#but then again do need an audience? not really

[haemey]

I had a show that was mostly set on a lake. There was fog on the ground with blue lights to make it look like water. This dissipated after about 30 sec, but it's enough to set the scene. We had two wooden piers on wheels, one on either side of the stage, that could be moved in and out of the scene as needed. And one of the characters was a ferryman. He had a little boat, also on wheels, and one of those long sticks to push the boat along like a gondoliere. He would come in on one side of the stage, with some momentjm from bein pushed in by stagehands, then either move to the other side or stop in the middle for an aria or something and then get going again. We also had lights in the back that would move across to make it look like the landscape would pass by. I was able to watch one of those scenes from the audience and it looked so real!

(We also had two guys playing that ferryman character. One was really good at moving the boat, the other... was not. We were three girls who were supoosed to wait on the pier for the boat, get in, help turn the boat around, push off, then listen to him sing in the "middle of the lake" and then get off the boat on the other side. Most of this was no problem, but getting the boat to move again was difficult. The dude who wasn't as good at it regularly steered us towards the trench, or had problems moving the boat after it had come to stand. Once, one of the other girls had to get out and pull the boat to the pier (which, thankfully, got pushed in just a liiittle bit further than usual).)

I once did one where we had no props whatsoever, and basically no stage. We had the floorplan of the building we were in marked on the floor with black tape (it was a white-ish stone floor, we were performing in an old church that had been turned into a concert space). I played an old woman who walked with a stick. Except I had no stick. And we started the performance with all of us lying face down on the floor. So I had to learn to get up with aching joints and a non-existent stick. At one point, we had to touch the non-existent walls of our building. Afterwards, someone Inkne from the audience told me they had to do double takes all the time because they couldn't believe I held nothing. I am still immensly proud of my no-stick skills.

The one I'm working on right now (premiere is next week, whoooo) also has basically nothing on stage, except six chairs. At one point, I build a circle out of them around myself. A loose one. That I can't get out of. It's the cartoon "oh no I cannot get out of this prison where the bars are a meter apart oh noooo" thing and it's ridiculous and it's believable because it's symbolic and it's theatre.

If the performers believe something, the audience will, too.

If the performers don't believe in it, neither will the audience.

But if you do believe it, you can get away with so much bullshit, it's great.

genuinely, i think watching live theatre can improve your media literacy so much

like people who look at doctor who and are like 'lol the effects are so rubbish'

maybe watch a stage play where there's no backdrops and half the characters are played by the same three guys in different hats and maybe you will calm down

[kimmie2me]

HEYYY I LUV UR POSTS LIKE HELLO?!?! also im sure u know abt the bakugo hc with him with him having hearing aids and is it ok of u make like a fic with him signing nasty stuff to reader cuz he can and nobody around them fully learned sign language yet? PLS AND THANK U!!! 💕💕💕

first of all, THANK YOU!! ILYSM!! second, i am BACK!!!! exams went well, i guess. i didnt PASS or FAIL, but whatever.. third, I LOVE THIS IDEA HAHAHHA!!! here is, what I think, a great welcoming back gift to give u all ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ (ignore that Kaminari's text is blue..there's no yellow. ALSO, mina is NAWT taking pink. thats OUR color now.)

Of Silence and Secrets

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Pro Hero!Bakugou x AFAB!Pro Hero!Reader

…..

Bakugou Katsuki hated his hearing aids.

Hated how they fit, hated how they felt, and most of all, hated what they represented. Weakness. A crack in the armor he’d spent his entire life forging. When the ringing in his ears started as a brat in middle school, he didn’t think much of it. Just the fallout from a quirk-boosted explosion, nothing he couldn’t handle.

Years passed. The ringing grew into dull hums, muffled voices, and missed sounds. A villain’s retreating taunt he couldn’t catch. The screech of a car he didn’t hear. Kirishima shouting his name three times before Bakugou finally turned around, snarling, “What the hell do you want!?” while Kirishima just looked… worried.

His hearing aids were a damn nuisance. At least, that’s what he told himself every single day.

They whined if someone got too close, buzzed when he adjusted them wrong, and gods forbid he so much as grazed them during a fight—one hard knock, and they’d go flying. He could hear again, sure, but better hearing came at a price: realizing just how insufferably loud the world actually was. Katsuki had spent months in denial, refusing to accept that his ears, like the rest of his high-octane life, couldn’t keep up with him.

The ringing had started in his late teens, growing louder until it followed him everywhere. He blamed it on the explosions, the debris, the constant yelling—but really, he knew. His mom did too, though she’d spared him the lecture until the day Kirishima cornered him in his agency office with a sheepish grin and her voice on speakerphone.

“Katsuki.” The way she said his name—sharp, biting, and so unlike her usual bark of “Oi, you brat!”—made his stomach drop. “What if somethin’ happens? What if you miss an evac order or—hell—a cry for help? Hah? What then?”

“… Tch.” He had scowled so hard it hurt. “Fine. I’ll get the damn things.”

The intervention was humiliating, but the worst part? She was right. He hated that more than anything.

That was the first night he slept with the hearing aids sitting on the nightstand. He’d finally picked them up after a year of constant badgering—from his mom, Kirishima, hell, even that damn Deku. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hear better—it was the admission that killed him.

But now? Now the stupid things were glued to him. Mostly.

The tech was incredible, of course. Damn nerds at Hero Support had outdone themselves. The hearing aids didn’t just amplify sound; they filtered it, isolating voices during chaos and syncing with comm units. They were waterproof, explosion-proof—Bakugou-proof. Allegedly.

But they weren’t indestructible. He’d broken five pairs in six months. Kaminari had nicknamed him “Break-aid” after the third replacement. Bakugou threatened to shove them where the sun didn’t shine.

And yet… they worked. Too well.

He could hear the scratch of pens during hero conferences, the obnoxious tapping of Kaminari’s foot against the table, the quiet sigh of his own breath. The worst part? The incessant talking. It was everywhere. Fans, reporters, civilians—people who thought their every word needed an audience.

Thankfully, he’d discovered the mute button.

The first time he used it, Kaminari was midway through a rant about his latest gadget. Bakugou, in a rare moment of self-control, didn’t yell. He just flicked the switch, leaned back in his chair, and smirked as Kaminari kept babbling. No explosions, no shouting, just blissful silence.

But there were downsides.

Combat was a nightmare when they broke. Shouting “HUH!?” every five seconds wasn’t exactly strategic. That’s when he decided to learn sign language. Not because anyone suggested it—hell no. But because he’d be damned if he relied on a gadget to do his job.

