#but their characters just suffer from that relationship

[waywardangel-wilds]

Using this post to see if I can answer all these questions about my main character:

1. Name: Larkspur (so far lol). Age: 22. Gender: Female. Birth date: sometime in the summer.

Appearance: Medium height. Dark curly hair, brown skin. Disarming smile (this is a trap).

Backstory / trauma : she was born after the fall of society and has never known anything outside of the “after” - the world after the end of capitalism and climate catastrophe. Both her parents are dead and were dead when she was a baby so she’s never met them. She was raised in an orphanage. She’s never had enough but she’ll come to realize she had it good compared to others because her community was strong and close knit. She’s always felt displaced - a girl without a home, without a family. This makes her scared of being abandoned and her triggers happy reactions are all motivated by a desire to never feel left behind.

Goal: to leave her town and make it to the big market in the village. Real goal -> to get there and set up some sort of con so she’s never poor again.

Make her suffer -> she will be tormented by seeing what it really means to take from others and to harm and deceive. She won’t like it. She’ll also find herself taking part in an ever increasingly problematic organization that will make her realize that the world is so much bigger and so much more capable of cruelty than she even understood.

Relationships / who does she love -> she comes to realize that she has a family - she always did - and it has grown larger. She’ll realize that family can be chosen and it can always grow. She’ll fall in love with someone just as broken as she and she will come to see that even people like them are worthy of all the good things in life.

Give them a voice -> she is charming and a great narrator. She’s a great liar. But it’s all a performance really. She’s very vulnerable and not fully formed really as an individual. She’s unsure. There’s a soft core to her.

Make them grow -> Lark starts off selfish and somewhat immature. She blames everything she thinks is wrong with herself on the world and tries to take it out on others. She’s wrong frequently. She needs to hit her face against the metaphorical floor to realize things are more nuanced.

Glass -> she can be selfish AND self destructive. She’s afraid of being happy, thinks she doesn’t deserve it even though she wants it with all her heart. She’s the type to self-sabotage.

Anyway I think that’s all I can answer!

How to Write a Character

↠ Start with the basics, because obviously. Name. Age. Gender. Maybe even a birthday if you’re feeling fancy. This is step one because, well, your character needs to exist before they can be interesting. But nobody cares if they’re 27 or 37 unless it actually matters to the story.

↠ Looks aren’t everything… but also, describe them. Yes, we know their soul is more important than their hair color, but readers still need something to visualize. Do they have the kind of face that makes babies cry? Do they always look like they just rolled out of bed? Give us details, not just “tall with brown hair.

↠ Personality isn’t just “kind but tough.” For the love of storytelling, give them more than two adjectives. Are they kind, or do they just pretend to be because they hate confrontation? Are they actually tough, or are they just too emotionally repressed to cry in public? Dig deeper.

↠ Backstory = Trauma (usually). Something shaped them. Maybe it was a messy divorce, maybe they were the middle child and never got enough attention, or maybe they once got humiliated in a spelling bee and never recovered. Whatever it is, make it matter to who they are today.

↠ Give them a goal. Preferably a messy one. If your character’s only motivation is to “be happy” or “do their best,” they’re boring. They need a real goal, one that conflicts with who they are, what they believe in, or what they think they deserve. Bonus points if it wrecks them emotionally.

↠ Make them suffer. Yes, I said it. A smooth, easy journey is not a story. Give them obstacles. Rip things away from them. Make them work for what they want. Nobody wants to read about a character who just gets everything handed to them (unless it’s satire, then carry on).

↠ Relationships = Depth. Nobody exists in a vacuum. Who do they love? Who annoys the hell out of them? Who do they have that messy, can’t-live-with-you-can’t-live-without-you tension with? People shape us. So, shape your character through the people in their life.

↠ Give them a voice that actually sounds like them. If all your characters talk the same, you’ve got a problem. Some people ramble, some overthink, some are blunt to the point of being offensive. Let their voice show who they are. You should be able to tell who’s talking without dialogue tags.

↠ If they don’t grow, what’s the point? People change. They learn things, make mistakes, get their hearts broken, and (hopefully) become a little wiser. If your character starts and ends the story as the same exact person, you just wasted everyone’s time.

↠ Flaws. Give. Them. Flaws. Nobody likes a perfect character. Give them something to struggle with, maybe they’re selfish, maybe they push people away, maybe they’re addicted to the thrill of self-destruction (fun!). Make them real. Make them human.

↠ Relatability is key. Your character doesn’t have to be likable, but they do have to be understandable. Readers need to get them, even if they don’t agree with them. If your character never struggles, never doubts, and never screws up, I have bad news: they’re not a character, they’re a mannequin.

↠ You’re never actually done. Characters evolve, not just in the story, but as you write them. If something feels off, fix it. If they feel flat, dig deeper. Keep refining, rewriting, and letting them surprise you. That’s how you create someone who feels real.

Now go forth and write characters that actually make people feel something. And if you need a reminder, just ask yourself: Would I care if this person existed in real life? If the answer is meh, start over.

[untitlzd]

world class sin : prologue

sim jaeyun, park sunghoon, park jongseong x male reader.

After the contract is signed, Y/n stops asking why. He just shows up—quiet, pretty, dressed in whatever they hand him. The boys don’t want him there, not really. But the cameras love him. The mirrors follow him. Every rehearsal hurts. Every silence drips with resentment. And still, they keep him. Jay writes like he’s angry. Sunghoon dances like he’s alone. Jake watches him too long. None of them speak it aloud, but the feeling is the same: Y/n wasn’t earned. He was chosen. By the wrong people. For the wrong reasons. And now he’s theirs. Just twenty-three days until debut. Twenty-three days to become a fantasy.

warnings: idol!reader, objectification, industry power dynamics, emotional manipulation, possessiveness, voyeurism, obsessive behavior, gaslighting, celebrity exploitation, toxic relationships, industry elitism, ambiguous morality, dark themes of grief and identity loss, aestheticization of suffering, subtle yandere dynamics, inspired by The Idol and Anora.

please read before continuing:

CONTENT WARNING + Author’s Note World Class Sin is a fictional story. It is not real. The characters portrayed here are fictionalized versions inspired by public figures, but they do not reflect the real personalities, actions, or values of anyone in real life. This story is created purely for fictional storytelling and emotional exploration — nothing in it should be read as truth, reality, or a commentary on real people. This fic is made of dramatized emotions, and heightened dynamics set within a stylized, pressurized version of the global idol industry. Though it explores intensity, control, and desire, it is not intended to reflect what is healthy, safe, or good in real life. This story includes themes that may be emotionally heavy or difficult for some readers — such as emotional manipulation, objectification, isolation, possessiveness, psychological pressure, voyeuristic or obsessive dynamics, and moments where characters are treated as products instead of people. It also includes mature or NSFW scenes that reflect those imbalances — shaped by tension, not tenderness. The characters are morally gray. They are flawed, reckless, and often driven by desire more than compassion. They do things that are not admirable. And while those choices may be compelling in fiction, they are not excuses for real behavior — and they are not meant to romanticize harm. If you’re someone who’s sensitive to themes of control, emotional coercion, unwanted attention, or being dehumanized — please read with care. If at any point something in this story feels too close to home, too sharp, too familiar — you are allowed to stop. You never need to push through discomfort to prove anything. There is no story more important than your peace. You are not someone’s fantasy. You do not have to be ruined to be seen, or hurt to be held. If this story ever makes you feel small, unsafe, or alone — please, please take space. Close the tab. Drink water. Text someone who sees you clearly. Come back only if and when it feels right. And if it never feels right again — that’s okay too. Please don’t force yourself to return. This story does not deserve more of you than you’re able to give. From writer to reader — I care about you. I care about your well-being more than this plot or any fictional moment. You matter more than anything written here. Your softness, your boundaries, and your safety are always worth protecting. Please take care of yourself. You’re never alone in choosing yourself. With care, Luke.

Before the company. Before the cameras. Before the lights wrapped around his skin like a second set of hands and people began calling his silence presence — there was just Y/n.

Y/n, who used to sing under his breath in the backseat of his mother’s car while she drove barefoot, humming along to songs too old for the radio. Who used to dance in the kitchen at night while spaghetti boiled on the stove, barefoot on cheap tile, arms wide like the world couldn’t touch him. He didn’t want fame. He just liked how music felt in his chest — like proof that he existed. Like warmth. And she saw it. His mother. She used to say he was a light. A soft one. The kind that flickered gently in dark places, not to shine, but to keep people from feeling alone. She called him magic. Said if the world saw him the way she did, it would fall in love and never recover.

But the world never got the chance to meet her. She got sick, fast and cruel, like some invisible hand reached down and stole the only thing keeping his life from collapsing in on itself. One day she was folding his laundry and singing about the weather; the next, she was a name on a hospital file he couldn’t afford to print. The grief didn’t break Y/n all at once. It hollowed him. Slowly. Gently. Like a song that fades without ending. He didn’t scream or cry or destroy things. He just… stopped. Stopped talking. Stopped singing. Started disappearing one silent moment at a time.

