may seem exciting to become a sissy, but you really need to ask yourself why you want to become one and if it's right for you.

If in the end you decide that becoming a sissy is a good fit for you there are plenty of great guides and people that will help you achieve your highest good as a sissy. The communities are full of great people. If you do decide to be a sissy I wish you luck and welcome you into the sisterhood.

[blackswampotter]

Season 1 of The Acolyte is over and I have some thoughts. A lot of thoughts, actually.

Acolyte spoilers below

What a weird show

I ultimately end up feeling the same way I did early on; it's a pretty average show with some great action held back by clunky dialogue, poor pacing, and several fairly dull characters.

And, I could probably leave it there, but I feel like that would ignore a lot of the most interesting elements.

Some of the show's best moments and emotional beats are centered around the character of Master Sol and his death and posthumous betrayal works really, really well. It's probably the most effective thing in the show and gave some genuine pathos to the last episode.

Osha and Mae swapping roles - something started in episode 5 - was also a compelling direction for the show.

Osha's fall to the dark side feels very unique compared to some we've seen before and I think it's because the show positions the Jedi as the antagonists in the end.

It's not framed as tragic, it's framed as brave and almost righteous in a twisted way. As though she's finally becoming who she was really meant to be.

But, you can't really talk about Osha and Qimir without talking about the Reylo sized elephant in the room...

The sequel trilogy had lightning in a fucking bottle with these two. Their chemistry is unreal and the pining, longing glances sell you on the enemies to lovers direction they were moving in.

In the end, Reylo sort of fizzled out with TRoS being unwilling to fully commit to, well, much of anything. But, the Reylo fandom was, and still is, massive.

With The Acolyte, Leslye Headland appears to be trying to capitalize on that kind of dynamic and it's just nowhere near as compelling.

Part of that is the lack of tension between them. Qimir feels so toothless compared to Kylo. Rey and Kylo push against one another. There's hostility, fear, and even some spite.

But, Qimir is just there to facilitate Osha's story. He doesn't feel like an independent actor playing off Osha in an interesting way.

Their dynamic feels like a sanitized and sanded down version of Reylo without any of rough edges that actually made Reylo compelling.

Finally, there's the Glup Shitto of it all.

So, somebody who looks an awful lot like Legends Darth Plagueis shows up for five seconds and I imagine that's going to be the biggest point of discussion online.

It's hilarious because he's just sort of there, poking his head around the corner like he's part of the goddamn Scooby gang.

My initial prediction was that Qimir was going to be revealed to be a Knight of Ren (Kylo's theme can be heard when he shows up), but now I'm wondering if he is, in fact, being trained by Plagueis.

Perhaps he and Osha will break away from Plagueis in season 2 and create the Knights of Ren, but that's assuming we get a season 2.

The response to this show has been disgusting from the beginning. Just mountains of idiots who hate anything with diversity and go out of their way to read everything in the most bad faith way possible.

I don't even think the show is all that great, but it's not because there are women and people of color in it.

It's kind of ironic then that this show, in a lot of ways, gives that crowd exactly what they've always wanted - over the top saber action, high fantasy Jedi/Force stuff, and Darth Plagueis.

I guess we'll see if they change their tune or if their whinging is enough to prevent a season 2 from being greenlit, because I honestly think the show deserves to keep going, even if I think it's pretty far from perfect.

[writing-frenzy]

Mob Protag Ichigo and the Puppet Master (UraIchi Isekai Idea :3 )

So yeah, for anyone who's read my first idea with the Kurosaki Fam Isekai, they'll know all the stuff that has inspired this and that I've already mentioned an idea with a Mob Character!Ichigo and a Puppet Master Benihime (AKA Urahara Kisuke)

Let us set the scene :3

How will Ichigo go to a fantasy world, especially with how he is? Well, as Ichigo was growing up, one of his sisters was really, really sick; they weren't sure if she was going to make it tbh. Ichigo did all he could, but being a little guy, there wasn't much he could do. One day, he came upon a weird being who said they could grant wishes; Ichigo immediately asks if they can make his little sister healthy. The being said yes after a moment, but it will cost him a peaceful afterlife. Ichigo takes the deal, the being is admittedly touched by this child's goodness and unselfish desire, because for such a sweet child, they know of death and the loss it brings already. So the being actually doesn't twist the wish like so many others he does, letting the children live out their natural lifespans in peace.

All is well, until a 17 year old Ichigo saves his other sister and her friend from dying to a truck. Our World's Divine Being is like; damn, you still had way, way more life span and time than you should have to had died now... but since you have a contract, I can't just let you survive :/ eh, I'll use it to at least give you perks to survive your reincarnation in that hell hole. (not to mention how they too are actually touched, they're a sucker for loving families)

Ichigo: wut

Godly Being: *throws a book series and some powers at him* Wish you luck out there!

After feeling just a bit violated and like someone was digging around in his head and blood, Ichigo wakes up in an abandoned house in some modern looking steampunk like city. Looking around he doesn't have much but some basics for survival, weird as heck items, and a book series. Not much to do, he reads the series, which answers a whole lot of questions even as makes Ichigo scowl like a thundercloud.

See, this is a very, very dark fantasy like series, it's gonna have all the canon Bleach fighting and gore but with magical surprises and such, with a very, very bittersweet ending. It's kinda like a modern setting meets with a very eco-friendly way because the world will crush those it sees trying to abuse it (mother nature don't play around here) so it's kinda steam/water/wind/solarpunk. Don't know who I want as the OG Story's protag to be, maybe Rukia or one of the Karakura Kids, but it follows them in a world were contracts/pacts/deals with spiritual beings is over everything; it can be with weapons, it can be with bloodlines or any such. Not all pacts and such are unequal, some in fact are real and true bonds, the pact bound loyal to their contractors to obsession... others, it is is very much a thing of slavery and torture, which can go both ways depending on what was exactly contracted.

Ichigo goes about trying to figure out his own contract/pact thing, which while so long ago, is just something he has never been able to forget, seemingly inscribed onto his very soul in a way. He knows he was picked because his soul was the most compatible for the spirits the being wanted for him, and he already knows its going to change his body as well, but it still confuses him.

(maybe something like;

A mix of holy power and darkness that would find most be consumed,

Flames properly controlled that can reach the moon,

Cut it from the sky and devour it if so desired,

But yet all one wants is to protect their own wary lost and life tired,

For One such as you a power so great is to be entrusted,

It will find you, change you, leave your life chain broken and rusted,

In Time it will be shown if you can make this power your own,

But already, your fate has sown.)

(LOL, this is Ichigo, he's gonna break his fate and make friends with his Hallow and Ossan, because I love the idea of the three together again in this au :3 later tho)

But yeah, so Ichigo is figuring things out, especially with controlling his body once more because his strength went a bit wonky, but I also like the idea of a different weapon Ichigo if that makes sense? Like, he will still be an op power house, but the thought of him using spells and martial arts makes me grin evilly? Like, with his Hollow more bonded later, he can make claws come out to rip soft bellies apart and such. And Ossan just insists he learn a bow for those times he needs long range and such, even if he gets a bit despairing when Ichigo occasionally gets too frustrated and just throws the damn arrow (all three in Ichigo's head are quiet whenever the move proves highly effective, which is always.) Oh, but now I can't help but think of Childe from Genshin Impact's fighting style :D maybe instead of blades though, Ichigo switches to a hand to hand with bracers of some sort covering his arms that are hard as fuck, easy to move around in because of magic.

But ah, getting sidetracked again, this all comes later down; for now, Ichigo is still figuring shit out, avoiding protagonists and co because yeah, people not protected by plot armor tend to die really, really messily around them and he still can't do jack right now (doesn't mean he doesn't do what he can, even if its just simple things like helping the elderly, making sure kids get home safe, or even knocking out some regular thugs harassing some ladies.

Ichigo, despite all his scowls and looks, still draws people in with his kindness and protective nature in this dark, lonely otherworld.)

Its as he's helping someone shopping, this sweet little lady who goes on and on about her sweet grandbaby, that Ichigo goes to the Urahara Shoten for the first time; not much gets his attention, besides the fact that the protagonist has only been here once or twice in the early chapters for some odds or ends, this place being some mixture of candy/pawn/tea shop.

But then something in the shop resonates with him; with his very soul. Looking around, Ichigo tells the sweet grandma he'll be right back, and call him when she's done, to which she gives a cheerful reply before Ichigo goes off, looking high and low before he finds a strange book and block with it, like a set. Picking it up, it just feels so damn right... till he looks at the price tag and cringes. While he has odd jobs here and there to help him out, it's just enough money for him to live with since he doesn't have to worry about rent with his questionable abandoned house, covering his food expenses and the public bath fee.

"Find something you like dear customer?" is said from behind him, which makes Ichigo jump like a few feet into the air, clutching his book and block set to his chest, before turning to the one who startled him.

And so thus the first meeting with Urahara Kisuke, Geta-boshi as Ichigo likes to call him. After a bit of back and forth between the two, Ichigo admits he can't afford the book and block set, too which Urahara merely hums, eyes oddly shadowed from his hat as he considers that. one thing leads to another and somehow Ichigo not only gets the set but even a steady job at the shop, even if his paycheck will be cut because of said set. And sure, Geta-boshi is sus as fuck, but Ichigo doesn't sense any ill will from the man, not too mention the man even helps him with understanding the book, a soul book as its called, which strengthens souls and their contracts, enabling them to get a growing weapon called an Asauchi that transforms with the soul. Its not bad.

On Kisuke's part, he is actually pretty intrigued by Kurosaki, this youth who carries the potential of a predator but the heart of a protector, actually reacting to the soul book and Asauchi Kisuke had made more for curiosity and boredom then to actually make a functional weapon. Not to mention just how much fun it is too mess with Ichigo, the boy shows he has a clever mind and a strength that just seems to constantly grow more and more. Kisuke is actually considering just how he can possibly use this youth for his goals, wondering if he can be the chest piece he needs to finally topple the king in this game between Puppet Master Benihime and Greater Lord Aizen.

Ichigo does know about Puppet Master Benihime from the story, they were a neutral character only focused on making sure the world would not collapse, no matter the amount that would be needed to be sacrificed in the end. But in the story, it only ever showed Benihime herself, never even mentioning that she was actually contracted, and 100% loyal to said contractor, so Ichigo has no clue about just how scary his mentor is at first, besides when the man actually did finally spar with him and Ichigo couldn't even get a hit on him. In this world, these two have a bit more time, a bit more room to act, and with it they bond, much to Kisuke great surprise even as he still plans to use him.