The process was… frustrating. Hands clumsy, movements stiff. Kirishima tried to help, but his signs were barely legible. Kaminari? Useless. Sero was too busy laughing to be much better or resorted to typing in the Notes app on his phone when it was pretty serious. Deku? That nerd had picked it up in a week, naturally.

But you? You made it bearable.

“Like this,” you’d said, your fingers forming a perfect sign. “Thumb tucked in.”

Bakugou grumbled, but copied you.

“Good. See? That wasn’t so bad, was it, ’Suki?”

Your patience annoyed him almost as much as it calmed him. And somehow, over weeks of practice, his stiff movements turned fluid. He’d never admit it, but he liked having this… language, this connection, with you.

And then he realized something else.

You understood him. Not just the signs, but him. The sharpness he couldn’t quite soften, the quiet gratitude he couldn’t voice. And better yet? No one else around him could understand a damn thing he was saying.

It started innocently enough—well, innocent by his standards.

“Bored out of my goddamn mind,” he’d signed at you during a hero conference.

You’d smirked and replied, “Same.”

But then, Bakugou being Bakugou, had an epiphany: he could sign anything.

The first time he tried it, you were sitting across from him at a formal hero banquet. The room was filled with pro heroes, reporters, and politicians. Everyone was dressed to the nines, sipping champagne and pretending the world wasn’t on fire outside.

Bakugou caught your eye and, with the most deadpan expression, signed: Wanna fuck?

Your head snapped up so fast you nearly knocked your glass over. You choked, coughing into your hand, and when someone asked if you were okay, you waved them off, avoiding his gaze.

He smirked, sipping his water like he hadn’t just propositioned you in a room full of Japan’s elite.

…..

It got worse.

During a meeting with the Hero Public Safety Commission, while a bureaucrat droned on about policy changes, Bakugou’s hands moved under the table. He made sure you were looking before signing: I’d rather have you ride me than sit here with these extras.

You froze mid-note, the pen slipping from your fingers. Your face burned as you ducked your head, pretending to scribble something in your notebook. Across the room, Kirishima noticed your sudden movement.

“Hey, you good?” he whispered.

“Fine!” you squeaked, glaring at Bakugou.

He tilted his head, feigning confusion, then casually leaned back in his chair. He looked so smug you wanted to scream.

At a press conference, surrounded by the press corps, TV cameras, and the elite of the hero world, Bakugou stood stiffly at the podium, bored out of his skull. Beside him, you shuffled the note cards you’d prepared, doing your best to stay focused on Midoriya’s answer to a question about villain reform strategies.

Bakugou glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, smirking at how focused you looked. That only made the idea pop into his head faster. He adjusted his stance, one hand casually coming up to rub his neck as the other signed with precision:

I’d fuck you so hard over this podium, the microphones would short out.

Your brain stalled like a computer blue-screening. The cards slipped from your hands, scattering onto the stage floor. You froze in horror as a sea of reporters looked up from their notebooks.

Midoriya, ever the anxious public speaker, stopped mid-sentence. “Uh, are you okay?” he asked.

“Y-yeah! Just... clumsy!” you stammered, dropping to your knees to collect the cards. You didn’t dare look at Bakugou, whose hand came up to his mouth as though stifling a yawn—but you knew he was hiding a smirk.

To make things worse, while you scrambled on the floor, he signed again, deliberately slower so you couldn’t miss it:

Would’ve pulled your hair too, just to hear you scream.

Your face burned so hot you were sure you’d melt through the stage.

It didn’t stop there.

At the next agency-wide meeting, Bakugou sat across from you in the conference room, arms crossed as a pro-hero you couldn't bother to listen to went on and on about new combat protocols. The room was packed with pro heroes, all seated shoulder-to-shoulder.

Bakugou, who’d already tuned out after the first ten minutes, caught your gaze and raised an eyebrow. Before you could react, his hands moved subtly under the table:

I’d eat you out on this table, right in front of everyone, and make sure you couldn’t stay quiet.

The coffee cup in your hand slipped, splashing onto your notes. You cursed under your breath, grabbing napkins to clean the mess.

Kirishima, sitting beside you, leaned over. “Whoa, you okay? You’ve been jumpy lately.”

You forced a smile, not daring to look at Bakugou, whose expression remained infuriatingly neutral. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

It became a game to him.

While Kirishima nodded and went back to his notes, Bakugou adjusted in his chair and signed again:

Bet you’d cry if I used my mouth the way I’m thinking. Probably beg me to stop—but you wouldn’t really mean it.

You slammed your pen down so hard it startled Kaminari, who glanced over with a confused look.

“You good?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” you snapped, refusing to look up.

Across the table, Bakugou leaned back, feigning boredom, but his eyes glinted with amusement.

It escalated during a casual outing with the crew.

Everyone had gathered at a bustling ramen joint after a long patrol, crowding into a booth that was way too small for so many people. Bakugou sat to your right, thigh pressed against yours under the table. As the conversation flowed around him, he picked up a pair of chopsticks and casually started eating.

Then, as Mina told a story about her latest villain takedown, he turned his head slightly toward you and signed with one hand:

The things I’d do to you under this table would make you scream so loud they’d kick us out.

You froze, chopsticks hovering mid-air. He didn’t even blink, slurping his noodles like he hadn’t just dropped a verbal nuke into your lap.

“What’s wrong?” Mina asked, noticing your deer-in-headlights expression.

“Uh… spicy broth,” you choked out, grabbing your water and gulping it down.

Bakugou, still chewing, glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and added another one for good measure:

Bet I could make you cum without anyone noticing. Wanna test that theory?

You almost choked on your drink, coughing so hard Kirishima patted your back in concern.

At a charity event, he raised the bar again.

The ballroom was filled with reporters, politicians, and wealthy donors, all eager to mingle with Japan’s most famous heroes. Bakugou hated these events with a burning passion, but at least you were there to make it tolerable.

You stood beside him, chatting politely with a group of businessmen, when you felt his gaze on you. Slowly, you turned your head, already dreading what was coming.

He didn’t disappoint. With the straightest face you’d ever seen, he signed:

You’d look so much better on your knees, with my cock down your throat, than in that dress.

Your hand shot out, nearly spilling your champagne as you fumbled to keep your composure. The Pro Hero you were speaking to paused mid-sentence, giving you a concerned look.

“Are you alright, ma’am?”

“I—I’m fine,” you stuttered, setting the glass down before you could break it.