There were nights he didn’t come home. Mornings he couldn’t remember where he’d been. Rooms he walked into that felt too hot, too cold, too loud. People touched him and he let them, but it didn’t mean anything. He didn’t feel ruined — just distant from his own body. He let strangers speak to him like they knew who he was. Let the world pull at the corners of his clothes, his mouth, his name. He wore her perfume for weeks after she died, just to remember what love smelled like. And eventually, even that faded.

So when a woman with too many rings and too white of a smile called and said she’d known his mother once, said she had a place for him, a stage, a future — Y/n didn’t question it. He didn’t even want it, not really. But he went. Because it was forward. Because it was something. Because standing still was starting to feel like dying.

They flew him to Los Angeles. No audition. No promise. Just a room, a contract, and a group that had already been chosen. A self-producing global project: stylists from Seoul, choreographers from London, a debut stage booked in MCOUNTDOWN before the ink had even dried. Jay, Jake, Sunghoon — three names carved into the industry like sharp things. Boys with scars. Boys with hunger. Boys who had given everything to be here.

And now, they had to stand next to Y/n — the boy who had given nothing but still looked like he’d been born in spotlight.

The executives were obsessed. He was everything they wanted without even trying. A beautiful, damaged blank slate. His trainee period was short — barely weeks. But that didn’t matter. They said he had that thing. The unnamable thing. They called his eyes marketable sadness. Big, glistening, expressive things that looked like he was always about to cry. Like he knew something you didn’t. Like he needed saving. And people wanted to save him. Or ruin him. Or both.

He was pliable. Innocent in all the wrong ways. And when stylists dressed him in sheer shirts and told him not to smile, he didn’t ask why. When vocal trainers told him to whisper his lyrics like they were secrets, he did. When photographers posed his hands limp and his lips parted, he obeyed. There was something in him that had been emptied out. And in its place, the industry poured something else — glossy and broken and dripping with want.

They didn’t see the boy in the kitchen spinning barefoot for no one. They saw the after. The glow of something burned too long. A boy with soft wrists and pretty bones and eyes like bruises. Something not quite alive but still moving.

And Y/n let them have it.

Because it was easier than remembering. Because grief had made him quiet, and now quiet made him desirable. Because being watched felt better than being alone.

Because when you’ve been loved by someone who saw your soul, you’ll spend the rest of your life letting people take your body just to feel something close.

They didn’t meet him on a stage. Or in a practice room. They met him in silence—late afternoon, overhead lights too white, the hallway outside the recording studio carrying the sterile smell of burnt coffee and industrial air freshener. The building always felt like that. Cold, new, over-designed. Like ambition lived in the vents.

Y/n stood alone in the corridor, tucked into a corner like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to take up space. His clothes were plain—company-issued hoodie, soft drawstring pants, shoes too clean. He looked like he’d been dropped there, like someone forgot to tell him what to do next. His hands were tucked in his sleeves, his gaze heavy and uncertain, big glassy eyes scanning the passing staff like he was waiting for someone to explain what his life had become. But no one did. People walked past him like he wasn’t real.

And inside the studio, the boys were waiting.

Jay had been mid-edit, headphones pulled halfway off one ear, track looping back on itself as he adjusted vocal layering. Jake had been at the whiteboard with a pen in his mouth, scribbling fragments of a chorus they hadn’t agreed on. Sunghoon was sitting on the floor, stretching in slow, practiced lines, watching his reflection in the glass.

When the door opened and one of the assistant managers stepped in, clearing their throat with a smile too tight, everything slowed.

“Your new member’s here,” they said. Simple. Blunt. As if it were a schedule change, not a shift in the entire balance of the room.

Jay’s eyes didn’t move from his screen. “What do you mean, new member?” His voice was flat. Controlled. But his fingers paused mid-click.

“CEO’s orders. He’s joining the lineup.”

Jake turned. Sunghoon didn’t blink. None of them said anything, but the silence that followed was louder than any protest.

And then he stepped in.

Y/n, soft-faced, quiet, impossibly still. His presence wasn’t loud, but it was there. It crept into corners. His eyes—those too-bright, too-sad things—flicked from face to face, not with confidence, but with the strange, hollow politeness of someone used to being tolerated, not welcomed. He bowed. Soft. Awkward. Like he wasn’t sure he was doing it right.

Jay’s stare was unreadable. He leaned back in his chair, one eyebrow lifting slightly. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. The tension in his shoulders said enough. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. They had trained for years together—fought, failed, rewritten songs through tears and caffeine and injury. And now this? A stranger in their studio? One they hadn’t trained with, hadn’t chosen?

Sunghoon stood. Slow. Measured. His body moved with dancer’s precision even now, coiled tight beneath the silence. His gaze swept over Y/n once, impersonal. Not curious. Just… calculating. Like he was adjusting choreography in his head to factor in a flaw.

Jake’s lips pressed into a line. He said nothing, but his grip on the whiteboard marker tightened, ink bleeding into the surface behind him like it had nowhere else to go.

And Y/n? Y/n just stood there. Looking at them. Looking past them. Not trying to explain. Not trying to smile. Just standing there with those trembling, ruined eyes like he already knew what they thought. Like he’d heard it before.

The manager gave a quick clap, like the moment needed wrapping. “Alright. I’ll leave you to it. He’s already got housing in your dorm. Training schedule starts tomorrow. Be good to each other.”

The door clicked shut.

And the silence collapsed into something heavier.

Y/n didn’t speak. He didn’t introduce himself again. He just stepped further into the room, slow, hesitant, like the floor might reject him. He moved toward the couch in the corner, sat down too carefully, as if afraid he’d take someone’s spot.

Jay turned back to his laptop. Pressed play. The track looped again.

Jake went back to the board, but didn’t write.

Sunghoon lowered himself to the floor again, more rigid this time.

No one told Y/n where to stand. Where to sit. What to do. No one asked his story. They didn’t need to. They had already decided what kind of person he was.

He was the fourth member now. A piece of a group he hadn’t earned. A replacement for someone they actually cared about.

He didn’t belong.

And in some twisted, brutal way—

That was exactly why they chose him.

The training studio was too bright in the next morning. Too clean. The kind of sterile, high-ceilinged space that didn’t allow mistakes to hide. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors on every wall, polished until they could catch even the faintest flicker of shame. The sound system buzzed faintly overhead. The air reeked of lemon disinfectant and effort.

Y/n was already there when the others arrived.

He’d shown up twenty minutes early, clutching a company-issued water bottle with both hands, like it might anchor him to the floor. He stood near the back wall, away from the mirror, staring at his own reflection like it didn’t quite match up. His hoodie sleeves were bunched at the wrists. His hair was still damp from the rushed shower. His eyes—their usual wounded-glass glaze—were unreadable, a little too wide, like he hadn’t slept.

He didn’t look like a trainee. He looked like someone pretending to be one.

Jay walked in first, earbuds still in, the collar of his jacket loose and unzipped like he’d sprinted from the studio just to be forced into this. He didn’t look at Y/n. Just dropped his bag at the wall and started stretching.

Jake came next, nodding curtly to the trainer stationed near the door, then immediately scanned the room. When his eyes landed on Y/n, something behind them tightened. It wasn’t surprise anymore. It was adjustment. A silent recalibration—how do you move around something you never asked for?

Sunghoon entered last. His expression didn’t change. It never did. He placed his water down carefully, tied his shoelaces like they were performance art, then stood in the center of the room and rolled his shoulders with the mechanical focus of a blade being polished.

“From the top,” the trainer called.

The music started.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t kind. It was the track they’d been preparing for weeks, long before Y/n had been added in. Heavy bass layered over precise percussion, punctuated with vocal stabs and hard cuts in the tempo. It's a song of the French House mixed with drum & bass and dubstep. The choreography was difficult—sharp hits, tight formations, no room to fall behind. It was designed to showcase unity.

Y/n was half a beat behind from the first step.

His movements were rehearsed, yes. Memorized. But not lived in. He danced like a soldier following orders, not like someone who believed in what he was doing. His limbs moved with calculated correctness, but there was no rhythm beneath it. No breath. Just mimicry. Just survival.

Jay didn’t hide his reaction. His eyes flicked up to the mirror mid-verse, caught the staggered rhythm in Y/n’s step, and narrowed. His jaw clenched. He didn’t say anything—but the tension in his arms as he hit his mark spoke volumes.

Sunghoon’s movements were a masterclass in control. Every pop of his shoulder, every step, every lift—clean, exact, devastating. But when they transitioned to group formation and Y/n brushed his side during a cross, Sunghoon’s body tensed. Only for a second. But it was there. A recoil.