So things happen, things are reveled, discoveries are had, and Kisuke goes to Ichigo, confirming that he knows.

And then he kneels before this youth; he kneels and apologizes, thinking and knowing in his soul he's done something unforgiveable, thinking he won't be forgiven and fine with that as long as Ichigo still lives well... only for Ichigo to actually forgive, just like that, just because he could tell Kisuke meant it, scowling still but most of all accepting.

Its a good thing Kisuke was already kneeling because that alone would have made him bow just from the sheer acceptance and warmth Ichigo just seems to shine with. Ichigo has no idea just what he's done, who's utter loyalty and trust he has secured, and Kisuke will kill, die, and live for this boy, he just has to say the word. Even with all the people Ichigo has gathered, from villains to protagonist, people who are loyal and true if to no one else but him, Kisuke feels blessed he can be included, can be trusted even over the others to always remain at Ichigo's back and protect it no matter what.

In return, Ichigo looks up to Kisuke as both a mentor, ally, friend, and after an interesting dream, a damn annoying crush he can not get rid of, going strong for years (no longer a crush then but let him deny it for a bit). Parts of him wants to devour this man whole, never share him with the world, but Ichigo is such a being of freedom he could never dream to rip such a thing from someone else. (Kisuke being Kisuke wouldn't mind if its Ichigo tho >:3 All Ichigo has to do is ask, and this man would give him the world, Benihime right behind him.)

I feel like this story would be a slow burn but not if that makes sense? like, there is a tension from the very beginning of the story to Demi-romantic/sexual Ichigo's awakening of shit, so that's what that feels like (Fight me on this, I will defend it to the grave Very Demi!Ichigo)

But yeah, so far that's it for my Bleach Ideas :D hope you enjoyed them and stuff.

[yes-i-write-fanfiction]

Ok, so I have an idea for a Necron OC. His name is Zhebrek (pronounced c-heh-brick) and he is the overworked assistant to Trazyn the Infinite. Loyal subordinate but god, he's tired. Not physically of course, he's made out of metal and neither can or doesn't need sleep, but mentally.

Trazyn always has him on his feet, constantly barking orders at him. "Get me this, change that, arrange this, grab me that" over and over and all Zhebrek can do is go "Yes my lord, of course, at once my lord" because Trazyn is their master and he's the only one they got in this hellhole of a universe. Not to mention he's a total pushover.

Hasn't had a single day off in millions of years and deserves a vacation real bad. He wants to go to a paradise world and just enjoy the beach. So what if he can't get a tan? He wants to live out his fantasies! He wants to feel the sand between his metallic toes and listen to the sound of ocean waves!

Officially, it is his job to take care of Trazyn's vast and numerous collections, a never ending task, especially when one considers the fact that Trazyn is always adding more to them. Zhebrek labels them, documents them, arranges them, makes sure that everything is organized exactly the way his master likes it. That's what he signed up for, back when he was still made out of flesh and had a soul, to be a museum curator of softs. But Trazyn has pushed even more work unto him during his millions of years of duty.

Now, Zhebrek organizes meetings with other high ranking Necrons, keeps track of Trazyn's schedule (whatever that is), serves as his unofficial ambassador and house carl. Long story short, Zhebrek makes sure that Trazyn's life goes on as flawless as possibly. And he's very good at his job which sadly, only means that Trazyn keeps on giving him more and more tasks.

Then there's his other unofficial job as Trazyn's personal errand boy. Trazyn just loves sending him out on missions across the galazy, telling him to fetch objects of interest for his collection. Most objects, of course, are heavily guarded and/or can be found in the most remote corners of the galaxy. More often than not, Zhebrek has to bring with him several armed forces to safely retrieve whatever it is that his master wanted.

After serving Trazyn for so long, Zhebrek can predict his orders. Most of the time. There are times where Trazyn will really say something that messes up his whole, elaborate schedule that they have created inside of their mind.

As a fairly high ranking Necron, Zhebrek is more ornate and detailed than the common drone. While tall compared to a human, he is shorter than Trazyn. His appearance matches his lord to signify his eternal service and Trazyn likes to call Zebrek his "mini-me".

[iconuk01]

Icon_UK muses on Discworld scenes

I would be VERY hard pushed to state my favourite scene in the Discworld books. There are so many magnificent scenes, memorable characters, and dialogue to make your heart weep with so many emotions, but favourite entire scene, that's hard?

Death and Susan's discussion about the need for fantasy is, of course, high up that list. No one who reads it ever forgets "To be the place where the falling angel, meets the rising ape", but is that my favourite?

It might be Granny Weatherwax's discussion of religion with Mightily Oats in "Carpe Jugulum".

But I think I have to give it to a minor scene in "Lords and Ladies" involving a regular character in the Witches books who doesn't get much page count, and this may in fact be their longest single scene in all the books, and it's such a GOOD one!

Jason Ogg, master blacksmith and farrier, pumped the bellows of his forge once or twice for the look of the thing, and sat down on his anvil again. It was always warm in the forge, even with the wind whistling around the eaves.

"He could shoe anything, could Jason Ogg. They'd brought him an ant once, for a joke, and he'd sat up all night with a magnifying glass and an anvil made out of the head of a pin. The ant was still around, somewhere-some-times he could hear it clatter across the floor.

But tonight. . . well, tonight, in some way, he was going to pay the rent. Of course, he owned the forge. It had been passed down for generations. But there was more to a forge than bricks and mortar and iron. He couldn't put a name to it, but it was there. It was the difference between being a master farrier and just someone who bent iron in complicated ways for a living. And it had something to do with iron. And something to do with being allowed to be very good at his job. Some kind of rent.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Jason dons a blindfold, awaiting the arrival of a late night visitor, one whose feet make a click-clack sound as he walks across the floor, doesn't seem to breathe, and who TALKS LIKE THIS. He has a horse needing new horseshoes.

Which Jason does (the blindfold being no challenge to his skills) whilst maintaining polite (and extremely respectful) small talk with his visitor, whilst internally acknowledging that he does not wish to know who his visitor is, depsite knowing EXACTLY who he is.

The final exchange is my very favourite in the whole series, as Jason gives in to inevitable temptation.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“M'lord?”

YES, MR. OGG?

“I 'as got one question . . .”

YES, MR. OGG?

Jason ran his tongue over his lips.

“If I were to . . . take the blindfold off, what'd I see?”

There. It was done now.

There was a clicking sound on the flagstones, and a change in the air movement which suggested to Jason that the speaker was now standing in front of him.

ARE YOU A MAN OF FAITH, MR. OGG?

Jason gave this some swift consideration. Lancre was not knee-deep in religions. There were the Nine Day Wonderers, and the Strict Offlians, and there were various altars to small gods of one sort or another, tucked away in distant clearings. He'd never really felt the need, just like the dwarfs. Iron was iron and fire was fire - start getting metaphysical and you were scraping your thumb on the bottom of your hammer.

WHAT DO YOU REALLY HAVE FAITH IN, RIGHT AT THIS MOMENT?

He's inches away, Jason thought. I could reach out and touch . . .

There was a smell. It wasn't unpleasant. It was hardly anything at all. It was the smell of air in old forgotten rooms. If centuries could smell, then old ones would smell like that.

MR. OGG?

Jason swallowed.

“Well, m'lord,” he said, “right now . . . I really believe in this blindfold.”

GOOD MAN. GOOD MAN. AND NOW . . . I MUST BE GOING.

Jason heard the latch lift. There was a thud as the doors scraped back, driven by the wind, and then there was the sound of hooves on the cobbles again.

YOUR WORK, AS ALWAYS, IS SUPERB.

“Thank you, m'lord.”

I SPEAK AS ONE CRAFTSMAN TO ANOTHER.

“Thank you, m'lord.”

WE WILL MEET AGAIN.

“Yes, m'lord.”

WHEN NEXT MY HORSE NEEDS SHOEING.

“Yes, m'lord.”

Jason closed the door and bolted it, although there was probably no point, when you thought about it.

But that was the bargain - you shod anything they brought to you, anything, and the payment was that your could shoe anything.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

I love that the Discworld's anthropomorphic manifestation of a universal inevitability speaks to a village blacksmith as an equal, as a craftsman, to be acknowledged and respected as such. There's something gorgeous in that combination of the mundane and the cosmic.

And the subtle little "reward" Jason gets from his customer as he leaves, an assurance that the next time they meet it will still be as "blacksmith" and "customer", not "recently departed" and "collector of souls"? Sublime.

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

Chat writes the plot! Time for more 👑🐲🐟 KotD!

🔥🔥 don't forget to reblog tysm! 🔥🔥

Want to be on the tag list? -> Comment with 'tag me!' Have an idea for next chapter or clicked the wrong option? -> Reblog about it! Check the bottom for the Ao3 link. Latest chapter is below the cut!🔥

~King of the Dragonfish: Chapter 18~

Obi-Wan wakes himself up with a powerful sneeze. He groans, long and low. The sudden jerk of it sends a flash headache searing through his skull like a forest fire. As the pain fades, he realizes that everything aches, and his respiratory system feels scratchy from the back of his throat down into his chest.

Oh bother. He's caught a bug, one potent enough to overcome a jedi's natural immunity to illness. Or, equally likely, he's just that worn down.

The only good part of waking, relatively speaking, is that he's alone and somehow… on a mattress..?

Obi-Wan rolls his head to look at the situation. His vision lags behind the turn of his eyes, making him nauseous, and moving makes his scalp flare in warning. He closes his eyes and breathes for a moment, drawing the force to him in the same way a weaver might run their fingers through freshly sheared wool. It flows through him, and begins bolstering his body against the sickness.

Settled a bit, the jedi opens his eyes to try again. Carefully.

He is still in Maul's private chambers, but that doesn't change the fact that beneath him is a futon mattress, like he'd seen on daybeds in fancy guest rooms. It was thicker than his own pallet in the temple, and zipped up in a soft, removable cover. This is what he lays on.

Obi-Wan has the stray thought that it really needed proper sheets. He sets a hand on his face, and sighs at himself. No, wrong, what it needed was to go back where it came from, just like him.