Bakugou tilted his head innocently, signing again:

Bet you’d love it if I bent you over that balcony upstairs. Bet you’d be dripping by the time I was done.

Your jaw dropped, and you 'accidentally' kicked his shin under the table. He didn’t even flinch.

It wasn’t just formal settings, either. Bakugou would strike anywhere.

During a team training session, you were sparring with Kaminari while Bakugou watched from the sidelines. When you finally landed a clean hit, knocking Kaminari flat on his ass, Bakugou clapped slowly, catching your attention.

Wanna know what else you could knock flat? Me. On my back. With you riding me till I forget my own goddamn name.

Your sparring stance faltered, and Kaminari took the opportunity to trip you.

“Hey, you alright?” he asked, offering a hand to help you up.

“I’m fine!” you snapped, shooting a glare at Bakugou, who was grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

The worst of all came during a live broadcast.

The Hero Public Safety Commission had organized a televised Q&A with Japan’s top heroes. You sat between Bakugou and Midoriya, fielding questions from both the moderator and the live audience. Bakugou had been unusually quiet for most of the event, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded.

But then, while the moderator addressed Midoriya, Bakugou caught your attention.

His hands moved lazily, almost imperceptibly, as he signed:

After this, I’m gonna pin you to the wall in the dressing room and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk out of here straight.

Your eyes widened, and you immediately looked away, heart hammering in your chest.

“And what about you?” the moderator asked, pulling your attention back to the present.

“I—I’m sorry, could you repeat the question?” you stammered, cheeks flaming.

Beside you, Bakugou leaned back in his chair, smirking as the moderator repeated the question. His hands shifted again, just enough for you to catch his next message:

If you blush any harder, they’re gonna think you’re into this.

You resisted the urge to scream.

Because, for Bakugou, nothing was funnier than watching you squirm. And knowing you were the only one who could decode his filthy little secrets? That was just the icing on the cake.

…..

Over time, the signing became a secret game. A language only the two of you shared, even if it was insanely one sided. In battle, it was strategic—efficient, silent communication when words couldn’t cut through the noise. Off the field? It was something else entirely.

After a particularly grueling patrol, Bakugou flopped onto the couch beside you, tugging his hearing aids out and tossing them onto the table.

“Another shitty day,” he muttered.

You hummed in agreement, leaning against him.

Without thinking, he signed: You’re the only thing that doesn’t piss me off.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He smirked, shaking his head. “Nothin’, Cupcake. Just watch the TV..”

And for once, you didn’t press.

Because sometimes, silence said enough.

[sandraharissa]

I think one of the many things wrong with Jinx this season is how like, half of her personality was cut off and thrown out.

Like her reaction to grief. We see her suicidal after Silco’s death and she’ll be again very suicidal after Isha’s death. Makes sense. Don’t have notes on that part. However I have so much notes on her rage. In s1 we see Powder sometimes responding to bad situation by being shy and sad, but sometimes she reacts in a more adversarial way, like complaining they should try fighting Piltover or trying to stand up to Mylo. But we also get these moments like when she’s left behind and has an absolute meltdown and starts wrecking shit but more importantly her reaction to Silco. He says they’ll show them all and she throws the audience the most rage fueled look you’ve ever seen. When really pushed beyond her limits this is Powder’s emotional reaction to tragedy/being wronged. We see that all throughout acts II and III and we see it when she blows up the council after Silco dies. And that’s the problem cos that’s the part that’s missing from s2. They cut her personality in half and only kept one half. Anger as part of her personality and reaction to grief was discarded when writing her in s2. Even tho she goes through a lot of grieving in s2.

Another example is Isha. Jinx prioritizing family and just chilling? Wanting affectionate interactions with family? Having an easier relationship with a younger family member cos there aren’t any expectations or need to prove anything or gain anyone’s attention? No fear of abandonment/betrayal? She just has this kid who hero worships her and follows her around like a puppy so no stress? No notes. However I have a lot of notes about Jinx’s paranoia and how not normal and possessive and toxic she is about relationships. And I have notes on the generational trauma. Where did all that go? That’s not how ppl work. Living in a messed up society and Silco’s parenting won’t just evaporate like that cos Isha is just so overwhelmingly cute. It’s more likely that Jinx would corrupt the kid. (which you could argue on paper she does cos the kid in the end thought that suicide was dope but why did the narrative frame it as this beautiful thing lol)

And on the topic of fighting Piltover where did “we beat the enforcers with just the four of us imagine what the whole Lanes could do” go? Jinx definitely prioritized family more but she wasn’t neutral or indifferent on the Piltover matter. The enforcers wrong her/hurt her/threaten her family yet again, they kidnapped Isha, and she just acts panicked and sad, but also jokes and quips while on the mission. Where’s the rage and hatred and desire for revenge on the ppl who wronged her? Sometimes it’s just ppl around her being mean or lying or smth, anyone could be her enemy, like Sevika, Silco or Vi, but a lot of the time it’s Piltover, they killed her parents, they were her fathers’ enemies and drove them to hate each other, they chased them as kids and tried to arrest them, they kidnapped and abused Vi in prison all her adolescence, they would have killed Vi so she blew up the whole blockade, Council tried to turn Silco against her and now he’s dead so she bombs them, all her life she can see that the quality of their life is bad bcos of Piltover, she’s in Jayce’s apartment and immediately goes for the sandwich. Jinx doesn’t come off as a very politically/ideologically motivated character but what happened to all her personal beef with Piltover?

They also inexplicably just ceased to write her fucking up all the time. what about her y’know, being a jinx? In s1 even in acts II and III when she is proficient in fighting and bomb-making they still constantly show her being more of a burden and fucking up in other ways. While never explained (which was good) to me it came off as a symptom of trauma and being neurodivergent, like how ADHD kids can’t escape the allegations that they’re lazy, but on a meta level it did make it feel like she was supernaturally cursed. Part of what felt so profound and empowering about s1 finale and her embracing being jinx it that it was her embracing that she’s different (and ‘wrong’ in some ways) and can never live a happy life in the society she lives in and so she lashes out. Now she just chills and nothing ever doesn’t go her way (ig until Isha died but that wasn’t even directly her fault, Isha just acted on her own choice and agency). Suddenly her mental issues don’t exist or get in the way of her socializing and being a part of society. This bigoted, violent and unfair society.

Don’t even get me started on her mannerisms. Remember how she would bite her lip? I’m not sure if she does that even once in s2. “Sister, thought I missed her”??? let Jinx rhyme sometimes and in general say weird shit, not one-liners.