Jake kept his eyes forward, lips pressed into a line. He hit every beat—fluid, magnetic—but you could feel it in the way his hands curled too tight on the downbeats, in the way his gaze skipped over Y/n whenever the formation pulled them too close. Not quite anger. Not yet. Just a loaded silence.

Y/n didn’t react.

Even when the trainer paused the track and called out, “Y/n—again. Your timing’s off on the first chorus.”

He only nodded. Stepped back into place. Counted under his breath. Reset his feet. Tried again.

And again.

And again.

By the third hour, the mirrors were fogged at the edges and the floor was streaked with sweat. The room reeked of it now—effort, frustration, resentment stewing under fluorescent light. Y/n’s hoodie was gone, revealing the too-thin tank top underneath, damp at the collar. His cheeks were red from exertion. His arms shook faintly when he raised them. But his expression hadn’t changed. He still looked like someone doing penance.

When they finally broke for water, Jay didn’t sit. He paced, wiping his neck with a towel, the lines between his brows deepening every time he glanced back toward Y/n, who was crouched by the wall, sipping water like it hurt to swallow.

Sunghoon didn’t speak. But his silence wasn’t neutral—it was sharp-edged, purposeful, a presence in the room like a wire stretched too tight. He pulled out his phone, thumb tapping idly, but his reflection in the mirror stayed fixed on the corner Y/n sat in.

Jake stood by the stereo, arms crossed, gaze down.

No one spoke.

Because nothing needed to be said. They were rehearsing for a debut that was supposed to be theirs—just theirs. Built on history. On blood. And now the fourth was here, soft-eyed and silent, fucking up the counts and soaking up the attention.

They weren’t teammates.

Not yet.

Just strangers in matching shoes, breathing the same stale air, waiting to see who would break first.

When the trainer finally called it, the silence that followed was louder than the music had ever been. No celebration. No breath of relief. Just the hollow, collective sound of sweat hitting polished floors and lungs still burning from the last chorus. Y/n stayed where he was, crouched low with his elbows braced on his knees, palms digging into the fabric of his pants. His chest rose and fell slowly. Measured. Controlled. The others didn’t look at him—not directly. They moved around him like he was a piece of faulty equipment no one had figured out how to replace yet.

Jay was the first one out the door.

He didn’t even bother pretending. His towel hit the floor beside his bag, and he stalked out of the studio with his jaw clenched and one hand already scrolling through his contacts like he was ready to start a war. Jake followed. Not as fast, but just as intentional. His water bottle was still full, untouched, swinging loosely at his side like a weapon. And then Sunghoon, calm as ever, but his gaze didn’t lift once—not to the trainer, not to Y/n. Just forward, like if he looked back, the thin thread holding his composure together would snap.

Y/n didn’t ask where they were going.

Didn’t ask if he should follow.

He sat there in the corner of the practice room, arms resting on his knees, hair stuck to his temples in wet strands. His eyes—those wide, silent, glassy things—looked straight ahead but didn’t see anything. They weren’t just tired. They were frayed at the edges, rimmed red, not from tears but from the ache of trying not to cry. It wasn’t the rehearsal that did it. It was everything underneath. The way grief builds like heat beneath the skin. The way loneliness makes your body too heavy. The way every second here felt like punishment for something he didn’t understand.

They hadn’t told him how much this would hurt.

Two floors up, the air felt different. Cooler. Quieter. The executive level of the building was all soundproof glass, imported marble, and lighting that made your skin look better than it actually was. Jay hated it. He hated the way the hallway echoed with silence, the way every piece of furniture was too expensive to sit on. He hated the waiting room outside the CEO’s office with its spotless magazines and staged smiles. But mostly, he hated that they had to come here at all.

He didn’t knock.

The receptionist barely looked up. “He’s finishing a call.”

“We’ll wait,” Jay said, already pacing. His voice was sharp, sure, dangerous. Jake didn’t say anything. He stood beside the window, arms crossed, watching the skyline like it had answers. Sunghoon sat, legs crossed, but his body was pulled taut. Even his stillness was strategic—like his breath could ruin the balance.

When the door finally opened, the CEO didn’t bother with greetings. “I assume this is about the new lineup.”

Jay stepped in first. “You assume right.”

The office was warm. Too warm. Designed to feel comfortable, inviting. But the weight of it pressed against their skin like humidity. Fake comfort. Manufactured trust. The CEO didn’t sit at his desk—he sat across from them, on a lounge chair like they were about to have a casual brainstorm session. That just made Jay angrier.

“We’ve been rehearsing this set for months,” he said. “We built this. The three of us. From scratch. And now there’s someone we’ve never trained with suddenly center in the marketing decks? You didn’t even ask.”

“He’s not center,” the CEO replied smoothly. “He’s presence.”

Jake’s knuckles flexed where his hands were folded. Sunghoon didn’t move.

“Presence doesn’t fix formation,” Jay snapped. “Presence doesn’t cover missed steps. He’s not ready.”

“He doesn’t need to be ready,” the CEO said, calm, like he was explaining something to a child. “He needs to be watched. And he is.”

Jay opened his mouth, then shut it again. There was something terrifying in how confident the man was. Like this had never even been a debate.

“He’s not the strongest dancer,” the CEO continued. “He’s not the best vocalist. But people don’t look away from him. We’ve tested it. Media, marketing, even styling. When he’s in the frame, he is the frame.”

“That’s not what we’re building,” Sunghoon said finally. His voice was low. Even. But the edge in it was impossible to miss. “This isn’t just a group. It’s a system. And he’s not part of it.”

The CEO nodded. Slowly. Like he’d heard that line before.

“And systems evolve. Especially the ones that want to last. You three are the spine. The sound. The foundation. But he’s the face.”

Jake looked away. His jaw twitched.

Jay was already standing. “You should’ve told us. Before it became official.”

“It’s been official since the day he arrived,” the CEO said. “The press release is already drafted. MCountdown is booked. You’re debuting in twenty-three days.”

Silence.

The kind that wasn’t hollow—but final.

Jay stormed out. Jake followed.

Sunghoon lingered for just a second longer.

Then he nodded once, almost imperceptibly. Not agreement. Just acknowledgment.

He understood now.

They were no longer building this group.

They were part of what had been built around someone else.

The door to the CEO’s office shut behind them with a soft click, but the silence it left in its wake was anything but gentle. The hallway stretched before them like a tunnel with no end, polished tile reflecting the muted overhead light, the buzz of fluorescent fixtures matching the hum in Jake’s ears. No one said anything at first. Jay stalked ahead, his shoulders rigid, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Sunghoon followed, his steps slow and even like he was regulating every inch of his body just to keep it from trembling. Jake walked last, still reeling from what had just been said, from the clarity of it — the certainty with which they’d been dismissed, replaced, rearranged around a single, silent newcomer with no past and no proof.

It wasn’t about talent. It never had been.

And that was the part that left a taste in their mouths like rust.

None of them had cried when their old friends were cut. When the lineups changed. When the fifth, sixth, seventh iteration of this group was dissolved and rebuilt again. They knew the rules. Knew how it worked. Survival meant adaptation. But this — this wasn’t survival. This was sabotage dressed up as strategy. They weren’t just making room for Y/n. They were being told that everything they had bled for was secondary now. That their work, their history, their nights spent collapsed in rehearsal rooms and vocal booths didn’t matter as much as the way he looked under soft lighting. The way his eyes stayed wide and sad, like he’d never learned to protect himself. Like the industry could devour him slowly and still leave room for dessert.

Jay stopped in the middle of the corridor, running a hand through his hair like he could scratch the thought from his skull. “He’s not even trying,” he muttered under his breath. “He just stands there. And they act like it’s art.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. The line of his jaw, the quiet rage in the set of his mouth, said more than words. Jake leaned against the wall beside them, arms crossed, staring at the floor like it had betrayed him.

None of them had asked for this. And yet—there it was. That image of Y/n in the studio, barely moving, barely breathing, and still somehow commanding every eye in the room. It was offensive. It was infuriating. And it was undeniable.

The executives had seen it instantly. They hadn’t looked at Y/n and seen potential. They had seen a product already in its final form. A face that could sell out stadiums and perfume ads. A presence that didn’t need to say anything because the silence did all the work. That was the trick — the way his grief softened his features, made his mouth look vulnerable even when closed. The way his eyes stayed glassy, as if carrying a sadness that hadn’t been explained yet, but begged to be understood. They didn’t need him to be perfect. They needed him to be breakable. Beautiful in a way that made people want to ruin him, gently. Slowly. With reverence.

“He’s not even acting,” Jake said suddenly, voice tight. “That’s just how he is.”

Jay glanced at him. Jake wasn’t defending him. That wasn’t what this was. But the words hung in the air like something dangerous.

Because it was true. Y/n wasn’t calculating. He wasn’t pretending to be tragic. He simply was.

And that made it worse.