Cautious, slowly, the jedi master sits up and looks around. He is nonplussed to see his clothes are gone, and confused but interested to notice a literal bottle of water set beside the bed. What he does not see is a sith lord turned deep sea creature.

The memory of claws comes to him, deadly sharpness trailing down his back in the gentle touch of a prospective lover. Obi-Wan droops where he sits. Unfair. This is all utterly unfair.

Maul had become something out of a fantasy. The idea of him, deep under the sea, pining for years to take his revenge, only to change his mind at the sight of his mortal enemy, and instead kidnap them away to be lovers? It was a the plot of a one credit bodice ripper novella, and the force hasn't even seen fit to give him a bodice to wear while, apparently, living it.

Blast it, where are his clothes?

Obi-Wan stares down at his calloused fingers, each digit a little paler than usual. They're dry and cracked from repeated dunks in salt water. The texture of his own fingertips distracts him.

‘I might be disassociating a bit,’ the stewjoni thinks to himself while rubbing his thumbs and forefingers together. ‘I’ve stumbled into somewhere between nightmares and dreams, and my options to deal with it are so few.’

He sighs softly, being open and forgiving with himself.

‘I want to have sex with the man that killed Qui-Gon,’ he mulls wryly, ‘if I make it out of here alive, I think that merits a trip to the mind healers for a guided deep dive of my psyche.’

Obi-Wan chuckles a little, but stops quickly when even that makes a flash headache shred at his brain.

‘Indeed, a good long look. In the meantime… I…’

The jedi draws his knees up, feeling them tremble with fatigue, until he can set his head against the sailcloth over his thighs. He leans there, bonelessly.

Obi-Wan feels cold, but is he actually? Is it emotional cold, fever cold, brisk air on naked skin, or true chill?

Blast it, but he wants Maul to come back. And that is a terrible sign.

Obi-Wan shivers a bit where he sloughs against his legs, just accepting the fact that he wants to be held and petted and treasured and doted on by his own personal monster. It is, most likely, a completely normal reaction to being ill, to want those things. Yes, it really is, isn't it? He exhales heavily, and just lets the truth of it be.

Obi-Wan refuses to cross that line, to consummate this foolhardy preoccupation with his own jailor, but, these feelings are still valid and reasonable.

He feels better for acknowledging it.

Now onto matters of the physical.

Gingerly, the sick jedi eases himself over to get a hold on the water bottle, drawing back and cracking it open. He sniffs it, questioning the water's potability. It's stale, but clean tasting. To his scratchy throat it's a little painful, and a little soothing. He dearly wishes it was tea with honey and lemon.

The jedi drinks half, then recaps the bottle and sets it aside in favor of lowering himself back down onto the futon. If asked, Obi-Wan would swear that he merely closes his eyes for but a moment…

He blinks muzzily, and comes around to fingers carding through his hair. Claw tips slide back over his scalp, so gently it almost tickles.

“Kenobi,” the sith calls, soft and singsong, “Keno… bi~.”

“Mmnnnh,” he replies, feeling the length of Maul's tail pressed against him under the covers. He is dry, sleek scales like rounded glass. One of his pelvic fins rests on Obi-Wan's hip, lightly holding on to him, while the silky upper caudal fins that trail the sith are draped over his legs under the sail cloth and tarp. They're soft. Smooth. When Maul shifts they flutter against the skin of his ankles pleasantly.

Obi-Wan is, once again, wrapped up in the arms and fins of the very same ‘dragonfish king’ he was sent to kill. With an incredible amount of ‘fuck it’ energy, he noses forward under Maul's chin.

“I'm a bit sick,” he admits.

“Hnnn… your flushed cheeks and reddened eyes told me so already,” the other man says, still toying with his hair.

“I want tea,” he sighs, “with honey and lemon. My throat hurts.”

Maul makes this… incomprehensible noise. Not human, not zebrak. In the force he feels… pleased?

“Making wishes of me now?” the sith murmurs, “I suppose I could share one or two, seeing as I have three but do not need any of them.”

...what?

Obi-Wan pulls away to look at him with all the skepticism his dizzy self can muster. Maul smiles back, a cruel twist of lips framed by the most charming dimples imaginable.

He is stunned. This is Obi-Wan's excuse for why he doesn't move away when the sith captures his lips, biting oh so gently at him with his needle-like teeth, then licking his way across and inside.

Obi-Wan lets it happen, eyes drifting closed as he reciprocates slowly. Oh. Kissing makes his head feel better. Whatever chemistry that's about, it's working.

“That's it, jedi mine,” the sith croons to him, “taste me in return, and I will bring you tea.”

Well if it's for a good cause.

Tentatively, Obi-Wan licks at Maul's lips. They're thin but plush, utterly normal if wider than before his transformation. The other man hums, encouraging, the tip of that long pink tongue flicking playfully against his.

Obi-Wan chases it as the slick muscle recedes, finding the pointed tips of Maul's new teeth. He explores them with care, finding out which of his experiences with making out can and cannot apply.

He finds a good angle and pumps his tongue into that wet heat, slickness sliding against slickness. Obi-Wan's head twinges with the movement, but he's a bit too enthralled to care.

Maul makes, just, the sweetest little noise. Begging. Needful. Obi-Wan feels himself stiffening, his cock pressed to Maul's belly where skin fades to scale.

Oh dear. Now that is quite enough of that indulgence.

With one light kiss of the traditional sort, Obi-Wan pulls back and relaxes onto the mattress with a sigh. He watches yellow-green eyes blink open, pupils blown and slow to focus.

“Very good,” the sith tells him, trailing the backs of his fingers down Obi-Wan's face. “You will learn that I keep my promises, Kenobi.”

“If you bring me bread of some kind that hasn't been drowned in salt water, I'll do that again.”

Maul chuckles, sliding out from under the makeshift covers. “You see? Gifts are a good way to show favor.

The jedi would roll his eyes if he wasn't a hundred percent certain it would feel like an icepick in his brain to do so.

To be continued...

-Tag list- (Comment if you want added!)

@obimaulartfire @savageopressbignaturals @icequeen8043 @moonsickvampire @maulish @obi1-kenobae @milkcioccolato @cyborg0109 @krazykupid @messy-sunbeam

New? Start from Chapter 1! 👇🏽

[bronzeageyuri]

okay one more h.ades fic this is a thesterius one and one of my favs that i've made... it's mostly a comedy / "fluff" but it does also discuss Internalized Racism (💔) there's also some very small suggestive moments

this was basically at attempt at making an in-universe reason for why theseus' portrait in game doesn't really Look like him (though the real world reason is simply that it's recycled concept art)

When the vile hellspawn sauntered into the arena, and announced to Theseus that he’d commissioned a portrait of the king during his princehood, he at first thought of it as a foolish attempt at a diversion. That Zagreus— did his vile schemes have no end? It was not the first time he’d attempted to drive Theseus into a tortuous  rage, and it certainly would not be the last. And besides that, what use did he have for such a painting? As Theseus once again pierced Zagreus’ flesh with his ruby spear, and once again sent him back to the bowels of hell, he concluded that his words must have been nothing but lies. One day or night, however, the Lord Hades called Theseus to his dank house for a performance review (it was brief, of course. Lord Hades had his complaints, but the simple fact of that matter is that there was no one else within Blessed Fields who desired the title of champion). Not yet ready to return to Elysium, he wandered around the place, observing the many changes that had occurred in the time between his last visit and now. Upon entering the small west hall (and passing by the Great Achilles who had dismissed him with I’m working right now, King Theseus…), he found a piece of his own legacy hanging upon the wall there. The portrait was familiar: a near perfect replica of one he'd posed for in life. His father Aegeus had commissioned it soon after claiming Theseus as his son, but it was not completed until after his return from Crete.  Despite this it was still completed with his father's specifications in mind, to honour him after his untimely death; the prince within the portrait had his ambiguities removed, and therefore looked rather unlike Theseus. One would mistake the fantasy-prince as being a grandchild of Pandion, with his pale skin and smaller nose. But the Theseus of reality shared no blood with the former king.

He remembers the discomfort he felt at the time, feelings he wasn't able to put into words.  Aegeus had wanted his son to look like a proper prince, but what exactly did those words mean? To this day, he didn’t know. Theseus scowled. Were the painting not rightful property of the underworld’s lord and master, he would have gladly pried it from the wall and tossed it into the Styx to drown. All he could do for now was leave and hope that next time he appeared, it would be replaced with something more tasteful. -----------------------------------

When Theseus returned home, Asterius was sitting outside, half buried in their garden of wildflowers. The bull held in his hands a large book, its pages decorated with golden detailing. Butterflies of shimmering light would occasionally flitter onto his horns, then leave just as fast. Theseus’ heart swelled at the sight. How fortunate he was to have Asterius in his life! He didn’t have many kind words for his prince-self, but he could appreciate that even back then, he sensed that there was something special about Asterius. Theseus stood before him, then dropped down to his haunches. Asterius’ ears twitched in response. “Asterius, my dear friend… what are you reading?” Asterius looked up. His head tilted inquisitively, but if he noticed something amiss, he did not mention it. “A lone warrior is attempting to rescue a princess. But it is not his true quest.” “Oh yes? May I read it alongside you?” Asterius patted the ground beside himself, inviting Theseus to sit. He wasted no time positioning himself next to Asterius with his head resting against the bull’s sturdy shoulder. Theseus listened closely as the bull read out loud to him. It was something they’d done more times than he could count, often with Theseus voicing the most theatrical characters. For now, however, all he wanted to do was be comforted by the sound of Asterius’ sweet voice… “Theseus…” “Hmm?!” Theseus jolted, blinking blearily at Asterius. “Ah, did I fall asleep? I apologize, my friend!”

Theseus yawned before lazily throwing himself over the bull’s lap.  In any other scenario he would have rolled onto his back so he could gaze lovingly at Asterius’ shapely jaw, and the cute shape of his snout. Asterius was perfect in every which way, and needed no portrait to immortalize it… unlike himself, apparently.

“I take it your meeting with Hades went poorly.”

“Not quite, dearest. My meeting with the Lord Hades went wonderfully! I am upset for… other reasons.”

“Such as?”

“Such as— that damnable portrait he has hanging on the west wall! Depicting myself, as a prince.” Theseus gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “The boy within its frame is a stranger to me. He is the one who killed you so very long ago, and…”

“And?”