So the only way for the writers to have Jinx do nothing, heal up completely and just chill with a kid in her lair (and really everything else she does (or doesn’t do) this season) is to get rid of half of her personality, the traits that would dictate she take action and feel wrath and lash out/hurt her loved ones in the process.

All of her tragic traits from s1 that made her Jinx were just erased, not changed throughout the course of an arc, absent from the get go, so that they can have her say that Jinx is dead and have it make sense in the context of s2 cos from her very first appearance is s2 this Jinx was devoid of pretty much all of her jinx-y character traits from s1.

[mythalism]

oh wait do you not like the solavellan kiss in dav?? tell us more. unless you have in which case i need to dig into ur tags more

when i first saw it i honestly just thought it was kind of cringe LMFAO like that’s the only word i can use for my feeling in the moment tbh. i still think it feels a bit inappropriate for the moment. the angle of the scene itself doesn’t show Solas’s reciprocation very well, his facial expression is hidden by his collar, and you can’t see the way he is grabbing her hands back in the frame, so it felt kind of too much for her to be kissing him after he was literally going through the most insane emotional breakdown like 10,000 yrs in the making. i still maintain that a non-kiss would have been better. we have plenty of insane delicious solavellan kisses and this one doesn’t really add to the roster in my opinion. i think lavellan putting a hand to his cheek and wiping a tear away…. ohhhh my god. yeah that would probably have been my preference.

i think it feels less like the natural thing that would’ve happened in the moment and more like a performance that was being put on for the sake of the audience, us as the players. like solas did not need to be kissed in that moment. lavellan has already proven her devotion to him. a kiss does not do anything for him in what was a very vulnerable moment. they are literally about to go into the black city sex dungeon for eternity, they have plenty of time. the trespasser kiss by comparison makes perfect sense, solas is being extremely self indulgent when he kisses her because he thinks it’s going to be the last time. it also serves as a distraction as he takes the anchor. it makes sense. he thinks he’s never going to see her again. of course he steals one last kiss. but the veilguard kiss has literally no reason for it happening other than for the player to see them kiss in this game, and it really takes me out of it for that reason.

however seeing flycam footage, how it is genuinely reciprocated and the way solas looks at her like she hung the moon as she pulls away, and especially the framing of it as a kiss at the altar, because it is sooooooo wedding kiss in front of your in-laws (or your husbands ex gf’s fragmented soul and the annoying kid he used to babysit) coded. so i can accept its existence for the purposes of solavellan wedding being real.

[ramshacklefey]

Oh yes, and in general, these books are an excellent example of "if your characters act like the world is normal, the audience is probably just gonna roll with it."

There's a lot to be said about how/why to make that work, but it mostly boils down to, "Is this something the average reader of this genre is familiar with?" and/or "Is it similar enough to real-world concepts that they'll get the point?"

Governor Module... Hm don't know that one, but 1) it was hacked, so it must be a computer thing and 2) its purpose is pretty obvious from the name and what the character said it can do once it's hacked.

The feed? That's a new word, but okay, it says "entertainment feed" and you can watch shows and stuff with it. That sounds like a kind of internet thing, I know how internet thing works.

Streaming media at work? Everyone knows this! Oh, we can stream media directly in our brains here? Baller.

Giant sand worm? Everyone knows giant sand worm!

There's that feed thing again. Oh we can also send messages using it! Definitely an internet thing.

Laser guns? We fuck with laser guns. Laser guns in arms? Gotcha, character is either a robot or a cyborg, let's keep reading and find out which.

Hopper? New word but obviously a flying vehicle based on what they're doing with it.

Etc.

And really, we see this all over in fantasy and science fiction writing!

Star Trek didn't get around to explaining how warp drive works until TNG, but it's clear from the beginning that it's how spaceships go fast (and remember, this was a pretty new idea at the time).

Teleporter? Ok we've seen stuff where people disappear from one place and reappear somewhere else, now we have a device that does it.

Light saber? No idea how that works, but I know sword and I know light and it's glowing so ok cool.

If something is really new and really strange and really important to the plot, you can go back and give more explanation later. But you can get a loooong way by just. Showing characters using and interacting with things to explain what they are and how they work.

And if you really do need to explain something, a couple sentences will often do, and we can discover more about it as the story goes on.

Jedi?? No idea, but everyone knows knights. Yep and these are good knights, got it. Ohhh, there are evil knights too.

The force? Oh, it gives these Jedi people "powers," so like. Makes them superheroes or wizards. Some kinda magic field. That's neat!

Ah ok, this Darth Vader guy is one of the magic knights. Oh shit he just choked a dude out from across the room! So that's one of the "powers" the Jedi have.

(Martha Wells takes this to an extreme, but also by almost never explaining exactly how anything works, she leaves herself open to just go, "Oh yeah it does this too, but it can't do that" later on in the story.)

An important writing lesson I'm taking away from Murderbot is that you don't always have to ease your readers into the world and the characters and speculative concepts. Sometimes you can just start with the fun part where there's a sandworm trying to eat someone and that's fine too.

[nqueso-emergency]

Hey hi hello! The way the cast said goodbye to Callum after last night’s episode really showed the strike difference to how they treated Lou when he left. This plus the way the breakup felt so disconnected from the Bucktommy storyline makes me think that something happened behind the scenes. I don’t know if OS or/and the rest of the cast had an issue with Lou and that’s why he left so suddenly or was it the awful hate that Lou got. But their silence feels almost weird. Oliver never posted a bts photo of him. He barely mentioned Tommy (or God forbid Lou in interviews) Kenny and Ryan who previously have said nice things about Lou were also silent. I know you don’t know, but do you think the BT break up was a last min change due to bts drama. There’s also discourse on twitter about OS not liking to share the fame from Bucktommy with Lou. I honestly don’t know what to think - it all feels just plain weird. And also do you think that if there is btw drama the negative way that the GA reacted to the breakup can possibly bring back Tommy/Lou? Thanks! 🙏🏻

You asked a ton of questions but I'm only saying one thing.

If Lizzie’s interview didn't exist none of this would be an issue. No one would be comparing Callum leaving to Lou leaving. Because, without her interview, there's nothing else to suggest Lou is gone permanently.

Which means that the GA is banking on the idea that Buck and Tommy will find their way to one another again.