Because it made people want to keep him. To protect what looked so fragile, even if it wasn’t. Because despite the resentment curling in Jay’s chest, despite the quiet loathing in Sunghoon’s gaze, and the cold irritation in Jake’s bones—none of them wanted anyone else to have him. Not the executives. Not the stylists. Not the audience. He was theirs. He was in their group. Their story. Their songs. He hadn’t earned it, but now that he was here, the idea of someone else taking ownership of him felt like a deeper betrayal.

That wasn’t love. It wasn’t even care. It was possessiveness in its most twisted, quiet form. The kind that festers when something soft is placed in a room full of people who’ve only ever survived by being hard.

“He’s gonna ruin this for us,” Jay said flatly, starting to walk again.

But Jake didn’t move. And Sunghoon lingered.

Because ruin wasn’t always fire and blood. Sometimes, it looked like a boy with eyes full of grief and hands that didn’t know what to hold onto. Sometimes it looked like innocence laced with something sensual — not on purpose, but in the way people wanted to project their filth onto something clean. Y/n had become that. Not even a person anymore. A screen.

And maybe that was the real reason they couldn’t stand him.

Because he made everyone want things they weren’t allowed to want.

They walked without speaking.

The street was mostly empty, the kind of late where everything felt quiet in the wrong way—like the city was holding its breath. The sidewalk stretched ahead in long strips of shadow and light, blinking from the neon buzz of 24-hour storefronts and the muted glow of passing cars. Jay’s steps were fast, agitated. Sunghoon moved more slowly, deliberate, his body carrying itself with the kind of practiced calm that only barely masked unrest. Jake followed behind, not dragging his feet, but not really pushing forward either. Just… moving. Like the floor might vanish if he stood still too long.

They were still full of what had happened upstairs.

The way the CEO hadn’t blinked when he said it. He’s not the center. He’s the frame. Like they were props now, scaffolding around something else. Like the years they had poured into this — the ruined knees, the vocal strain, the callouses, the panic, the loneliness — were just context for a face with the right kind of silence behind it.

It was insulting.

And worse — it was working.

Jay had known a thousand boys more talented than Y/n. He could name five off the top of his head who were better dancers, better singers, better alive in front of a camera. And yet none of them made the room shift like Y/n did. That haunted stillness. The eyes that looked too open to be safe. A softness that wasn’t weakness — just absence. Like someone had carved out the center of him and left the shell behind, and somehow that was beautiful. The stylists whispered about it. The executives didn’t even try to hide their obsession. They were already shaping him into the kind of icon people whispered about, idolized, wanted to break just to see what kind of sound he’d make when he fell.

Sunghoon hated it.

Not Y/n, exactly. Not yet. But the imbalance. The way the system bent around him. He wasn’t supposed to be part of their equation. The three of them had been trained together like a machine — interlocking, precise. They’d shared blood, floors, years of fighting. They knew each other’s timing better than their own. And now this… soft thing had been dropped in the middle of it all like a piece of furniture no one remembered ordering.

And yet — even Sunghoon had caught himself watching him. Noticing the strange angles of his silence. The way he held tension in his throat but not his shoulders. The way his lips stayed slightly parted, always, like he was trying to breathe in something he’d never been taught how to take.

It made you want to reach for him.

Or shake him.

Or both.

Jake didn’t even want to admit what it made him feel. There was something about the way Y/n existed that made people confused about what they were looking at. He wasn’t performing, but it still felt like he was always on display. Like the air folded around him differently. Jake had been around stars before — people who knew how to command a room. But Y/n was the opposite. He did nothing. He shrank. And somehow, that was worse. Because people filled the space around him with their own desire.

And it wasn’t just them. It was everyone. The marketing team. The vocal coach. Even the interns whispered when he walked past.

They didn’t look at Y/n like a person.

They looked at him like a suggestion.

And maybe that was the worst part. Jake couldn’t stop seeing it either.

It wasn’t sympathy. They didn’t feel sorry for him. They were too angry for that. But they also didn’t want anyone else to get too close. Didn’t want to see him styled in a way they hadn’t approved. Didn’t want to hear a stranger talk about his eyes like they meant something. He was theirs now, whether they liked it or not. Their problem. Their weak link. Their… whatever he was. No one else got to decide how far he’d fall. If anyone was going to cut him down, it would be one of them.

The dorm loomed ahead — bland building, dim lights, the shape of routine glowing behind the curtains. It looked the same as always. But nothing inside felt stable anymore.

Jay didn’t stop walking until the front door clicked open.

Jake’s fingers hovered near the code box, even though he already knew the numbers. Sunghoon stood beside him, eyes flicking up toward the dark window above the kitchen. No movement. No sound.

Inside, Y/n was probably on the couch again. Or in the corner of the bedroom with his knees tucked up, headphones in, expression blank. Or maybe asleep with the light on, not dreaming. Just suspended.

They stood outside for a moment longer than they needed to.

No one said it.

But something had changed.

And none of them knew what it meant that the boy they hated most — the boy they had every reason to resent — was already starting to feel like something they owned.

There was no word for it — what he made them feel. Not jealousy, not fascination, not pity. It was something heavier, messier. Something they couldn’t talk about without sounding sick. And maybe that was why none of them spoke as they entered the building, shoes thudding softly against the tile, the hallway narrowing toward their unit like the tension between their ribs. Jay was the first one to disappear into the kitchen, pretending to check the fridge, like he wasn’t picturing the way one of the stylists had leaned too close to Y/n during fittings, adjusting the hem of his shirt like she was dressing a doll she wanted to bite. It had made Jay want to throw something. And he didn’t know why.

He’d seen idols before. Had stood in the wings while others were stylized into stardom — molded, exploited, made desirable. But Y/n wasn’t molded. He just existed. And it enraged Jay, how easily the staff folded around him. How everyone treated him like something breakable but beautiful enough to be worth it. Jay didn’t want to touch him. Not really. But sometimes, in the silence after rehearsal, he imagined what it would feel like to shake him. To crack the quiet out of his body just to see what was underneath. Was it real? That dazed innocence? That polished fragility? Or was he just acting like everyone else?

In the living room, Jake paused by the door to the shared bathroom, eyes flicking toward the dim light under Y/n’s room. Still no sound. Still no presence. Jake had spent years building himself into someone who could perform what people wanted — a good trainee, a good idol, a lyricist who knew how to turn emotion into sellable lines. But Y/n didn’t write anything. Didn’t offer opinions. Didn’t even flinch when people spoke about him like he wasn’t in the room. It made Jake feel insane. And worse — it made him curious. Because every time the PR team mentioned Y/n’s face — those eyes, that mouth, the melancholy soft enough to brand — Jake caught himself imagining it too. The way his lashes curved wetly when he was tired. The way his lips looked when he was breathing too hard after a failed take. It wasn’t even attraction. It was obsession with the idea of him. The way you want to figure out a locked door just because you’re not allowed behind it.

Sunghoon didn’t follow them in right away. He stood in the stairwell a moment longer, hand braced against the wall, replaying the moment in the CEO’s office when one of the assistants had said, “He’s the kind of face people fight over.” Sunghoon had laughed — just once — too bitterly, too sharp. He hated how right it was. How every staff member treated Y/n like a prize and a burden in one. How they cooed over his bone structure, his posture, his silence, as if it were something trained. As if it hadn’t come from being emptied out. But even Sunghoon, in the stillness of his own mind, had started to imagine it too — the way Y/n’s body moved when he wasn’t performing, the twitch in his shoulder when someone startled him, the way his voice broke on certain syllables like he didn’t know how to ask for comfort. It wasn’t sexual, not exactly. It was something worse. Wanting to own the shape of his ruin before someone else made a mess of it.

They didn’t like him. They didn’t trust him. But they couldn’t stop watching him. And that was the problem — not just the threat he posed, but the way he unsettled something deep in each of them.

Not as a person.

But as a question.

A symbol.

A story waiting to be owned by someone.

And God forbid that someone wasn’t them.

note: hi, it’s luke. if you made it this far — welcome, and thank you for reading. this prologue is just the beginning of what world class sin is going to be. a small taste of something heavier. i’ve had this concept sitting with me for a while now, and writing it has felt like peeling back something slow, sharp, and a little too intimate. the themes are layered — obsession, grief, beauty, control — and that’s exactly where this story lives. in the spaces between what’s seen and what’s endured. there’s more coming soon, and things will only get deeper. the emotions, the tension, the unraveling — it’s all just starting. and if you’ve been peeking around the blog, you might’ve already caught a little spoiler floating around. hehe. thank you for being here with me. and while you’re here, make sure you’re also being kind to yourself. drink some water, rest your eyes, and go easy on your heart when you need to. more soon, luke :)

[nanacriedpower]

My favorite perspective in alien stage is the religious one

I think ALNST, above everything, is a story about human nature; about how human beings will always, even if the world we know disappears and the human race has to start again, create their own god. One of the main aspects that differentiate humans from other beings is the need for something to believe in; the inherent search for a purpose. The desire to fill a role and to find roles to your fellows.