“Even physically he is different. His skin paler, his nose smaller, his jaw more elegant! It is a perfect replicant not of myself… but of a portrait my father once commissioned, long ago…” When Theseus arrived within Athens as a young prince, he was thought of as a  foreigner. His father, being born of Egypt, did not help in this regard. While there were plenty who followed the teachings of Apollo in that foreigners should be treated with grace, there were others who looked at Theseus with disdain due to his lack of Athenian noble blood, and many more viewed Aegeus as some kind of usurper. In an attempt to solve this problem, Aegeus had a multitude of portraits of himself made. He was so very similar to Theseus’ grandfather, obsessed with the idea of being preserved through history. But those portraits always depicted Aegeus in the way he wanted to be viewed, rather than how he truly was. Looking at paintings alone, there was no doubt that Aegeus was the son of Pandion, descendant of Erichthonius. But to look at Aegeus himself, and to compare him to his siblings, or even Athen’s previous rulers, it was clear there was no blood shared between them.

Preoccupied as he was with his thoughts, Theseus did not hear the sound of Asterius’ book closing. It was only when the bull’s furred hand cupped his jaw, brushing its thumb over his cheek, that Theseus’ attention returned to his dearest friend.  “You are handsome and true, king. None in Elysium could hope to compare to you.”

“Oh, bull!” Theseus gasped, “How kind you are. But your praise is not needed! In fact, allow me… I simply must reward you for allowing me to nap besides you, after all.” “You slept for a mere few minutes…” “Even so!”  Theseus planted a firm kiss against Asterius’ snout. “You, my bull…” he sighed, “Are without parallel. You’ve a unique beauty that cannot be rivaled. And more so than that, you are the most handsome Minotaur in all of Elysium!!” “The only Minotaur in all of Elysium,” Asterius corrected. When Theseus pouted in response, Asterius gave a soft snort in laughter. “You deserve  a better portrait, king.”

“It is you, my bull, who deserves a portrait! Perhaps, after this, I will find an artist to hire for the task…”

“I would paint you,” Asterius replied. “I would capture your beauty in truth.”

“Oho? Are you being quite truthful, dear bull?”

“I am. I will.”

“Such kindness from you, such generosity… Asterius, Asterius…”

As Theseus continued to plant kisses against his most cherished companion, the topic of painting was soon forgotten by him altogether…. But Asterius remembered.

And so, it was a few weeks later when the bull surprised his king with this:

“King, allow me to paint you.” 

“You want to… oh! Oh, yes. That conversation…”

Theseus hummed, lost in thought. Ah, how he loved the idea of posing for his beloved bull! But Theseus knew himself well, and knew that every time he posed for a portrait, he quickly grew antsy, impatient, and most of all restless. Indeed, he was a famously difficult client to deal with even as he lived! Asterius was a patient bull (something Theseus appreciated immensely), but he did not wish to put him through that sort of trouble for what was at the time merely a passing thought. Theseus wracked his brain for a solution, though he struggled to come up with something satisfactory. Still, Asterius deserved an answer, and Theseus intended to give him one.

“I must admit, my friend, that I find myself somewhat intimidated by the idea of posing for a painting! It has been quite a long time since I’ve last done so.”  As he spoke, Theseus’ words and his budding thoughts tumbled into one another, and his next words became an impulsive suggestion. “Perhaps, instead of a painting, we could try sketching one another…?” Theseus’ expression turned grim at his own words; what was he thinking? He had of course dabbled in art before just as any king would, but his skills were next to nothing. But darling Asterius’ eyes lit up in excitement, glittering like two gemstones. He loved the idea, by the gods. “King, if you are willing…”

"Ah, w-well!” Theseus desperately tried to think of a way to retract his offer, but Aasterius looked so joyous at just the idea, and Theseus was loath to deny him such a simple request. “...Alright, my friend. From this moment onwards, the two of us shall temporarily relinquish our title as champions, and take on the role of artists!" -------------------------------------

There was a small area behind Theseus' home where a  pond glittered with blue water. While the pair had plenty of fish tanks inside their home, the pond held many larger, exotic species. It was one of Asterius' favourite places to come and relax after a battle, especially when ghostly waterfowl would occasionally come to swim upon the surface.

It was here that they sat out their supplies to begin painting together. Theseus had long ago asked the shade of a carpenter to create an easel big enough for Asterius to comfortably use, which then led to the construction of paint brushes and other such items meant for his larger hands. Theseus wanted to have them engraved with an array of intricate patterns, but Asterius had pointed out that they would end up becoming decorative items by that point, rather than tools he could actually utilize. 

Still, Theseus felt his heart swell with pride at the sight of Asterius elegantly seated across from him, his hair unstyled, falling in loose curls around his bullish face. Asterius of course looked handsome in any scenario, but there was something special about seeing him without his armor, relaxed and idling. There was none other within Elysium who had this unique privilege, after all, and Theseus would be sure to cherish every moment he could— “...King.” “Ah? Yes, my dear bull?” “You’ve been staring at me.” he snorted, clearly amused. “Get to work.” Theseus pouted, but did not complain as he finally turned his eyes towards his easel and the blank parchment upon it. Though it had been quite some time since he took lessons in art, he still remembered some of the basics. Where to start, though? Theseus supposed, with the head.

Asterius' bullish face was gorgeous in its uniqueness. From his luscious eyelashes, to the rich brown of his eyes, to the soft caramel-cream tone that coloured the bridge of his snout. However… it was not the easiest thing for a beginner artist to draw. If he broke down the shapes to their bare essentials, Asterius' head was something of a rectangle. He would begin there. Theseus pressed his pencil to the parchment. Somehow, his attempt at a rectangle looked more like a lopsided disc. Theseus tried again— this time getting something more akin to an elongated tube. A third time, with a furious determination, and somehow his clumsy hands managed to create a perfect square. Theseus was baffled beyond all reason- but it was good enough for now. With a shaky hand, he used this as a base to render the rest of Asterius’ head, including a glittery eye with long lashes, an adorable snout with a shimmering nose ring, and two tall horns… The end result was something more of an giant and overdetailed eye with long hairs growing off of it attached to a pair of overly long rods. Theseus’ hand hovered over the drawing, half tempted to tear it up and just take it from the top. But he knew that even if he did start over, his second attempt would not be much better.

(As his dread grew, Theseus couldn’t keep himself from once again  focusing on Asterius. The Minotaur was working with intent, as if he knew what he was doing. Surely he wasn’t experiencing this same childish panic Theseus felt...) If he could not draw Asterius’  head properly, then perhaps his body would be easier. He had touched his muscles many times up until now, felt them beneath his hand, pressed against his body both in combat and in… other scenarios. He knew them as well as he knew his own! Yes, this would be simple! It was not. While Theseus could be proud that he’d managed to capture the shape of Asterius’ forearms fairly well, the rest of it was disproportional, not to mention the fact that he had become… engrossed while depicting his companion’s chest, and may have exaggerated more than is appropriate. The idea of starting on his legs was intimidating, now. Could he depict them in all their glory? He could at least do this properly, couldn’t he?

Theseus pressed his pencil to the page, and scribbled passionately. The end result was two awkwardly bent sticks, one slightly larger the other, both ending in round clubs for feet. Gazingly blankly at the page, the king sat in stunned silence. 

He wasn’t particularly skilled in this regard, true, but he’d assumed he could at least do better than this. The drawing in its current state was a clear insult to Asterius’ beauty, and that was unforgivable. Theseus again looked over at his partner. Dear, sweet Asterius was so concentrated, no doubt creating a masterpiece that would make Theseus cry tears of joy once he laid his eyes upon it. And what did Theseus have to repay his kindness with? A drawing that looked as if it was created by a child. No—  a child could surely do better than this! Perhaps he should start over after all? So long as he does so before Asterius completed his drawing— “...Theseus.” “Hah? Ah! Yes, my friend…?” Much to the king’s surprise, Asterius’ voice was tingned the slight irritation of having called out to him several times now, though Theseus, lost in thought as he was, did not notice. “I’ve finished.” “Ah! You’ve finished!” Typically Theseus would admire the speed at which Asterius could work, but at this moment it was an absolute hindrance. He could not help but to wonder if it would be possible to subtly (intentionally) dump his canvas into the pond water and request a do-over. So preoccupied he was with his plans that he nearly did not hear Asterius’ sighing: 

"Mine did not come out great…” he admitted. "I was nervous."

Theseus had grabbed his easel in preparation for shoving it over, but Asterius’ words stopped him in his tracks. When Aserius looked at him strangely, Theseus sat back down with an awkward chuckle,

"Nervous…?" Theseus mused, trying to hide his own anxiousness. "From gazing upon my handsome visage, I'm sure!"

"Yes." Asterius’ honesty always shocked Theseus, even now. "I wanted to draw your features properly. I was nervous."

"I… I see!" Theseus was sure his face was heating up, now. How was it that Asterius was able to fluster him so easily, without any effort? "Well, I'm sure it's not any worse than mine! Shall we, erm…?"

Both men awkwardly clung to their canvases, seemingly unwilling to let the other gaze upon his creation.

"In that case!" Theseus eventually said "I suppose I shall go first! Promise me you will not laugh?"

“I prom— huh.” Theseus flipped his canvas so Asterius could see his creation in all its lopsided glory. A snout that had been erased and redrawn so many times it began to look more like smudged pencil marks than anything resembling a head, horns growing out sideways from its forehead. His overly-large chest was at a strange contrast with his comparatively smaller body, which became stranger still with his oddly proportioned legs.

Asterius did a good job of not laughing… for a mere few seconds. But soon his body tensed, and his shoulders shook, and a strange wheezing noise came from his throat. And Asterius- he laughed, guffawing at the drawing Theseus displayed to him, his body shaking so terribly his art supplies got knocked over.  Theseus pouted,  offended. “Is my art truly so funny?! Show me yours, th— hmm?!” 

Theseus’ words devolved into strained choking when Asterius showed the work he’d created. Theseus’ nose was large, but here it was drawn exaggeratedly. His posture was some bizarre cross between the elegance of a swan, and the buffoonery of a satyr. At some point the bull realized he’d drawn Theseus’ chiton over the wrong shoulder, resulting in him wearing what appeared to be some type of bizarre tunic, and that goes without mentioning the lopsided grin he wore. Theseus was baffled. But beyond that, he loved it. He loved the drawing so much he could only express it by slumping down to his knees, and burying his face in his hands to muffle his increasingly high pitched wails of delight. 