And I know people hate how they're referring to Tommy as a drug or addiction to Buck but we need to remember that this show is written for the middle-aged white woman who loves Angela Bassett and/or Peter Krause. So, by them using words like, "craving," "relapse," "jonesing".... they're telling the audience that Buck is struggling way more than they're even showing on screen and that even if he dates someone else, Buck will always be a recovering addict of one Tommy Kinard.

[sc0ttstre3t]

queen of disaster

ballerina!reader x glasses!spencer reid

summary: you are a principal dancer for the american ballet theatre. currently, you are playing juliet in the company's production of romeo & juliet. unbeknownst to you, a certain genius is sitting in the audience, in complete awe.

warnings: ballet inaccuracies? idk. barely proofread. just complete fluff.

After solving an especially difficult case, the team had been forced to allowed to take some time off. Spencer has mostly spent it reading in the confines of his apartment, but has finally decided to take a trip. New York, somewhere he's only been for cases, wouldn't usually seem appealing, but after he found out that a production of Romeo & Juliet was currently showing at one of the best ballet companies in the world, he booked a ticket.

The show has been going well, quick paced and entertaining, with strong dancers bounding across the stage every second. Spencer's eyes are moving back and forth, trying to take in every movement.

And then it all slows down.

You appear on stage, dressed in a white and gold dress, dancing across the stage. Your arms and legs strong, yet delicate and youthful, you are the perfect Juliet. For the first time in forever, Spencer's mind is blank. He has never felt this way before. He's been captured by you, and your movements, and the emotion on your face. As a man of reason, Spencer knows love at first sight isn't real. What he is experiencing is simply infatuation, a projection he placed upon you as soon as he saw you. But that can't be right. This, all of this is real. You're real, and in front of him, and Spencer couldn't be more confused.

After the show, Spencer finds his way to the lobby with the rest of the attendees, brain still hazy about what has just happened to him. It doesn't make sense. He only saw you for a few hours, playing someone entirely different than who you really were. He doesn't know your name, or who you really are as a person. How could he…

Oh.

There you are again.

Standing with other dancers, giggling and talking. Still in your costume, but much more relaxed. Just as angelic as you were on stage, if not more. Everything stills once again, you the only focus of his attention.

Spencer walks to you, his feet moving without his own realization. Wading through the crowd, before you finally end up face to face.

You turn to him, eyebrows furrowed for a moment, before you really see him.

Gosh.

You hesitate, before putting on your best smile when he doesn't speak. "Hi."

That seems to wake him up. "Oh, hi. Sorry to bother you, I'm Dr. Spencer…" He trails off. Seeing you close up seems to rattle him. He blinks. "Not doctor, you don't have to…just Spencer."

"Nice to meet you, Spencer." You fail to hide the amusement in your words. You take a second to observe him. He's undoubtedly gorgeous. Golden brown eyes, and perfectly parted hair, his round glasses perched on his nose. His outfit is unusual for his age, a sweater vest and dark brown dress pants, complete with a pair of purple converse. A weird mix of grandpa-esque and youthful. A perfect one. Suddenly, you're hyper aware of your slightly melted makeup and the sweat on your back. You look down at his fiddling fingers, tapping back and forth as if to level his nerves somehow. You apprehensively bring out a hand, quietly introducing yourself as you do.

Spencer intakes a tiny breath. "Oh, sorry, I don't really shake hands, it's um, it's a germ thing." He readjusts his glasses as he speaks, and you grin despite yourself, you can't help but find his awkward nervousness endearing.

"Oh, sorry. That's alright." Your voice breathy and light. You nod along with your words to reassure him.

He looks down for a second, attempting to hide the red creeping up his cheeks. "No need to be sorry, I just…I wanted to say that you were amazing up there. I mean, you definitely already know that considering that only a very small percentage of ballet dancers become professional, let alone at a prestigious company like the American Ballet Theatre, and you play Juliet, the female lead role, but um, i just-"

"Spencer." You cut him off, and he finally brings his eyes back to your lingering gaze.

"Yeah?" He looks completely out of place, nerves jumbled and chest heaving. Him being nervous almost calms you down--it's confirmation that you both feel the same way.

You softly smile up at him. "It's okay. Thank you for saying that, it um, it means a lot."

"Yeah, yeah, of course. I mean it, you were…brilliant." He returns your smile. Thinks to himself that you must be the sun.

Now it's your turn to blush. You bite your inner cheek, resisting a bigger smile. For a second, you both just look at each other. Eyes wide, cheeks pink. Silent, but not uncomfortable.

"Listen, I um, I should go get changed." You speak quietly, as if saying one thing will wake you up from this fairytale of a dream.

"Oh." He visibly deflates. "It was…it was really nice to meet you."

"No! I mean, I can talk to you after, if you don't have anything else to do, I shouldn't assume…"

Spencer's grin reappears. "No, I don't have anything planned." He adjusts his glasses again, excitement rising with your words.

You nod, heart fluttering as you speak. "I'll meet you back out here?"

"Yeah, yeah I'll wait." He awkwardly waves as you walk away.

You tentatively look back, making sure he's still there, only to see that dopey grin still plastered on his face.

[everytimewetouch-dot-mp3]

this is the serial killer direction i WANTED that actors au nonsense to go. all that shit is happening too, but this was the part that sparked that whole idea.

this post is loooong

warning binghe is an obsessive yandere freak 🥰 bingyuan are freak4freak tho so like…. it's fine

dead dove do not eat; he is a serial killer and he's kinda horny about it lmao

luo binghe is maybe shen yuan’s biggest fan. when he was fourteen, he saw sy as the male lead in a classical romantic opera and it inspired him to act. he’s seen all of shen yuan’s opening nights and most of his closings, and he was coached by shen yuan’s older brother (until shen jiu dropped him as a client…there was something Not Right about that boy and sj didn’t want him close). he’s got a bit of a shrine to shen yuan in his basement, filled with photos and newspaper clippings a few dried flowers—whenever he was given flowers on stage, shen yuan always tossed one back to the audience. binghe has three. he has every part of shen yuan he can get his hands on, but it's not enough.

when he and sy start working on sqh's game, it's like heaven and hell all at once. sy is even more beautiful up close, even kinder and funnier and smarter than he shows himself to be in the few interviews he's deigned to give. every moment lbh spends with him is ecstasy. every moment he spends apart from him is suffering unlike any he's ever experienced. every day he yearns to touch, to taste, to take shen yuan. to have him and keep him and treasure him the way no one else ever could. no one loves him like luo binghe loves him.

this video game they're working on—it's got a lot of endings. most of the game is the player on their own, but there's one path that gets the shitty teacher character as a companion. and further down that path…well, there are a lot of romance options in a game as big as this.