Therefore, in a context where the otherworldly brought nothing but destruction; where else would the humans find divinity but in each other?

With this in mind, I got myself wondering which religious aspect each character represents and after thinking (and rethinking) my own answers, I was able to fit each character into an archetype from abrahamic religions (specifically Catholicism, since I was raised a Catholic so it’s what I know about best). Well, there it goes:

Till: hope/light

Till represents a hope for something different, in his rebellion, he brings the message that there might be more than this, than the situation they’re currently living in. His personal resistance brings the sense of hope and enlightenment; of an awakening in some kind. Hence, for Ivan, he’s like a shooting star, bringing light in the night as he burns.

Ivan: sacrificial lamb/devotion

Once I thought Ivan might represent martyrdom, but then I realized his sacrifice was not for a cause, or to give a message. It was done out of love, yes. But it was made to save a specific person, just like the “people of god” would kill the lambs and paint the doors with its blood to save their first born. In his case, he gave himself away as a proof of love, he was, simultaneously, Abraham and his son. An offer made purely because of and out of love and devotion.

Hyuna: Martyrdom

Different from Ivan, Hyuna didn’t sacrifice herself as a proof of her love, but as a massage OF love. She lived as the promise of a “paradise” (the rebellion) and died so Luka could learn how to love. She risked her life daily to spread a message and to try and save as many as possible. Therefore she died for and because of Luka’s sins, hoping her death would be his salvation from the numbness and indifference he treated human lives with. The “Luka” we see in the show, the hints of humanity he portrays, were Hyuna’s creation; the shadow forever haunting her mind was also her creation, for her friendship with Luka resulted, indirectly, in Hyunwoo’s death; and the Luka we’ll get to see after her sacrifice is also her creation. Her suffering is for loving the “perfect performer” too much: ironically, her so flawed and imperfect design. Her death was meant to absolve him for his sins. “Forgive yourself, for my death is going to clean you. From now on, live with love”

Luka: shame/guilt

Ironically enough, Luka represents the two emotions he doesn’t seem able to feel. Luka is able to bring these two out of the deepest drawers inside anyone that comes across him. These being the most powerful tools in religion, Luka is able to control the others by reminding them of what they lost and the self blaming and loathing that come together with grief. His power is inside foreigners’ minds, for he doesn’t seem to have much of an identity when he’s alone. In his relationship with Hyuna, it becomes worse, because not only she is reminded of what she lost but because she yearns to be cradled by the same hands that ended his brother’s life, and that sends her into a spiral of guilt, shame, hatred, but also the purest form of love.

Sua: divinity

Sua’s ethereal appearance isn’t the only thing that makes her godlike. She knows and withholds the truth about the macabre game they’re inserted in(omniscience), and yet, she appears composed and flawless most of the time. She is able to earn people’s trust even when not revealing part of what she knows, she is able to shield and protect them in a way. She makes decisions that involve others, without consulting them previously because they don’t need to know all her motives. Even with the illusion of her divinity being defied by mortality, her being the first to perish in the 50th edition eternized her in a way, for she started having a certain omnipresence in the narrative.

Mizi: innocence

Mizi’s obliviousness to the reality around her made her the chosen one by her god (Sua). The purity that comes from her innocence makes her able to live and love fully, being completely honest in every single aspect. Mizi hadn’t been corrupted by the fruit of awareness, therefore, temporarily she’s still living in paradise being the ANAKT her own Eden. That illusion ended in My Clematis, when she first had a philosophical realization: god is dead. ————-

I’d also like to point out, although each character has their own development and individuality, it is impossible to treat them as “their own person” in alien stage. Narratively, this is a story about human relationships and the characters existences are inherent to each other. For this reason, you might have noticed every single analysis has characters mentioned other than the main subject. Alien Stage’s dynamic of storytelling is in duos, “a la comedia del arte”. I’m adding this as a late disclaimer because I’ve seen a lot of misused “therapy speak” on this fandom and I can already hear the “they don’t depend on each other 👺👺👺” comments. They do. Humans are inherently social and we all depend on each other, which is maximalized in a universe where each other is pretty much (literally and existentially) all they have.

If I get any “they’re all toxic” comment people are getting blocked, not because they’re objectively wrong but this is the dumbest and more superficial way of analyzing the characters’ dynamics (in my humble opinion) and no one is about to piss me off on my own phone

thank you for coming to my ted talk🫃🏼

[shadessallow]

Why I think Kenlynn is crucial to the development of the series (aka my excuse to yap and show you guys my art, who cheered)

There is something that's very obvious when watching the show but I hardly ever see it being brought up and that is how little consideration of the consequences of her own actions Brooklynn has. And that is something that hasn't changed yet.

Don't get me wrong I absolutely love Brooklynn, but it's pretty obvious that she is not entirely aware of how her actions affect those around her.

The examples are countless, from Yasammy breakup to the remaining people in Nublar 6 getting killed multiple times (not even mentioning the emotional trauma that she put them through by faking her own death)

And while some decisions she had made are more or less explainable by the fact that she wanted to protect her friends, the cause of most of them are without a doubt the decisions that Brooklynn had made in the first place.

And her lack of consideration roots back to her relationship with Kenji. Or more specifically to their breakup.

It is no surprise to anyone that the breakup was Brooklynn's fault- neglecting her boyfriend for the sake of her own secret investigation. But the most important scene to understand how little consideration Brooklynn had for her own actions is the scene where she talks with Darius about their breakup.

She is blaming Kenji for the breakup, for not understanding her, because she was "only working". She doesn't fully realise how her own actions destroyed their relationship, as she blames Kenji for not understanding her.

And as much as I love Brooklynn as a character, there is no doubt that she is not the best person in the show. She is unaware of the harm she causes, while chasing something that she isn't even sure what it is.

It's also important to note that (as biased as it might seem) Dinostar is not working right now (!!!). Darius seems to be much more in love with his own imagination of Brooklynn, an adventurous, brave woman, rather than noticing the truth, how much harm is Brooklynn causing, while not even being aware of it.

Now. Why do I think that Kenji and Brooklynn are crucial to the development of the series? Because Kenji is the one who got hurt by Brooklynn in the most visible way.

He is aware that what she's doing is not right.

Contrary to Darius, he sees her whole, he knows who she is and that's why he breaks up with her.

It had been visible even back in Camp Cretaceous that her desire to chase the different cases she thinks of (which she is convinced are for the better, to protect her friends) has been an issue in her and Kenji's relationship (ofc in the 'first date' scene when she stood him up). We didn't get a solution to that issue back then, because of the Kenji plotline that happened right after, but it's always been an issue.

And her death affects him in a very deep way, as he becomes passively suicidal throughout the whole series (his father's death also has some cause in it, but the two are combined)

He is the one who suffers from Brooklynn's actions, even if he chose to isolate himself from her by the breakup, in an attempt to not get hurt.

Personally I think that for any development in the series, first it should be established that Brooklynn will have a change of character, some development. And as I said, I think her and Kenji's relationship, whether they get back together or not, is the best way to tackle the topic, to actually make her notice that she NEEDS to change to stop hurting the people around her.

Again, I do not think that Brooklynn is all bad, I just think that she makes bad decisions that lead to dangerous situations, and then she makes more bad decisions to protect her friends from said situations, without noticing that she is the one to cause the situations in the first place. That's what is so tragic about her.

Personally I'm also a bit salty about her and Kenji not fully working things out during the end of CC (all it took for her to trust Kenji again after he betrayed her was one apology more than he gave to Yaz and Sammy, which was really disappointing, because I personally was hoping for Brooklynn to have more emotions about the situation), so I am hoping that in Chaos Theory we finally have a serious conversation between those two that actually leads to anything.

So my prediction for the next season/s is that we will get the Nublar Six gradually realise that maybe what Brooklynn is doing isn't entirely good and that maybe at some point she should be stopped (she just took down the Broker, but she is not finished, finding a different thing to chase). How little consideration for their feelings she has, blinded by her own desire to get the job done, even if the job seems to be neverending. Since Sammy and Kenji already realised that, I think that Yaz and Ben might be next. Which leaves a great opportunity for Brooklynn and Darius to talk about it, cuz I firmly believe Brooklynn will notice that before Darius does.

But again, I think that for her to notice that, there will have to be an interaction with Kenji (possibly her noticing how her death actually affected him, something that Yaz had pointed out multiple times before, because the plotline of his passive suicidal attempts have not been yet resolved???)

Anyway, this was my silly rant + my excuse to show off some art!

Remember that it's fully subjective and biased (because I want Kenlynn to get back together, shocking I know).

Also the lyrics on the billboard are from Mitski- "Your Best American Girl":33

[allidoishuynh]

Just to add, "blood is thicker than water" with its more known and accepted definition is an older and more consistently used version of the saying than, "blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb."