"That bad, is it?"

"Asterius, I adore it!! I simply must have it framed somewhere in my bedroom at once!" 

Asterius gave a haughty snort, causing his nose ring to sway. "Absolutely not."

"Asterius, please, I am begging! See, I am already on my knees. In turn, I'll allow you to do whatever you'd please with the work I created! I’m sure you’d give Patroclus quite a chuckle if you showed it to him, next time you are together!" “Hmm…” Asterius tilted his head in thought. “I have a better idea.” “Oh yes?” The two champions began to gather up their art supplies, all while Asterius told his king of his idea.  Soon they were distracted and found themselves sitting at the end of the pond, chatting eagerly as they watched Elysium’s false sky transform into a watercolour of orange and pink, before fading into a starry night sky.

--------------------------------------- Within their shared home, Theseus and Asterius posed together as the shade of an old painter prepared a portrait for them both. Asterius was used to sitting still for an extended period of time, but Theseus couldn’t help but to shake his leg, or rub Asterius’ hand, or try to start a conversation (leading to him quickly being hushed). Just as he predicted, Thesus still found the process of being painted to be an extremely sluggish affair. Rather than sitting and looking nice next to Asterius, he’d much, much, much rather be busy with cherishing him. But they had all the time in the world for that, he supposed. He could attempt to ignore his own restlessness, at least for now. And yet… When the shade announced that they’d finished, Theseus could not help but to groan out an exasperated “Finally!”, and even Asterius slumped backwards in his seat with a sigh, exhausted from having to hold his pose for so long. Within the painting, Theseus was wearing the blue cloak he once treasured as a youth, with Asterius wearing a matching one in a slightly darker hue. He sat poised on the bull’s broad lap, his smile vibrant, and Asterius’ curls were decorated with all his favourite flowers. Though it was just a painting, he could still feel the love Asterius had in his eyes. How strange it was, that his heart swelled with joy seeing this version of himself— the version of himself that had Asterius by his side, for now and for always. Soon the painting was placed within a frame of elaborate gold (Theseus had rushed out and purchased it mere minutes after Asterius suggested the idea of a professional painting, impulsive as always), and hung within their main room, next to several smaller paintings of Theseus’ family, and some created by Asterius himself.

(And on the wall  immediately beside the portrait, folded up within a simple wooden frame, two amateurish paintings rested side by side, both signed with pride by their artists.)

[zarvasace]

Here's a question about the disability au: You mentioned that when Four splits it messes with the injury? I'm mostly wondering the how of it

I think I've talked about this more in a few other places, but I don't remember where, and I don't think I'll ever get tired of talking about Four or this AU soooo here's a wall of text :) And a mini fic at the end because apparently I can't not write every day!!

CWs about life-altering injury and mobility issues. And disclaimer, I've had a mobility disability myself but not this specifically, and though I've done research, I might still get facts wrong.

In the disability AU, Four has paraparesis as a result of a spinal cord injury. My most recent drawing of him in his fancy wheelchair has been going around recently, if you've seen that.

Injury and Condition

After his first adventure with the Minish but before anything with the colors (there are two Four Swords games, but for simplicity and continuity I just squish em and say the manga happened), and while Minish-sized, Four got into an altercation with a rather mean stray cat. He was able to get help pretty quickly, but the initial injury and later jostling damaged some nerves beyond repair.

Though his world doesn't necessarily have the word for it, he has paraparesis, which is partial paralysis of everything waist down (paraplegia is total paralysis waist down, a more severe condition.) What this means for Four is that he can move his legs, sort of, and feeling in them is partially there. He can stand for short periods, especially with a way to help him balance. Paresis's main symptom is muscle weakness, with loss of sensation and control close contenders.

I think I've mentioned before that he doesn't experience much pain, but after a bit more research, I'm amending that to be yes, there is pain, which flares mostly when he exerts himself too far. Also after further research, I've decided that his right leg is the better one. It's a bit stronger.

Mobility Aids

After the injury and subsequent recovery time, Four researched and got to work. He was able to work with a few other craftspeople in his kingdom to design and make his own mobility aids. In this AU, his weaponcraft is not necessarily as masterful as other versions of him, but he's more experienced with a wider variety of trades, materials, and techniques—e.g. woodworking, sewing, weaving.

Of course his aids have gone through a variety of versions and changes. He tried a lot of options, and prefers to use a wheelchair most of the time. His is, of course, custom-built. I have a post about it and some illustrations. :) His wheelchair at the time of LU stuff is a rigid metal frame with wooden pieces, rattan panels, and removable cushions. It has springy spokes and adequate shock absorption. There's also some Minish magic involved, of course, to make the chair more comfortable to use and more stable in difficult terrain. Four is an adventurer, after all, he has to handle a lot of situations.

(regarding wheelchair combat: I realize it might be a little bit impractical, but (1) actual everyday wheelchairs are more maneuverable than the average unfamiliar person thinks, please go look up some YouTube videos, and (2) this is still fantasy. In the same way that we handwave potty breaks, we're handwaving the finer points of swordsmanship while in a wheelchair.)

When a chair isn't practical (e.g. in small buildings or cave systems or even the forge sometimes), Four uses one or two forearm crutches at a time. It gives him a bit more maneuverability, but he's slower with them. Using them for too long means he gets a lot of pain as the day goes on, and into the next day. He regularly carries around four of these crutches, sized to himself, in his magic bag.

Colors!

And now for the actual point of this essay! Everyone has their own interpretations of how Four works, with the whole splitting thing. With the way I prefer to write it, the divisions between the colors are both mental and physiological. By physiological, I mean that his body sort of splits physical traits between the four of him as well as mental. For example, if Four gets a burn scar on his elbow, it'll only appear on Red, not any of the others. There are probably complex psychological reasons for which trait gets assigned where. By making the split work this way, I can write physical differences between the colors, from appearance to disability.

As far as I've been able to research, paresis means that the spinal cord nerves are partially damaged. Four's split handles the injury by spreading it out, though unevenly.

Vio gets most of the disability, and the severity of their condition increases in him almost to the point of full paraplegia. He cannot stand or use crutches, and gets chair priority. The chair has a belt for him, because he can't shift and balance the way Four can. He's still the group's archer, though he has an altered shooting style and is practiced in crossbows due to his position.

Red gets it about as badly as Four has it. He has his own chair at home, but out and about, he's all right using crutches. He generally uses two, moving both forward at the same time and swinging through. In a fight, he might ditch one to use a sword or the fire rod. If Four splits with pain from walking too much, Red's the most likely to bear the brunt of it.

Green has less-severe paresis, and mostly uses one crutch on his right, which frees up his left hand to use a weapon, mostly his sword. He can stand without anything to help balance him for a while, and can sometimes take a few steps over even ground without support. He actually gets most of the scars that Four receives while combined.

Blue's paresis is very mild. He's ambulatory, and rarely uses crutches. If he needs to, he'll snag Green's spare. He experiences occasional muscle weakness, though more to the point of a knee giving out for a moment rather than not being able to put weight on the leg. He has both hands free in a fight to swing his hammer, and feels, if possible, even more protective of the others in this AU.

When they first split, they had to get back home (hooray for horses) and find their older variations of mobility aids. Nothing about the second adventure/manga really change, plot-wise. Due to being a reflection of Four, Shadow does have a bit of paresis as well, around Green's level. But, well... he can fly. He just does that, no harm done.

Conclusion

In the LU group, Four is, at first, one of the least forthcoming about his disability. Wind's missing a leg and makes lots of jokes, which catch on with Twilight and Time pretty quickly. Hyrule always had corny jokes in his arsenal. Their attitudes help Four to relax a bit and treat his own disability with a bit more acceptance.

---

"I'll get it," Four volunteered, pushing over to one of the shelves of the small store. He scanned the labeled bottles for the one Warriors had mentioned, finding it on one of the upper shelves.

"Oh, young man, it's up pretty far—" The shopkeeper cut off when he saw Four brace himself and stand up to grab the bottle.

Four glanced over. His first instinct was to flush red and pretend that nothing had happened, since people often assumed that he used a wheelchair because he was lazy or wanted attention. But then again... Wind had been coming up with some good jokes lately.

Looking down at his legs, Four gasped as if surprised. "It's a miracle!"

The shopkeeper's eyes were huge.

Four dropped back down into his chair and blinked, then slumped. "Aw, another false alarm."

[manapotionstudios]

ManaPost 14 - WHAT'S HAPPENING?!

Er... Hello, everybody! It's been a while. Just about two months. Y is here to break the silence! The time we spent quiet was definitely a Time. Of all time, even. I don't even remember how to write these things...

Weird writing styles aside, today we're here to break the silence on just what has been happening this whole time. We made a lot of promises, some we're still working on delivering, a few we had to reevaluate. Let's just get to the point:

WHAT'S HAPPENING?!

The major hit to our development cycle was actually school. We weren't lying! Most of us have extra-curricular activities and it just doesn't leave much time after (or even before) school to work on Manapotioneering. School for us started on August 28th, and we haven't posted since August 12th. Massive gap. We're announcing that we are still alive, but our availability to develop is limited all the same.

However... On the personal side of things (for Y :D), I will be graduating in 2024 (Instead of 2025)! I will be taking a gap year, meaning I'll be spending a year getting my bearings in the adult world. That also means more dedicated Manapotioneering time for yours truly! The team here have done so much artistically (and I have as well!) but my programming skills are not quite tip-top. I plan to improve more than I ever have this upcoming year.

Personal events aside...

Unity - Or not?

Both of our games were developed with Unity. As of the events of their pricing model change, even after they made (a) revision(s), we decide to drop them entirely. Manapotion Studios is a small indie studio without a game yet and we simply do not trust Unity after their antics. We're working with Godot now, a free, open source game engine that's just plain cool. That does mean rewriting everything. All of our assets, specifically scripts, were written with Unity. Of course, since we have some scaffolding to build off of, it shouldn't take too long to get back to where we were (in fact, we're about a third of the way there).

It's truly unfortunate that Unity's error made our absence last longer than expected. We actually planned to make a comeback ManaPost several times through September, and we even had something going on this month of October.