things start out fine; lbh and sy have great chemistry, it turns out. even when sy has to play the cruel teacher, it's got this undercurrent of something that could easily open the door for the romance arc later on. lbh knew they'd have great chemistry. he and sy are destined to be together; of course they'd work well on screen. they hang out between takes, eat their meals together, carpool when they can. it's amazing.

it's not enough. binghe burns with the need to possess his beloved, and every day he's denied what he rightfully deserves, that fire burns hotter. one night, he goes out to try to find a hookup, just to let off some steam. it's supposed to be a hookup, it really is. he finds someone who looks similar enough to sy from the back that he can almost pretend it's him. but his voice is all wrong, and his attitude is too brazen, and it pisses binghe off so bad that he chokes the guy just so he'll shut up.

it's just—he doesn't stop choking him until he finishes a few minutes later, and by that point, the guy is…well. mbj helps lbh scrub the body and cover his tracks, and the corpse is found a few days later with no real leads.

it happens again a few weeks later. lbh can't have shen yuan, but so many pale imitations throw themselves at him. and every time, he takes them to bed and he swears he won't get angry this time. it's not sy; he knows it isn't sy. there's no need to be angry with them for pretending to be sy when they're not.

he gets angry anyway. he can't help it. he accepts these men's advances, he takes him to bed, he kills them and kills them and kills them. eventually, news comes to light. the date-night killer, a deeply uninspired name born only from the fact that their last known locations were all night clubs. they're all around the same height, all have short brown hair and glasses, all similar builds.

one night binghe asks shen yuan if he wants to go get drinks. he knows a nice quiet lounge, not too crowded since it's so exclusive. shen yuan declines. jokes that he'd better not—the date night killer likes guys with short brown hair; maybe they'd go after him next.

the next body that turns up is…different. still strangled to death, but it seems like the killer (a copycat most likely, the cops say) felt regret afterward. on the victim's back, over and over again, is carved "i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry…"

his a-yuan is afraid of him. luo binghe hates himself, and he hates all these people who put themselves in his path, who get themselves killed by daring to try to replace a-yuan in his heart. it's their fault a-yuan is afraid. binghe is the only one who can keep him safe. he knows he is.

binghe keeps it together until they're approaching the end of shen yuan's time in the studio. the arc is almost finished, and shen yuan mentions that in a month he'll be leaving for his next show's rehearsals. some opera, binghe's pretty sure; his hearing sort of cut out when his beloved said he was leaving. the news is a knife to the heart. his a-yuan can't leave. a-yuan belongs with him, no one can take him away. binghe needs a-yuan, and a-yuan needs binghe.

that night, luo binghe and shen yuan vanish without a trace. binghe has a house. it's under a false identity, and it's way out in the mountains. there, he can keep his a-yuan safe and comfortable. there, he can work to earn his a-yuan's affection. there, no one can take his a-yuan away.

he explains to a-yuan that they're home now, that they are together as they belong, that luo binghe will be the best husband to his precious a-yuan. and sy is so beautiful, so clever, of course he figures out that luo binghe is the date night killer. it's alright though, binghe promises, because he only killed those people for daring to imitate his beloved. now that he and his husband are finally together, binghe's got no reason to kill anyone else. they'll be happy together now that there's no one else in the way.

when shen yuan smiles, it's like the sun breaking through the clouds. he shifts, asks binghe to untie his arms. of course, binghe obeys. anything for his husband. he's not a fool; he knows shen yuan might try to fight and escape as a test of binghe's ability to protect him, and binghe's ready. but instead, shen yuan reaches out and stokes binghe's hair, his cheek. 'binghe went so far for me,' he murmurs, a hypnotic gleam in his eye that luo binghe has never seen. 'i hoped that night�� i thought for sure you'd take me when i turned you down for drinks, but you tried so hard to be respectful, didn't you? well. maybe someday binghe will let me see him work? i quite liked the one you carved for me, but i really didn't need an apology. you can try again, can't you? will you make something pretty for me?'

the next corpse is rather beautifully arranged. the wounds carved into the body are artistic, elegant flowing lines and flowers carved into the skin. in the middle of its back, the double happiness character is drawn. shen yuan thinks it’s a lovely wedding present.

[isagrimorie]

Honestly, of all the things that was deleted, I wish THIS was the one they kept.

I know Jac Schaeffer was afraid that it would come off as self congratulatory and erred in the same on the side of caution.

But I felt it needed to be in text that the reason why the Road could tailor the trials to the coven and each witch was because Billy was unconsciously reading their minds.

And, why Agatha’s trial was so punitive. Billy couldn’t read Agatha’s (and Rio’s) mind,and read everyone else’s minds including the minds of the Salem Seven.

“Punish Agatha.”

I think Agatha figured out why her trial was also dogshit to her because she had her mental shields way up. But, we the audience, needed that clarity.

To Jac’s credit she did say looking back there were a lot of things she would change if she could do if she can do things again.

Honestly, as a sophomore Showrunner she actually did a lot of things really well.

Jac Schaeffer on Deleted Lines on Episode 9: Specifically Agatha clarifying that Billy read the minds of the rest of the coven, and that’s how the Road fit the trial to each witch.

They also had to delete Kathryn Hahn’s hilarious line delivery of “subconscious” which Jac loved. (It will be part of the deleted scene.)

Agatha also commented how the trials were so exhausting (to her) because all of them has to do with personal growth.

(Agatha is not down for personal growth. She will force others to growth, not for her though!)

——

I think this also explains why episode 5 was so fucked for Agatha. Billy can’t read Agatha’s mind. He can’t read Rio’s mind either.

The trial became Agatha’s trial after Lilia and Jen talked about Agatha killing her original coven.

Billy’s subconscious is opinionated (Jac mentions this on the interview) so, in his young mind, he would think Agatha needs to be punished. The Salem Seven’s very loud thoughts about retribution against Agatha would also contribute to the Trial.

[starriegalaxy]

For your cute prompts, imagine this: Sun, in all of his petty glory, is very offended with Y/N leaving the Daycare early recently. He decides to pull a prank by locking the door so Y/N cannot leave, and sassily hangs the key on his wrist ribbons. The only way for Y/N to "earn" their escape is by playing with him and having a tea party with his plushies.

Hi again Amary! Sorry this took so long ack - finally got to finish it this morning so pls enjoy 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Title : Leaving So Soon? 