In John Moore's Zeluco (1789), a character assures another in a letter that there is little danger in him forgetting his old friends "and far less my blood relations; for surely blood is thicker than water."

The phrase is also referenced in a collection of Scots Proverbs by Allen Ramsay (1737) and states the version "blood is thicker than water" as the complete form of the proverb.

"Blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb," is an interpretation that was first recorded in 1990 by author Albert Jack and rabbi Richard Pustelniac wherein they utilize a tried and true method to legitimize their interpretation by saying that it's the "original" meaning without citing any sources to support this claim.

ALL THIS TO SAY, sayings are just words. They're not universally correct and they change in meaning over years as the use of the saying changes and the morals of the time period adjust. "Blood is thicker than water" comes from a time when your family members were the only people you could generally rely upon to care about your well being and an overwhelming amount of time/effort spent was to try and improve or sustain the lifestyle of your current household (think who benefitted from all the effort of drawing water, cooking, choring, working a job, or making/washing clothes). In recent years this is less the case and a different interpretation of this saying is more valuable to modern relationships. That doesn't make the old meaning wrong, it doesn't make the new meaning the original, it just evolves.

"The customer is always right in terms of taste" was a very reasonable saying to develop in a time when individual sales are nontrivial income sources. But "the customer is always right," is far more appropriate in a world where capitalism overwhelming values repeat business and brand loyalty and where replacing a worker that won't let a customer run them over is as easy as reaching your hand out the front door and grabbing someone.

People saying, "the customer is always right" from a management perspective aren't "using the saying wrong." They're using a fundamentally different fucking saying that's adapted itself to an environment that cares more about how much money a billionaire can get from any individual customer than how much suffering it costs a worker to extract it.

[staticwaffles]

My thoughts on the second season. Not looking to start a conversation here. I just want to get my thoughts and feelings down.

Overall:

The show looked amazing. Somehow better than the first season.

The production and design teams deserve all the awards.

I loved the cinematography.

I definitely felt Britell's absence but I thought Roberts did a decent job with the soundtrack.

The cast give some of their best performances ever this season.

The highs of the season were very high (Ghorman arc, Mon's speech), but the lows were very low for me (writing choices for some of the characters and the time jumps).

The three episodes a week thing was brutal and I really wish we had one episode a week instead. I wanted to sit with an episode for a week to dig into it and discuss it with my friends. It also sucked having this season end so fast after waiting over two years for it.

The first season will always hold a special place in my heart, and I wish deep down we were given five seasons in that style, or at least three seasons. I felt the second season, particularly from a character standpoint, really suffered from the time jumps.

If the first season is a 10/10 for me, then the second season is an 8/10. For me, personally, the show succeeded in the story it wanted to tell, but didn't quite hit the mark as a Rogue One prequel.

Below are thoughts I wrote down after watching each arc, and then again after the finale. Warning: I yap a lot and don't make much sense.

Arc 1:

I have a weird relationship with this arc. It was very enjoyable, but the first two episodes felt like a bit of a departure from the usual tone of the series? And in retrospect, this arc felt really weird in the grand scheme of the season (and even the show). Not sure how to word how I'm feeling here.

I loved the opening sequence. Cassian's speech to Niya. Learning on the job when flying the TIE. It looked incredible and was a great way to open the season.

The acting of the two "leaders" of the Dipshit Brigade was not on the level of this show. Apologies, but their performances do kind of take me out of it.

Ben is great as Krennic (as expected). I like how they are setting up Ghorman here.

Bix being an older sister to Wilmon is very special to me and I love that dynamic.

"I'VE BEEN UPSIDE FOR TWO DAYS!" I am so sorry Cassian, but I laughed so hard at this part. I loved it.

Oh my gosh the dinner scene. Syril laying on the bed. Incredible stuff.

Bix has been through a lot, so I'm not sure how I feel about that scene happening to her character. However, I give kudos to the show for calling it what it is.

I liked seeing the wedding but I felt that too much time was spent here? Also RIP Tay.

Pretty sure they just wrote off B2 here. At least he's alive?

Brasso :(

Footnote since I've watched the finale. Did they really not once mention B2 or Brasso at all after this arc??? I was a little shocked Cassian didn't toast to him with Vel. These were both beloved characters and then they were just...gone. I know B2 made a brief appearance at the end, but come on.

Arc 2:

This arc was much more Andor-like than the first. But all three episodes being released was brutal on my first watch. There was SO much information to process.

I can't stress this enough. Ghorman looks AMAZING. Practical sets my beloved.

This arc solidified my love for Kleya. She is up there on my list of favourite characters. And Elizabeth is knocking it out of the park with her acting. This was further cemented for me in the finale.

I'm really enjoying what they are doing with Syril. As well as Dedra.

Cassian going undercover as Varian Skye and code switching was everything to me. I need more of this.

Mon and Krennic going at each other in a verbal fist fight oh hell yeah.

Bix and Cassian. Where to begin. They're cute, and Diego and Adria have great chemistry, but I am not liking the direction they are taking with Bix and how they are writing her. The revenge scene was cool I guess? But it happened very suddenly. I needed more build up to it.

Not going to lie, I was expecting Cassian to be more committed to the cause at this point given what happened on Ferrix, his reaction to Nemik's manifesto, Narkina, and the whole "kill me or take me in" thing. I also felt he was rather largely absent from this arc?

Cinta's death. Oh boy. Just why? It was way too soon after they just reconciled. Vel and Cinta have hardly had much screen time at this point. I think it was at this moment I realized how much the time jumps were hurting this season as a lot of character development takes place off screen.

Arc 3:

Easily the best arc of the entire season. Episode 8 and 9 deserve the high praise and ratings.

They really like making Cassian shirtless in episode 7, huh? I'm not complaining.

More Bix and Wil sibling dynamic ahhh my heart.

Yavin looks great! I just wish we got to see more of them setting up the base and recruiting people. Again, the time jumps are taking these things away from us.

I actually quite liked the part with the Force Healer. Cassian being the "messenger" and "there's some place he needs to be" bit. They also played a stripped/slowed down version of the music that plays when he dies 1) during that part, 2) when Bix tells him later what the Force Healer said and they hug, 3) when Bix tells Vel "he'll be there when you need him", and 4) when Cassian is telling Bix he's done and that "there are still places to go to", and yeah that broke my heart :(

Episode 8. What can I say. An absolute masterpiece. I don't think I'll ever stop hearing the Ghor singing their national anthem and Dreena's broadcast.

Syril and Cassian's fight was incredibly well done and well worth the two season long build up. Also Cassian going "who are you?" had me screaming.

I also thought Syril was very well written over both seasons. I understood his motivations and his reactions. I thought his ending was well done. Huge props to Kyle for absolutely killing it as Syril.

And then Mon Mothma. Oh my gosh. What an amazing character. She has been one of my favourites since the first season. And I really like how this show has given so much more depth to her character. Genevieve O'Reilly deserves all the awards for her performance.

Speaking of Mon, her speech was incredible, and I loved the use of Eulogy here. There's a small part of me that wished she got her own epic monologue soundtrack, though.

Mon and Cassian on my screen together. I really needed this. I also like how Cassian extracting Mon showcases why he is the guy for the job.

I quite like where they're taking Cassian here. Like I said, he's the guy for the job, but he doesn't want to be the guy. I didn't quite fully understand this until his discussion with Kleya and then later with Luthen where he says, "I make my own decisions" and Luthen responds with, "Is that what you've been doing?" Cassian is someone who wants to make his own choices, but hardly gets to. Ever since Maarva took him from Kenari, it's mostly been others making these major life choices for him. I see the impact of this when he lets Wil go find Dreena. Even though it kills Cassian on the inside, he won't take that choice away from Wil. Then in Rogue One, Cassian finally makes his own choices. Idk this take on Cassian makes him more complex and human to me, and I really like it. It also strengthens the parallels between him and Jyn.

My two complaints with the above point is that 1) this should have happened sooner in the season, and 2) his relationship with Bix is just not done well enough for me to feel that it's the major thing holding him back from being fully committed.

Speaking of Bix, she is pushed to the side this arc. She's an amazing mechanic, so why couldn't there have been scenes of her teaching new recruits? Or doing a weapons assessment? Or just doing something that contributes to the base? Her speech at the end, whilst sad and well acted, didn't really stick the landing with me. I like her character and just feel she deserved better :( also Adria does a great job playing Bix and I wanted to see more.

Same with Vel. I needed to see more of her here. Maybe a discussion with Bix about Cinta, Brasso, and all the others they've lost (edit: this took place in the last arc, but with Cassian instead of Bix. I'm glad it happened but I'm still salty at no Brasso mention).

At least K2 is here. I don't mind the way they've introduced him into the series, I'm just sad we only get one arc with him and Cassian together. He really needed to be introduced sooner for me.