-

Ludum Dare 54! We tried!

We actually "participated" in Ludum Dare 54! "Participated" in quotes because we didn't end up finishing the game on time. It was terrible timing for all of us here in the green elixir. One of us was terribly sick, the others were busy with school and life. However, our game is still planned to be released on or before Halloween!

Pumpkin Patch Panic!

Pumpkin Patch Panic! Is a game about growing as many pumpkins as you can before the Intergalactic Pumpkin Festival on October 31st! One small quirk; your pumpkin patch resides on a shrinking planet! Every so often, the planet will shrink, shrinking your growing space in turn! It may seem easy to grow pumpkins, but space-pumpkins are a little pumpkin-spice-ier than you'd think! Some grow, some shrink! We're very excited to release PPP and we're even more excited to see what everyone thinks! Even though it wasn't released on October 2nd as planned.

Pumpkin Patch Panic! will be our FIRST EVER GAME!!! All made with the magic and love of our team, C, R, Y, and L (Previously M). We plan to participate in more game jams in the future (and hopefully finish them on time :P), so that we can become Manapotion Masters of our craft.

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During our extended absence, we thought and thought, with our thinking hats. We're all high schoolers, soon to be young adults, and we've learned a thing or two about making games even if it is very surface level. So, let's set the records straight.

Life Will Change

Making games is hard! We've made a lot of very ambitious promises and we can proudly say they were quite silly. Very silly, in fact. Ambition without action is but a fantasy. So, we're going for a soft-reset this time 'round.

Going Forward...

Just to get the easy part out of the way, weekly ManaPosts will be making their return, as per the schedule outlined in ManaPost 05, only with a the removal of the "occasional" Sunday postage. You can expect a ManaPost centered around anything Manapotion every Saturday at 12:00 EST. The weekly schedule frankly offered much more discipline in our development cycle than the 2 months of NOTHING!!!

Now, Manaport was a fleeting dream. Unfortunately overblown and very desperately needs some rethinking. There's a LOT of unhandled story and lore and purpose behind the game that just needs a restart now that we're not just a handful of tweenagers. We almost kind of know what we're doing, and we want to still make Manaport into a hit. For the next few months, we will be essentially reworking the game's story and maybe even the characters from the ground up. More about that in a separate ManaPost, though.

We plan to be more public with Manaport's new development and what things will be changing or removed outright. Hopefully this doesn't add another 2 years to our 5 year development cycle. :)

As for Delaney... Delaney is fine. Switching to Godot has been a breeze for Delaney and we plan to get back to posting about our Anarchic Adventurer very soon.

With Pumpkin Patch Panic!, we have the gameplay loop complete, and should be released no later than Halloween 2023. If not, we'll let you know why that happened.

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With a Heavy Heart,

It's time to wrap this behemoth of a Manapost up for this weekend. Things have been rocky, but we're ready to get on the right track! Fingers crossed we show you all something really amazing.

Within our abilities, of course.

Thanks for stopping by. We'll see you next week!

The Manapotion Team (C, R, L (Previously M) and Y)

[c-53]

I'm insane about Zeke.

Like. They spend their entire life yearning for freedom. But when to their knowledge, they're presented with the opportunity, they get scared. They finally have an easy way to get what they want (again to their knowledge, in reality they would have blown up), and they're scared.

They had no real plans for what to do when they where freed. I don't think. Just the vague idea of "I'll kill the master then make the human race suffer for what they put me through" with no real weight behind it. But their given that exact opportunity and. They realize that there never really was a plan. The fact that they where even able to get captured by these amateurs is proof enough that even though superior they're still so weak.

And the hates not gone either they're still furious, they still want that revenge. To make humanity pay. But by this point the idea that perhaps humans aren't all terrible is starting to form. Sure Ethan is annoying as hell but he provides videogames and has been their biggest advocate despite all the times they've killed him or hurt him or hurt his friends. And the idea that they could do all that, and still be shown kindness is what stops them from doing the whole murder bot thing. Because their hate is built on the idea that every human would either want to use them or kill them. But Ethan doesn't want to do those things, Ethan wants them to be free. Though he needs proof they won't hurt people. (Lie. Ethan used him to scum a RTX card)

And that makes what happens worse.

YES OK LIKE. MY INTERPRETATION IS. A LIIIITLE BIT DIFFERENT BUT SIMILAR STROKES. Ok, like. Zeke doesn’t know what they want, or how to actualize their freedom, and it REALLY GETS MY ASS!!

Their situation was a nightmare. They were a thing with no safety. It was obey or die, be obedient or suffer. There was no rest, they were only awake when they were required to kill something, and they knew there was no light at the end of the tunnel. When they werent needed anymore, they’d die. Its a never ending wave of fear and stress, and they coped with it by fantasizing.

They dreamed they’d kill the Master, and make humanity suffer for what it put them through, they’d make everyone feel just as helpless as they feel, and they’d be free to be whatever they want, with no one left to control or hurt them. Its lofty and fantastical, and. Childish. But really they never expected to be free, and have no plans for the future, its all they have. So . They continue to cling to the fantasy without acting on it, despite it not really being what they want anymore.

They’re still furious! They still want the Master dead! They still resent anyone who has - or desires to control them, but they’re increasingly less convinced by their own goal of human extermination. They only know 4 humans, and two of them want them to be free, and heal, and that. Shakes things up a lot. A senseless suffering isnt what they want, they want poetic justice. They don’t want to be alone in the world, they want to be free of people who would put them in a bomb collar, and dig in their head.

They find satisfaction in being safe from the Master, and having a respected space to call their own, and the novelty of being allowed to argue, and bargain, and refuse, and have their mind changed through words, not threats. To be around people they can ask to leave, and have their wishes respected, to have people who let them figure themself out, choosing their own name, and pronouns, presentation, and purpose, rather than forcing them into one.

They make me feel insane.

[darkiris-bloodmagic]

My thoughts on finishing the Cazador fight & completing Astarion's personal quest (TW abuse/murder/SA)

Oh my gods. What a fucking ride.

While I knew overall how things were going to go, I kept myself mostly spoiler free & I'm so glad I did. I had no idea he was going to let loose and then sob like that & I was sobbing right with him.

Trying not to down play my own abuse in typing this out, because its still pretty mild in comparison to a lot of other abuse other ppl faced at the hands of this person, but it's mine & it was horrible & I experienced it. And I know this to be true because I knew exactly what that driving feeling Astariom had was. That scream. Those knife motions. For a moment, he had control & it didn't feel anything like he thought.

I want my abuser dead & I wish I felt worse saying it. But I don't. I know his life would be best served in the ground. Nothing he has done or will do will ever change this for me. So, watching Astarion drain the life from Cazador was a catharsis. One that I didn't realize I needed myself. I know it's a fantasy & a chance I'll never get, nor is a position I'd want to be in. So I watched him stab his master. And I cried. And I cried. And I remembered that in 1 year, 7 years will have passed since we last touched, and the skin cells that my abuser knew are no longer on my body.

In a year, my skin won't know any of him. And for me, that's when I'll be free. My own personal Cazador will be vanquished.

Despite the fact that 7 years have almost passed, I still get ghostly moments where I can feel his handprint he left on me. I can still remember his weight on top of me after telling him to put protection on & refusing. I remember being treated like a toy that was only available to be used & not loved completely. It left me with hypersexuality that ruined relationships after he left. And then the lack of sexuality I have now as a result that is ruining more.

The lies, the sneaking around, holding him sobbing after HE confessed to cheating on me. I remember all of it, and the things I don't remember are for the better. And I wasn't even his worst victim. I was the one he used to make others' lives worse. In my eyes, I was Astarion because I was the blueprint, the experiment, the pet, the "best" he's ever had, and that was the thing that kept me coming back begging for scraps because I didn't know what else genuine love was at that point. I was just 18 and 19 years old, and even though we were the same age, it was old enough to know it was wrong. He always knew it was wrong.

My love, my darling pale elf, you've shown me what living with the weight of these memories can do to someone and how we can overcome them no matter how long it's been.

Neil Newbon is a treasure, a gift to the fantasy world, and to see other victims being able to tell their stories in such creative ways is fulfilling. While he was never entitled to share his story, the fact that he has been open about how these are his own emotions and experiences he's pulling from means the world.

We make our own choices now. It doesn't matter if they're good or bad. It's ours to make.

[paindivinemp3]

📚Books I'd Recommend SVT To Read: Part One

a/n: i've wanted to make something like this for some time; thank you @sadkidwarexpert for allowing me to use your idea🖤; as always, excuse any typos and please, let me know if i wrote something incorrectly.

✎Jeonghan: The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov

➥Genre: fantasy, satire, magical realism?

➥The book that deserves a book about it (does it make sense?). I feel this book is like "The Matrix" movie- there are so many layers to it, so much to decipher and everytime you read it, there's always something new? I think Jeonghan's mind would enjoy the challenge.

"I don't have any special talents, just an ordinary desire to live like a human being."

Bonus: Schachnovelle by Stefan Zweig

✎Wonwoo: The Erast Fandorin Mysteries Series by Boris Akunin

➥Genre: historical detective novels

➥I think Wonwoo would have so much fun reading about the adventures of Mr. Erast Fandorin and learn so many facts from the pages of the books. These series are such a great delight and you know the movie going on inside your head while reading? brrr

"When money is the cornerstone of everything, it is the end of genuine art! You have given me this rose and, of course, it is beautiful. But you are mistaken when you say that it is alive! It died as soon as you condemned it to this golden captivity! It was transformed into the mummified corpse of a flower! It is the same with your cinematograph. The theatre is life! And like all life, it is instantaneous and unrepeatable. There will never be another moment exactly the same, it cannot be halted, and that is why it is beautiful..."

Bonus: The Cemetery of Forgotten Books Series by Carlos Ruiz Zafón

✎DK: A Strangeness in My Mind by Orhan Pamuk

➥Genre: (historical) fiction

➥A book where various themes (such as social classes and politics) cross lines in the life of an ordinary man, that had moved into the big, tumultuous city (but being a dreamer and a discoverer isn't ordinary, right?). I loved reading this book from beginning to end and it would be a lie to say that I didn't get attached to Mevlut- its main protagonist. Mevlut, who accepts his fate while trying to decipher that enigma called life (or Istanbul, or himself. maybe all); a sentimental character who never loses his child-like curiosity, whose good heart doesn't change despite (is he just a dreamer, an idealist or simply a fool? who knows. but maybe, in the end, we are the fools).A character from which a lot valuable can be learned. I think DK would truly enjoy diving into the story and maybe would bump into a few gentle reminders (does this even make sense?)