Tags : Fluff, romance, romantic-leaning, female reader, set in Fear Factor AU, Sun-centric

Rated : Teen and Up Audiences 

Synopsis : Sun was a little salty that you were leaving early so he devised a little plan to make you stay just a tad longer …

Tagging @kaprisvn @hexcii @sun-e-chips @nighternex & y'all Sun lovers 🫵🏻

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

“Flower.”, you said, patience wearing thin in your tone. 

Sun places the door bar in place and locks the gates with a key he procured from somewhere. You had been busy cleaning up when you spotted Sunny blocking your one exit. You had an assignment due in a couple of days and you really wanted to get a headstart… You supposed that telling him that caused him to do this. 

Sunny turns around and gingerly places the keys on his wrist somehow, with a clink near his bells. “Sorry. Leaving so soon? I'm afraid you're going to have to earn your freedom tonight, Doll.”, he turns around, overly smug with his tone as he walks back towards you. With a crease in your brow and your arms carefully folded over your chest, you regard him with an urge to smack his faceplate. 

You need your hand though so you quickly shake off the feeling. He takes a seat out from the kiddy tables and gestures to it while saying, “Take a seat, precious. You're going to need it.” You take a quick inhale, exhale and trudge over to the chair. Sitting down in it hastily, he calmly takes his own chair and sets the teacups properly, one each for the participants, even including the Glamrock plushies. You refuse to think it's cute. Huffing again as you reach for the cup he offered you, fingers brushing briefly, you bring it to your lips in a mock sip. 

“Well then, you may start.”, he gestures with his hand in a gentle sway towards you. An excruciatingly long sigh leaves your lips when you finish sipping. “How was your day, Mr Sunny?” His eyes upturn and his rays spin once. “Quite pleasant actually. I just got started with trying something new-”, he went on a tangent where there was a new method that could calm a child from crying quicker. Your eyebrows scrunch fondly over how his body language was less tense compared to before. 

Most likely, he was throwing a fit over how little his time with you was. Admittedly being late for tonight's date, you apparently had no business not making up for it. Oh but you couldn't help but worry about your assignment even when he managed to rope you into this ridiculous impromptu tea party etiquette lesson. Your fingers thrummed across the table in distress and your legs shook anxiously. Sun’s rambling ceases and he goes quiet. Shoot. You stopped listening like 10 minutes ago. 

“Do you really have to go?”, his tone goes solemn. Your lips crease in a guilty frown. He can't use that tone every time you have to go do something… Lifting up from your chair, you walk over to him, gingerly plucking the teacup from his hand and batted away at his arms so you could sit on his lap. “Baby, I know I was late tonight. I just - This assignment is really important. I'll make it up to you, I promise.”, you caress his face gently. He pulls you in for a hug and you return it fully.

Man, it still threw you off whenever he acted like this. Clingier and more honest with his feelings. It's not bad, just flustered you is all. You pull away slightly to say, “There's a good boy. Thank you for understanding.”, and kiss his cheek appreciatively. “...a few more kisses, please?”, he utters softly. Again, that tone. “And you say I'm the temptress most of the time.”, you joke fondly, putting your forehead against his. “You are. I just… please.”, his hands settle on your waist comfortably, warmth seeping into his hands. 

Unfortunately, you were bad at resisting these boys' requests. “...Of course, c’mere.”, you bring his faceplate closer and he melts into the kisses instantly. 

Seems like that homework will be delayed one way or another, huh? But you're gonna ace it in time anyways so have faith and kiss that robot in the meantime, little security guard. 

The End. 

[igglemouse]

Monday feels like the perfect day to make pancakes, banana pancakes, to be more specific! Then again, isn't every day perfect for pancakes? There's something about them, maybe it's the scent of them that fills the kitchen with a warmth only associated with morning, maybe its how soft they are and how, coupled with syrup, they just melt and fit perfectly on your tongue and aaaahhh...This new house with its spacious kitchen has brought a spark back into my cooking!

As usual, Pascal makes it over to the table for breakfast, a tradition at this point, but today there is something different. It's his clothing, he's all dressed up, buttoned up, crisp pants, no sweat. Did he miss his morning workout? Is he sick? Injured? I won't press, maybe he's finally realized he pushes himself too hard, no, I have something else on my mind.

"I was thinking about our last convo," I start hesitantly, ignoring the temptation of my pancakes for a moment. "It might be a sooner rather than later kind of thing." I'm surprised to say it because the thought of having another baby feels overwhelming. I mean, my Watcher, it's a lot to go though. Does it get better the second time? Am I really ready to submit my body through that again?

"Oh, Frida," he says just before taking another bite of his pancake. "I see that look in your eyes," he teases.

"What?!"

"That look!" he teases again, a grin growing on his face. "All you have to do is ask!" Oh, that's what he means. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks already.

"Pascal, I'm serious!" I shoot back because I am! This is a serious subject! "I just mean...if Flora is to have a little brother or sister, shouldn't they be close in age?" That's better for them, right? Allows them to bond a little better, I would think but I think by now Pascal is thinking more about the practice of making babies than the end result of it.

"Mmmhmm, they should..." See?

"Look! Ugh, nevermind!" I huff, giving up and waving away the now corrupted conversation we were having. "Do you even like your pancakes? You've barely touched them," I add, trying my best to steer it away from him and his morning wood.

"Oh, yeah," ugh, that grin is back on his face, I can't help but giggle. "No condoms moving forward then, right?"

"Pascal!" I blurt out with my fork clanking against the plate.

Alright alright, I wouldn't admit it at the table but I'll admit it to you now. I'd like another. Maybe just one more! My little Flora can't be an only child, she seems to enjoy attention a little too much but isn't that just all babies? They need so much love! Still, two feels right.

But for now, the rain is going to keep me inside which gives me a perfect chance at just sitting down and working on my socials. This is what I do now. Promote my social media, push my videos, and just try to grow my audience little by little. My first video does alright, nothing amazing or viral but a solid debut. It gives me enough hope to continue and to maybe think that there might be a future here for me with this. At least I won't have to worry about some old man trying to ruin my business.

And yes, I do spend some time working out because, I can't help but worry about my weight. I know I shouldn't, it's completely normal to add weight after creating a complete human being, but the thoughts creep into my head anyway. I just worry about Pascal out there playing a road game in some faraway city and at some night club before a pair of boobs gets put into his face and...yeah, let's end that thought right there. I want to look my best, not just for him, but for me too!

But maybe I've pushed myself too hard today because now I've broken out in a rash! Red little splotches all over my arms and legs and just everywhere! Not a good look. I don't imagine this is attractive but thankfully there's medicine for it.