Despite my grievances, this arc was phenomenal.

Arc 4:

Episode 10 was amazing. Luthen, and especially Kleya, were some of the biggest highlights of this show for me. It was a risk putting an episode like this in the final arc, but I think it ultimately paid off.

The rest of this arc was enjoyable, but it felt like a "oh shit we need to tie into Rogue One" arc. It was a bit jarring getting into this after Ghorman and Mon's speech in the previous week.

Having Melshi, K2, and Cass together on my screen is something I'm so grateful for (be still my secret little Melshian heart). I loved all their scenes together. Also, more Melshi is always a good thing!

Speaking of K2, I do wish we had more of him. I understand the decision to not bring him in earlier, but I still feel disappointed.

Cassian throwing himself over Kleya to protect her? Obsessed.

Goodbye Bryar pistol :( it doesn't look like he had it with him after extracting Kleya.

Loved Vel and Cass toasting to some of those who have fallen (still upset at no Brasso mention, though). And I loved seeing more Vel on my screen, especially with Mon and Kleya.

Holy shit that ending for Dedra. That interrogation scene with Krennic was terrifying as well.

Nemik's manifesto again!!!!!! And WOW that ending for Partagaz.

I was a little shocked at there being no Jyn mention? Or at least something alluding to her existence? I'm glad they mentioned Galen at least.

Not sure how I feel yet on Cassian's characterization in the show. I enjoyed a lot of what they brought to the character, but I felt like he didn't get as much development as he did in the first season? I guess I'm a little disappointed, but overall satisfied. Ultimately, I was hoping for better in the final season.

Loved the little montage at the end though of Cassian walking through Yavin to depart for Kafrene. I sobbed. He also watered his plants beforehand. And yes I cried at that.

Not particularly happy with the baby scene. I feel like Bix, in general, deserved more screen time (independent of Cassian) and better writing if this is where they were taking her. However, I'm just not a big fan of this trope in general...

I'm happy Wilmon is alive and with Dreena.

B2 my beloved!!!!

I am definitely due for a Rogue One rewatch soon.

[infinitemilk]

hey guys, i REALLY need to complain about some part of the arcane fandom and what would be the best place to talk about this other than tumblr? I need to complain about caitlyn's haters

I see that everyone treats Cait very badly because of the things she did, and of course, she did terrible things. just like jinx, vi, silco, jayce and.... almost all the characters in the series. she's no exception, so why does everyone treat her this way? Jinx killed her mother and idk if you've ever lost your mother or someone important to you, but the grieving process is so scary, especially when it's about your mother. I do NOT agree with the things she did, but it's kinda funny to see people glorifying jinx while condemning cait (note: I like both characters :p)

I also see people saying that Jinx and Vi lost their family too, as if it were some kind of competition to see who suffered the most. If I cut my finger off, my pain won't be less just because you cut two fingers off (I hope this metaphor makes sense, anyway, don't weigh people's pain. pain is pain, there's no such thing like "small pain" or "big pain")

I also see people saying that she manipulated Vi and made her betray her ideals. And come on guys, Vi is an adult. At no time did she threaten or blackmail Vi into joining her. Vi went of her own free will. She hit Vi because Vi stopped her from killing Jinx (who killed her mother) because of Isha (she was afraid that she would miss the shot).

Cough cough... What I mean is that Cait is obviously wrong, just like most of the characters. They are people and people make big mistakes. Especially when those they love are at stake. I also want to add that obviously the animators had a short amount of time to animate and develop and complete certain relationships. If you notice, the scenes change very quickly, almost as if you were shoving a lot of food down your throat, difficult to digest and understand. They did it this way to have more time to insert everything they needed, this explains the prison scene where Cait and Vi are together. A lot of people didn't like that scene because they thought they should have talked, and I think so too, but since the animators had a deadline, they decided to make them resolve it in a more personal way......

[notcryingtoday]

Oh the girl who's cursed to fall in love with every man that comes to her island... falls in love with a man that came to her island. And it's her happy ending.

That's... an interesting idea...

vs.

Oh the guy that feels like he doesn't belong in his friends group because he's not dating anyone just dates someone and all is solved instead of realizing friendship is as important as romantic relationships and that he's deserving of love anyway.

That's... a really interesting idea.

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

...like I do get where you're coming from here, honestly I do, and I really hope this isn't perceived as a attack, because things can be rough for Marius enjoyers, but I want to clarify things because there's a lot of miscommunication about people's relationship to Marius in this fandom? like we go into gothic horror to feel things, to feel frightened and repulsed, and that's good, but we don't always empathize specifically with the characters who make us feel that way. It's kind of like a Humbert Humbert situation--that's a character who suffers, objectively, gets dumped and locked up and dies, but the emotions generated by the stuff he does don't just go away. the negative emotions Marius generates don't get cancelled out by the suffering he experience, it's not that simple, especially since it's unclear how much he really changes (but not my point, lol).

I mean, I like Marius, sort of, and I definitely think he's the best villain AR ever wrote. he's one hundred percent a lot more of a multifaceted character than people present him as, he's a great example of the challenge that we do in fact go to these crazy books for. I reblog a lot of stuff about him, including from Marius enjoyers, I have nothing but respect for you guys. I like marimand a lot--I mean, it's my most written pairing in this fandom, I ought to like it--and on the whole my emotions aren't intense as other people's, but Marius is objectively a sexual predator. Phrases like "too young for a wet pleasure," "it was just the usual brain-jarring blow," "perhaps my frankly carnal embraces made the wall in his mind, between past and present, all the more strong," the use of "dazed and silent" for Amadeo the first time Marius touches him in b&g...regardless of your own opinions on historical context or whatever, these are things that will affect people more deeply than any of the cartoon violence Armand inflicts on other vampires, or the cartoon violence vampires inflict on humans in general, because it feels more real, more frightening.

calling these emotions 'performative' (which you haven't, but I've seen people do) feels like a disservice to the complexity and impact of the books, and the sensitivity of the real-world horrors they confront. (I believe that people also have similar feelings on David considering his own sexualization of children, but I haven't read the David books atp so I'm not going to go there). Marius being a character who suffers and mourns and gets celebrity crushes and also abuses the people in his life is such a good and necessary example of the complexity of real-world abusers, but he's still going to generate intense reactions, even for people (like me) who don't really care about dm. and if ar truly didn't want that, she wouldn't have written the things she did.

my point is that there are probably some people who do in fact hate Marius for ship reasons, or simply not being able to handle the topics expressed, but there are also plenty of people who are capable of exploring sexual abuse in fiction, but don't have a lot of sympathy for Marius doing these things, and view him negatively as a result. your statement that 'most' people who hate Marius do so for ship reasons suggest some kind of ongoing miscommunication about this issue that I hope my extremely long-winded response will clarify.

tbh i just disagree with the fandom, i think most people primarily hate marius because people wanted more devil's minion content and instead in a pagecount kind of way, armand and marius and frankly david and lestat kind of run away with it. "marius isn't punished enough" dude you don't want people to be punished for stuff. you think armand was sufficiently "punished" for killing claudia and madeline? that little guy skates. look i know how it is. i actually like devil's minion a lot and think that specific chapter is as good as it gets. but idk you can't really get mad at anne rice books for not giving you what you wanted. she would never have wanted you to have that. she would never want you to read a book that was exactly what you wanted in an unchallenging way.

and tbh if armand and daniel were clearly and confidently on on-screen-ily together at the end of blood communion i think that would also affect this discussion more than people are admitting, but the reality is daniel's status at the end of the series in general not just with respect to armand is a big fuckin ???? . i dont like that either but i don't read anne rice books to "get stuff i like", i read them like getting ready for a wet t-shirt contest where the winner gets an uzi

if david and his relationship with lestat were totally unchanged and louis did forever-die at the end and/or was straight up not around, you'd see more david hate too (where david's not POPULAR but he's not generating that much discourse honestly)

that said, feel bad for the quinn blackwood people, now there are some fans who got hosed

[flowersandfashion]

sorry let me rant about downton abbey 10 years later

Thomas's conversion therapy plot pisses me off so much. firstly, it's incredibly out of character. he never wanted to change to conform to society, he wanted the world to change to accomodate him. the man who said "it's not against the law to hope is it" and "I'm not foul, Mr Carson, I'm not like you, but I'm not foul" would NEVER

secondly, from a storytelling perspective, the only 'problem' is that he used infected needles. did we forget that Thomas was a sergeant in the RAMC? he knows how to sterilise needles and how to recognise and treat infection. this also shifts the blame to Thomas himself for getting sick and implies that the conversion therapy itself is harmless (Dr Clarkson says it's just saline solution)

thirdly, it's not historically accurate. I'm not an expert but conversion therapy was not at all common in the 1920s, even Sigmund Freud was against it. hormone therapy and chemical castration were barely developing let alone available to the public (I can't imagine what else the 'treatment' was supposed to be). the only practices that I can find evidence of were psychoanalysis and electric shock therapy

Thomas also mentions that he did electric shock treatment - if you really want to make a point about homophobia in the 1920s (and make Thomas suffer as much as possible), show that instead. watching him be literally tortured for his sexuality would have been far more impactful than him just... looking sweaty for a few episodes

[ninkaku]

strange behaviour from the arcane fandom when a woman that has relations with another woman goes down a darker path and people condemn her whereas if she was a man in love with another man this would be lapppped up as “toxic yaoi”. please get a grip

[maxdibert]

If you don’t want to get a couple of slaps of reality, then don’t come HERE in the first place to moralize ME about my family trauma, my personal trauma, and the trauma of my country. YOU are the one who made that shitty post trying to frame me as someone making Nazi jokes out of context, YOU are the one who accused me of being a Nazi, YOU started all of this. And now what? You tuck your tail between your legs because it turns out you don’t know shit about history or international politics, and surprise: you're not the fucking geopolitical center of the world? Turns out you had to eat your own pile of baseless hatred and swallow it whole because you spoke about my life and my political stance without having the slightest clue, and now you’ve been burned?