"All the happiness and beauty that life had to offer only revealed themselves when his mind drifted off into fantasies of a world far removed from his own."

Bonus: Monsieur Jean und sein Gespür für Glück by Thomas Montasser

✎Minghao: The Architect’s Apprentice by Elif Şafak

➥Genre: historical fiction

➥A beautiful story, following the journey of a boy and his loyal companion and best friend- an elephant, into the ever-changing Istanbul . Yet, this book is so much more. If architect Sinan and his apprentices build lives through architecture, so does Minghao through music. It takes time and patience to create something and only a second to destroy it, doesn't it? I think Minghao's artistic soul will connect with the characters, more or less, and will genuinely appreciate the book.

"For apprentices everywhere - no one told us that love was the hardest craft to master."

Bonus: At the Existentialist Café by Sarah Bakewell

✎Seungkwan: When God Was a Rabbit by Sarah Winman

➥Genre: coming of age, contemporary, fiction

➥A story of growing up and losing your innocence, a story of a brother and sister, of friends and families, of learning to navigate through the mess and turmoil of the world and your own life and heal, learn, grow. I believe Seungkwan is in possession of high emotional intelligence and we know how much he loves and values his family and friends, so I think this book might hit close to home, more or less.

"Nothing stays forgotten for long, Elly. Sometimes we simply have to remind the world that we're special and that we're still here."

Bonus: The Four Million by O.Henry

[fluffyfranny]

Hey, idk if you do writing requests but what about a fluffy komahina fantasy au where Nagito is a kitsune and Hajime is a werewolf

I'm totally on board with this!

And the fact you requested two of some of my favorite mythical beasties makes me even more excited to write this!

Hope you don't mind the brainrot >:3

In certain historical analyses of kitsunes, I believe that the higher the number of tails, the wiser the spirit is. So I'd like to think that Nagito would have four and a half.

Reason being that in the SDR2 game, he is known as a "lucky student," whereas in the anime, he is the "unlucky student," so I believe he'd have a number of tails right down the middle to represent his conflicting luck.

Regarding the "half tail," I imagine it being in between the two other pairs of tails, except it's very matted and scarred with tufts of fur torn out to represent his struggles with a lack of luck, while the four tails surrounding it are sleek and plush, the fur being the same color as his hair, with the tails boasting green tips, all to represent his lavish, unexpected successes.

Similarly, the fox ears atop his head are of the same white coloration as his hair, and one is always perky and attentive while the other is mangled, a piece or two missing.

When he doesn't feel like exposing his vulnerable, mythical features, he can conjure up a glamour and make his ears and tails invisible.

Outfit-wise, I imagine Nagito wearing a kimono similar to the one worn by Grimsley in Pokemon Masters, with the majority of the clothing being green like his jacket and the edges being red like the insignia on his shirt.

Now for Hajime, I imagine that when there's a full moon, things will go something like this: his eyes will go red and his pupils will be blown to slits. His hair will darken and elongate, and his legs, arms and backs of his hands will start to gain a fine coating of black hair. Two black ears sprout from his head, a thick black tail from the base of his spine. Nails become claws, and front teeth become fangs.

(Basically, he becomes a were-version of Kamukura)

When in this form, he only has one form of communication: growls. Angry growls are loud and rumbly from the chest, lips quirked up in a snarl to expose those sharp teeth. Content growls are akin to purring, and sad growls are higher in volume and pitch to resemble whines. The key to better understanding what kind of mood he's in is facial expressions accompanied with the noises.

Now for how they reveal to each other that they're both beasties!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nagito never understood. Why did Hajime avoid him one specific night every month? The date always changed month to month, but without fail, the brunette always managed to avoid the luckster's attention. Even odder was the fact that Hajime always disappeared just as the sun finished setting.

He was wise enough to try and take a stab at figuring out what was wrong with his cohort, but he was unlucky enough to feel stumped.

He had to get to the bottom of this. And he had backup.

With the help of Gundham's Devas, after an immense bribery session with the Overlord of Ice involving plenty of pets and snuggles for the hamsters that were supposedly their method of unknowingly leeching necessary life essence to fuel their magic, he had them stand guard by the doorway to the outside just past the dorm rooms. They would alert Nagito via scampering over to his room, where he'd be hiding right after dinner, after the brunette left and squeaking their hearts out as a sign for him to give chase.

Sure enough, about a half an hour after dusk had settled, the furry alarms went off outside Nagito's room, prompting him to whip open the door at lightning speed, almost knocking the Devas across the hallway as he sprinted out the doors.

He could just make out the silhouette of Hajime, who was dashing towards the edge of the courtyard, just before the entrance to a grove of trees that outlined the perimeter.

It was getting rather dark, the last traces of sunlight fading from the dusky air as fireflies began to blink on and off, their time to shine arriving, as well as that of the moon, beautifully whole and full amongst the clouds.

What if he lost his way and gets himself hurt from not being able to see? He'd for sure get a squeaky scolding from Mikan if that were to happen.

He had no choice but to follow.

Hajime had long disappeared into the trees now, not having looked back once to see Nagito in hot pursuit during the seemingly eternal sprint. With the brunette no longer in his sight, Nagito decided to harness a little trick he kept up his sleeve.

He snapped his fingers and pointed directly in front of him. In an instant, a bright blue wisp poofed into existence and zoomed into the trees, leaving a smoky trail that shimmered and extended deeper into the forest. He realized that this trail was the exact pathway that Hajime took, for a few green sparkles were embedded into the mist, and these sparkles radiated essence of the brunette.

Nagito knew this without hesitation, and he mentally high-fived himself, thanking the gods above for gracing him with luck this time around.

He began to follow the trail, with it fading behind him as he made progress. After following the blue smoke for what seemed like a mile, he arrived smack dab in front of a cluster of oaks, the trail sneaking around and behind them before fading away completely.

This was the spot.

Nagito had an inkling that his friend came to hide here once a month because he was hiding something from him, and he preemptively put a hand to his heart. Being as close as he was to Hajime, he felt a twang of betrayal, large enough for him to have to hold back a growl that was building in his throat. He wanted to know what was the cause behind this ludicrous cycle, so he grabbed the side of the tree and stepped around it to face...

A very unwelcoming, unlucky site indeed.

Hajime was on the ground, shaking and curled up against the tree trunk, back facing Nagito so he couldn't see his face wincing and sweating from the sheer force of holding back the change. He obviously didn't want it to happen, but it would do his body more harm than good by trying to bar off something that already caused him enough stress and pain, both physically and emotionally.

Nagito reached a quivering hand out to place on Hajime's shoulder, only to be met with an angry set of red, fiery eyes as the brunette's head snapped around to face him, snarl intact and fangs bared. The former let out a startled yelp and whipped back behind the tree, unable to keep his composure as his ears and tails poofed into existence from behind the glamour he had set upon himself that morning.

He assumed a position similar to that of Hajime mere moments before, curling in on himself and shielding his chest and face with his tails, letting out a shaky whimper as he heard his friend continue growling from the other side of the trunk.

After about a minute, the growls ceased, but Nagito kept shaking and whining softly, mentally scolding himself for not catching on to his friend's habits sooner rather than later. Vanishing once a month, doing so when it was dark...

He was a goddamn werewolf...

Suddenly, he heard his friend's footsteps round the tree and towards where he was laying against it, grass rustling and crunching under his feet. Nagito didn't dare look up at his friend, in fear of accidentally inciting an attack from a sudden movement. Instead, he shrunk further into his fetal position, not caring if Hajime went after the tails that shielded him from his monster of a friend. He didn't care if he called Nagito a freak after he reverted back to normal a few hours from now.

Just please don't hurt him...

However, the searing pain never came, nor did anything along the lines of a snarl. Instead, a high-pitched mewl emanated from Hajime's throat, face set in stone even as a lone tear trickled down his cheek. This caused Nagito to peek through a gap in his tails, eyes blown wide at the sight of his...friend?

Him and Hajime were the only ones around at the time they entered the forest, but the thing above him certainly didn't look like Hajime. His hair was much longer and darker, his face much paler and eyes a much more vibrant shade of red, when they were originally an olive green color. However, the shape of the thing's face and eyes told a different story, that behind this facade under the moon...

Was his closest partner in crime...

Seeing that Hajime made no moves towards hurting him, his tails unfurled from around his body and floated to the side, where they gently lay on the grass near the base of the tree. The now noiret gazed down at the appendages and carefully lowered a clawed finger to a few inches above the scarred middle one, returning eye contact towards Nagito as if asking a question along the lines of:

May I?

Nagito looked at his friend, then to his tails, then back at him before nodding slightly. Hajime looked down again and gently ran the finger against one of the tail's bald spots where the fur was brushed aside and torn out, exposing the pale flesh underneath where white fluff used to be.

He did this a few times, almost as if he were petting the tail, before lifting his finger and pointing up at Nagito's mangled ear, asking the same question again mentally, earning another nod in response.

He nudged closer to Nagito on the balls of his feet until he was right in his personal bubble. He raised the same finger and gently brushed along the back of the ear, causing it to twitch briefly and for Hajime to draw his hand back suddenly, almost as if he were wondering if Nagito was now peeved and ready to strike.

Instead, he patted the ground next to him, an invitation for Hajime to sit next to him against the tree. It was the noiret's turn to do a miniature double-take with his eyes before he nodded silently and slid onto the dirt beside him. Almost out of pure instinct, his thick, black tail laid against the top of the three leftmost tails, the end coming to curl around the scarred tail in the middle. In return, Nagito sent him a soft smile from the side before he curled the end of his middle tail over the top of Hajime's.

Making eye contact with his friend, he said: "You know, I may be none the wiser, but I feel like the luckiest being in the world."

After saying this, he laid his head against Hajime's shoulder as he gazed back through the trees, his cohort returning a similar gesture and laying his head atop his own, both of them taking in the sight of the moon that crested the spires of the school's main building.