What things did you bring up that don’t exist in other countries? Every country has extreme racist policies, in every country LGBTQ+ people are persecuted. I’ve been at protests where ten minutes after saying goodbye to a union comrade, that same comrade was attacked by actual neo-Nazis (yes, real ones, literal descendants of fascists, not the bullshit you people make up about fictional characters), and they got their face smashed in. I’ve fought—literally fought—TERF women at an 8M march because if my trans comrades had done it, they would’ve been filmed and it would’ve been used against them. You're not telling me anything new, you’re describing the day-to-day life of any person in this society. Just like me, a cishet woman (a word you and your buddies love to throw around, it seems, because apparently activism now includes denying the experiences and trauma of cishet women), I’ve been harassed, I’ve been attacked and sexually assaulted, I’ve suffered sexual violence in relationships, I’ve faced attempted rape in clubs, etc. etc. etc. What are you telling me that I don’t already know?

The difference between you and me is that I don’t go, for example, to someone from LatAm to explain how political corruption works, because as a European, I have no right, and because they know perfectly well what it’s like being victims of corrupt governments and oligarchies. Nor do I go explain to someone from Ukraine what the USSR was like, because I’d be ashamed to death. But you, some States' dude, came to me—a spanish woman, from one of the last monarchic and ultra-Catholic strongholds in Europe, with a 20th-century history marked by extreme poverty and fascism—to explain the Holocaust to me? To ME? Someone whose family was directly affected by wars against fascism for more than a decade? To ME? Whose parents were on file with the political police? Don’t you realize how pathetic you sound—like a Spanish, Englishman or Portuguese trying to explain colonialism to someone from LatAm or India? And all of this for what? Because you’ve got a grudge against someone on the internet you don’t even know, someone with a political activism background you’ll never come close to even if you lived three lives, and whom you want to slander just because you don’t like her?

Do you realize the absolute fool you’ve made of yourself? Do you realize what a clown you are? Just like you're a biphobic asshole telling someone they can’t talk about lesbianism because they don’t only date women. You people understand absolutely nothing, and you think the world revolves around your little internet performances. Honestly, you're exhausting.

If you’re going to reply again, I hope it’s to give a proper fucking apology or at least admit you’ve been a loudmouthed ignoramus who seriously fucked up, because otherwise you’ll hit rock bottom in shamelessness and indecency. The day you walk into the headquarters of an organization literally founded by a fascist, with a tradition going back nearly a century, and have a physical and verbal confrontation with real neo-fascists with a historical legacy and actual representation in Parliament then you can come give me lectures about political humor or edgy jokes. Until then, keep “fighting for people’s rights” by dressing up YA book characters in crop tops in your fanfics, I’m sure that’s helping society a whole lot.

its actually incredible how hypocritical you are, you cannot say youre upset about someone disrespecting the holocaust or having zero respect for those asking them to not exploit a genocide (both of which didn't actually happen, all that was said was that death eaters are comparable in the way nazis also intended to ethically cleanse a race) and then make a "satirical" post about them being nazis. the way it reads is that its a joke, and then whos disrespecting the holocaust?

its not funny. its not cute. you sound like a nazi.

@maxdibert

[spoondoodles]

I blacked out and more Logince HS AU appeared on my canvas idk what happened (also ty @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat for some inspiration sorry it took so long to make a post about Them <3)

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Asunder

slow-paced high fantasy

a woman who has a contract with an eldritch entity allowing her to see the dead & survives by taking various jobs

when a job searching for stranded smugglers in a cave goes wrong, she ends up with the soul of a dying stranger bound to her shadow

along with a scholar and her old childhood friend, they travel to his home country to find a way to unbind him and save them both

dark fantasy world with gods, demonic entities, arcane magic, and semi-sentient beasts used as transport

[silviakundera]

Haha I also used the dickless bore. I thought that only the two main characters came back didn't know he did as well. I still don't buy him ever being into her but that's just me I do wonder if he's going to try and kill her again. I do think Li Rong is treating him too well for my liking she should at least treat hit similarly or worse than she treated ML I want to see wet paper towel non stop suffer.

on one hand, imo a SRQ who is heartless doesn't work for the story the writer is trying to share with us. On the other hand, it's totally ok to decide to be a full-time hater towards a minor character, just because it's fun. I support haters! 🎉 \o/ 🎉

One thing that I think is relevant when comparing LR's reactions: if PWX had killed her, the motive would have been as part of his mission to have his childhood love Qin Zhenzhen's son become the next emperor. (Remember, he came over to threaten her life over that right before she died and called his ex Zhenzhen lmao) THE AUDACITY. In contrast, LR is viewing her murder at SRQ's hands as part of the revenge plan for the Su family's execution.

Some passages of Li Rong's POV:

After a few moments, she whispered: “Where did the scent on you come from?”

“If I say it, you might be upset.” Pei Wenxuan’s eyes had a hint of gloating at others’ pain.

Li Rong thought for a while and frowned, “Su Rongqing?”

“Yes.”

...Li Rong said nothing. She blankly stared into the fire.

Pei Wenxuan turned the fish over and looked at her with a smile, seemingly quite happy. Li Rong found that he had a fearless, unabashed look of enjoying a good play and couldn’t help but be a little fazed.

She believed everything Pei Wenxuan said.

---

Su Rongqing was someone that she saved with her own hands.

That year, Prince Su rebelled, and Su Rongqing’s elder brother spoke up for Prince Su. Later on, he was falsely accused of colluding with Prince Su, implicating the Su clan with treason.

At that time, Li Chuan was so furious that he fainted. He put the entire Su clan in prison without going through the Joint Trial of Three Divisions first and put the men to death and the women into exile. She disagreed with this decision and rushed to beg Li Chuan before the Su clan received their sentence. After being subjected to ten planks, with Pei Wenxuan’s intervention, she was finally able to ask for amnesty for the Su clan.

Even if the death sentences can be forgone, it was impossible to escape punishment while still alive. Even though the men of the Su clan could live, they would be subjected to castration. The others couldn’t bear the humiliation, so they all committed suicide in prison. When she arrived, there was only one man “desperate for life and afraid of death” left among the men of the Su clan, Su Rongqing.

At that time, she had told Su Rongqing that she saved him without the intention of asking him to repay her. She could give him silver and a position, so that he could continue to live a good life in the future.

Back then, she didn’t have any special feelings towards Su Rongqing. It was just that he had saved her before, so after he took care of her, bit by bit, she felt grateful, and…vague sentiments towards him.

For the most part, she sought to save the Su clan for Li Chuan and her own conscience. The Su clan was a prominent, noble family. It was difficult for her to sit back and watch if they died in such an ambiguous manner.

At that time, Su Rongqing refused to go.

...It wasn’t that she had never thought that Su Rongqing would not take revenge on her. After all, it was Li Chuan who ordered all the men of the Su clan to be beheaded and exiled all the female family members. It was impossible for anyone to forget this blood feud, let alone the formerly first and most outstanding gongzi of that year?

For so many years, she had never dared to give him real authority, observing him and guarding against him while still trying to help him live a better life. She couldn’t actually kill him because of her own conscience, but she couldn’t actually trust him and give him power.

In the end, he still decided to act. He killed her first, then successfully took her authority in the name of eliminating Pei Wenxuan. If she guessed correctly, he would not leave with the advisors. Instead, he would borrow the excuse of taking revenge for her and enforcing the will of the people to join forces with the Empress, assist Li Xin in ascension, and fight to the death against the remnants of Pei Wenxuan’s faction.

...

She had anticipated this possibility from the moment she took Su Rongqing in, but she couldn’t help feeling a bit regretful when it actually happened.

[doingmylevelbest]

I need all the Tim Drake angst rn please I CRAVE it