It may have been a trick of the eye, but you could almost make out the tips of their tails making a faint heart shape.

[phoenix-before-the-flame]

Hi Phoenix I was wondering do you have any advice when it comes to writing a story ? I’ve been planning /writing a story awhile now but I feel like I’m basically copying fairy tail , the way the hero and heroine meet is like how Natsu and Lucy meet , the team I’m planning putting them in pretty much team Natsu all cause I put a girl who magic is like Erza but it’s hard to make unique magic that fits into a fantasy world.I feel like I’m gonna have a mental break down with all this stress, sorry

Ok so first of all my comrade anon. Breathe. Slow your brain a bit, cant do anything if your stressed tf out lol.

Now that we got our heads screwed on straight let's get talking.

You feel like your copying FT but guess what? This is still the first pass of your story! There's time to fix and change and snip away things to make it it's own thing so stressing out over it while its a wip is moot! I get that is natural to hold your head while your still in progress (trust me i've been there) but you've got time! No deadlines! All the chances to keep fixing until the story comes into it's own until you get it right!

And plus there's also the fact that no story/character is truly original in the sense that tropes, character traits, story beats, powers, etc often find themselves repeating.

Lets give some examples!

If we stick close to home Fairy Tail, Eden's Zero and Rave Master all had their main duo have 'meetings by chance' where the male protag is given the chance to showcase his unique abilities by defeating a large group of minor antagonists and being the instigator for the story's major events.

Then going along further we meet a male character who's abilites lie in creation acting as a rival to our male MC and a another female character who is incredibly strong. Things repeat!

And outside of the mashima circle it still holds true.

Superman and Omniman from Invincible essentially are the same at their roots (and yes i know omniman was deliberately crafted to be a superman like figure but regardless) of being a nigh invincible super powered aliens.

Pinkie Pie from MLP, Spongebob and Mabel from Gravity Falls all fill the same niche of the super happy go lucky character.

Natsu and Luffy are often lumped together with bearing similar traits of being the positive male protag. Heck even in Naruto the character role of the hardworking loser is filled by both Naruto and Rock Lee in the same series!

The key thing that makes all these characters their own despite having similar traits? Their execution! How they're used in story and the traits the creator chooses to showcase the most!

Superman is a hero and uses his powers for good, Omniman is a colonizer seeking to take earth for his empire. Pinkie Pie's cheerfulness is used for gags and breaking that universe's logic, Spongebob's endless positivity being slapped onto such a normal thing ( just a dude working at burger king) is where half those jokes came from and Mabel's quirkiness is used both to balance out her brother but also is used as a flaw and insight into her character.

And you're worried about powers being similar but extends to powers too.

Powers especially! Truly unique powers are hard to come by in this day n age!

Luffy and Mrs.Incredible have the same powers of elasticity but both focus on different aspects to the elasticity and how they use em. Mrs.Incredible is a logical character and uses strategy hand in hand with her powers to cleanly incapacitate her opponents whereas Luffy is written to be hardhitting and is literally made of rubber instead of just being stretchy alone which allows deeper uses of his powers.

Elemental powers are a staple in fantasy media but! That doesn't stop em from being used does it? Avatar is a good example of this where yes it does use common powers, but those common powers were written with a tightly structured power system that made it stand out.

So at the end of the day, you should worry less about things seeming similar and focus more on the execution of your ideas.

Your protags have a meeting by chance, however where is it? Who ran into who? Did they start off on a good foot or as enemies?

You have a magical swordswoman, are you having her summon weapons? Why not change how she summons them? Maybe she has tattoos of the weapons she uses on her body to summon them, or she made contracts with deities who gifted her tools she can summon at will. Or she has prosthetic limbs that she transmutes into weapons to use at will.

Common ideas, but different ways how they can be used.

At the end of the day an interesting spin on an old trope or concept is what writing sorta is, so stressin about things that seem similar's gonna do ya more harm than good.

You have time to think and go over this more than once, look at your characters, really sit and look at then and figure out what traits they have that you want to exploit and how it can be used to build em as their own character. Dont worry too much on the powers, i can assure you that similarity is not the end of the world. As long as it isnt literally copy and paste then you are fine.

Breathe. Take a step back. Look all over at other series, books, even irl for inspiration.

You got this comrade.

[meidozangetsuha]

Inuyasha is the story of an underdog who is going through the process of learning self acceptance. He struggled and sometimes nearly died for every upgrade he got. He could not even pull or use the Tetsusaiga on his own. Inuyasha is interesting because both the main protagonist and antagonist hate themselves and want to change what they are for different reasons.

Princess half demon is a female power fantasy starring 2 Mary Sues and an Inukag kid. Setsuna is good at everything. Towa is handed everything. There is no struggle. There is no blood. Towa gets inconvenienced at best for every power up she gets. She is also boring, whiny and overpowered.

indeed! Inuyasha's narrative differs quite differently from the next generation's, and thus received a different primary weapon that suited him to that purpose. however, that doesn't change the fact that he was also pretty ridiculous in the power up department as the story demanded. I could talk about this for a long time, but Inuyasha was not a traditional shounen story. Inuyasha is an amazing protagonist i've grown up with- but let's not pretend it's not pretend that the deus exes didn't fall at his feet.

now i can talk a lot about this, because Inuyasha isn't a traditional shounen and was RT's first serious story and suffered rom issues in regards to pacing and the like, and how much Tessaiga sincerely compliments Inuyasha's own journey: but as we compare shounen protagonists, it is funny that we try to claim Towa has so many power-ups as her uncle when she can do... all of three things, and still got her ass kicked by the main antagonist.

"there's no blood" OG anime cut out a TON of blood compared to the manga. Yashahime airs at a young time. weird complaint.

"female power fantasy" ok i'm gonna chose to ignore that very potential can of yikes because i can't tell how earnest you're being or if you just worded htat really badly. granted though it's going to be 2022 in less than 12 hours and i don't trust people who say that and call strong female characters mary sues but:

"2 Mary Sues and an Inukag kid" LMAOOOOOOOOO

i'm sorry, like Moroha didn't pull more techniques out of her ass??? the girl who can use advanced spiritual powers her mom never got to use during her own quest despite the fact she has been RAISED by yokai? at least Kagome we can say in the years following Naraku's defeat after she was 18 she learned from Kaede to use techniques like we saw in the raccoon yokai flashbacks: how the hell did a 14 year old who lived up around youkai who can't use that learn to do it? the answer is apparently completely on her own

Moroha is a natural genius and prodigy in her own right, and significantly more impressive than her own father in the technique and power department despite being much younger than him, and not even a result of his unique origin: she's just younger than both her mom and her father, got a magic sword and learned to use it on her own, and apparently must have experimented with her own spiritual powers to become a badass in her own right after her own useless-ass master died. as opposed to the THREE THINGS that Towa is capable of, I can probably name 5 or more on Moroha's end if I wasn't feeling lazy bc it's New Years

all three of them have powers that were not used by the generation before them, and Moroha by far has the most going on for her with no real explanation as to how. i said in the last ask i answered i actually WOULD have appreciated Towa needing 2-3 eps to fully realize and learn how to use her powers... and and an explanation on how Moroha is this incredibly advanced in her spiritual powers, too.

it's absurd to put one on such a high pedestal and ignore this just because she's your fave. Towa is one of my favorite characters in all of fiction, and while i've loved her season 2 arc there are things about her i wish had gone in a different direction. but we're gonna act like her power gains have been ridiculous compared to the cousin right next to her?

and if Towa is a mary sue? fine! she's a mary sue i love, then! and same for her sister and her cousins, who are also sues~

you have some good points that i've actually talked about with my own friends, it's a shame though it's basically buried underneath what's clearly you just being salty about your fave.

again, happy new year you salty loser <3

[afi-mukami]

💘 - Favourite line from a fic/hc I've finished?

💀 - Least favourite character to write for?

👻 - Random fact about the writer?

😡 - One word you always spell wrong?

🤍 - Favourite writing trope?

🖤 - Least favourite writing trope?

Writer/Follower Ask Game

💘 - Favourite line from a fic/hc I've finished?

These are always so hard to pick up! But here is something anyway:

"As if Ruki didn’t get enough kicks from being the master. As if you didn’t."

From His Realm to Conquer. Please note that this fic is NSFW.

💀 - Least favourite character to write for?

Hmm... Do I have one? Maybe I do... but not in my current projects. I really struggled when I was writing my book Veden vaisto with Astara. I know that doesn't tell you anything and it's not even a fic. But anyway.

I love every character of mine, Astara too. But when I was writing Veden vaisto I was in a really bad place mentally and Astara kind of had something I had just lost. I hated her back then and writing her was a struggle because of that. I couldn't change the storyline anymore though because it was the third part of the series. So... I went through with it. And maybe it was good, maybe readers didn't see my struggles.

But now I'm okay again and I don't hate Astara anymore. She deserved what she got. 💖

👻 - Random fact about the writer?

I started writing when I was 7 years old.

😡 - One word you always spell wrong?

Fantasy... it always turns out as "fatnasy" for the first try. 🤣 And this can become I kind of a problem when you write about Final Fantasy series quite a lot...

There are probably some Finnish words too, but now I can't remember any... 😅

🤍 - Favourite writing trope?

Gosh! I don't know! I love kabedon scenes 😳 but I haven't written too many of those.

I don't know if I use tropes that much, at least knowingly. I don't actually think about these things too much when I write, I kind of go with the flow, and sometimes there are tropes in my stories, sometimes not so many... I think.

Oh, now I know! I really love writing situations when the couple needs to be close to each other for some reason, like hiding in a closet or something. But I haven't written that one either for the longest time... maybe I should... hmm...

And I like when the love interest saves the MC. I know it's more like a cliche and that not everybody loves that... but I can't help what I like, I guess.

Oh, and I don't know if it's a trope or not... but I totally love strong and dominant female love interests when the MC is also a woman... 😘

And... good girl & bad boy combination. 😳

🖤 - Least favourite writing trope?

Waah! What could it be? There is probably something but nothing comes to my mind!

I guess this is more of a cliche than a trope but sometimes I find it boring if a romance story ends with marriage and kids. I mean... it's fine but it's so common, so sometimes I wish more fresh good endings.

Though sometimes marriage and kids feel just right, so... I don't know. 😂 And I totally have written a couple of those too... but not all my endings are like that.