By the way, I called Anthony. Or at least I tried. I'm not sure why but I felt like he should at least know. He'll never meet her, that I'm sure of, but I don't know, I feel like my grandparents, my mama, you know, people I've never known, would tell me that I should. It's fair for him to know. Just to know. It feels like if I don't tell him it'll be something I'll feel slightly guilty about for the rest of my life. If what Candela said is true, he saved my life, whether he meant to or not, so he should know that I'm doing well.

But the joke was on me, he wasn't available. A guard or someone, don't know, answers instead and asked if I wanted to pass along a message and in that moment I froze. I told him never mind and he told me times in which Anthony had phone privileges if I wanted to call back. I don't think I will now. The moment has passed. Maybe its just fate that he'll know.

Back to happier things, like making dinner for my new familia or at least trying to. Pascal made it a little harder because he walks right into my kitchen in nothing but his swim trunks which is incredibly distracting. I pause mid chop just to stare, wondering what he was up to and then figuring this is probably the continuation of our conversation from this morning. He's trying to tempt me! I can't help but chuckle because its both cute and endearing.

"Mi querido, what are you wearing?" I challenge, rising an eyebrow as he turns to face me which only makes it worse because I've always been a fan of his body and suddenly I'm reminded why I did fall for him. His goofy charm and his smile!

"My swimwear!" he announces with pride. "We do have a little pool and I wanted to check it out!"

"Must you walk around in it?"

"I think you should walk around in yours a little more!" He fires back with the cheesiest wink I've ever seen in my life, it brings a reluctant smile to my own face.

"I-I don't know! I'm still a little hefty, I might not even fit my old stuff. Maybe a one piece or something like-"

"I'd love you all in one piece!"

Ah well...well, we will eat dinner first and maybe we'll see about that later.

But unfortunately, after our dinner, little Flora had her own demands which naturally comes before my own desires. So, instead of spending some intimate time with Pascal I was called to feed her and change her diaper and just play with her and let her know that she is loved! Just the things a mama must do!

But while Frida was attending to the needs of little Florencia, Pascal was attending to his. Every day his Social Bunny account would light up with interest, messages from a variety of different women, all thirsty for his attention. They knew he wasn't single and knew he was a father, but for some, that made him all the more enticing.

Usually, Pascal ignored them, thinking of them more as annoyances and distractions, but one in particular stood out to him. Sofia Prats, a model and aspiring actress located in Del Sol Valley. She was a striking beauty with dark hair that seemed to contrast perfectly with pearlescent skin and a full smile that sat perfectly before observant eyes. She carried herself with a bold kind of confidence, a woman who was used to getting her way. She had sent him a few messages, wondering if they could meet. Pascal didn't answer, not yet at least, but he did spend some time scrolling through her Simstagram feed and enjoying her pictures...

Frida Varela - Next Episode 9.3

[phantomrose96]

Aromantically rotating this quote from Jon "The Silt Verses" Ware from the Season 2 Q&A (bold emphasis mine)

Question: I love what Paige and Hayward have going on. How would you describe their dynamic? ​ JON: I saw someone online talk about the, “the paladin and the prophet.” Which I think is a really nice way of looking at it! Whereas I saw them as two people who…both of them have come to the end of the road in their old lives. [...] I think maybe there’s also an implicit question there about whether there’s something romantic going on – maybe I’m reading into it, but that is something that’s on my mind a lot, so I’d love to talk about it more. ​ Because shipping is fantastic and it’s wonderful and it’s cool, but as a writer who’s way too online in a parasocial world, I’m really wary of how I respond to it and how I process it. ​ I personally, I don’t like writing fictional characters where the most important moment in their narrative arcs is when they get together with the person they were always meant to get together with. Generally, it’s just a bugbear of mine in fiction and I’m not sure I agree with the underlying message. ​ But I think if any writer who’s way too online sees, hey, people are getting excited about these two characters hooking up and falling in love and they keep coming back to this idea of them hooking up and falling in love, there’s a real rodent voice in the back of your head whispers, "give the people what they want. Get those likes, get that fanart." ​ Which is the wrong response! Because we don’t understand that maybe people are just having fun exploring these characters or their own interpretations of these characters, we think they must be anticipating a pay-off from us. ​ And again, I think it can send you in the wrong direction, one that ends up being essentially flattening – we don’t think, "if these characters hook up, OK, what new opportunities does that give us to explore them, to understand them in greater depth?" Instead we think we need to perform a climactic moment of love and comfort and happiness to get the audience’s approval. Which can be very much to the detriment of the complexity of the characters, but also, afterwards, where do you go with it? ​ And after we released maybe one episode of The Silt Verses, I saw a couple of folks online going ‘oh, god, I hope this isn’t going to end with Carpenter and Faulkner hooking up,’. And you go, "oh my god, I hadn’t considered that as a possibility for a second, that’s not who they are and that’s not what the relationship is here" - but of course all of us are primed for it, that enemies-to-lovers thread that is so common. ​ [...] ​ So it felt like I could introduce a connection there [with Paige and Hayward] and we could see a different way that they begin to be around each other that hopefully feels like it’s adding new dimensions to both of the characters without me looking over my shoulder going, “Am I in danger of turning this into something a bit stock by turning it into quite a straightforward romantic situation?”

[thesaart]

The concept of a Fool

(this is basically a fanfiction so I have fun with writing it. I didn't really have a full plan when I started to write this but it's about Sampo so I wrote a lot anyways)

Going through this world I realized one thing and that is, that no matter what, who I am is of no importance to the story. What is important is to know what you want, regardless if you know the ending of the story or not. If you know what you want you can steer the story into that direction. You don't need to be the protagonist, if anything it's better if you're not. You can ask yourself questions of my origin and please tell me those questions. I will answer them. Because everyone knows, someone who says they are a bad liar can spin the most magnificent of tales. What planet did you come from? Do you have a family? Any siblings? Did they die? Did you kill them? Are you human or a worm? A corpse or a puppet? I came from a pebble. My father was a needle, my mother was a leaf and my sister was a tax machine. The leaf was crushed by the tax machine and the needle broke after avenging the leaf and I was the one who smashed the tax machine. I neither leave footprints nor grooves in mud. I can take your money and I can dig a hole. So if someone gave me a mouth and taught me how to speak, tell me what would be the difference? I can walk, I can dance, I breathe and blink but if you take my hand you yourself would freeze.

When I was younger I listened to storytellers, well that wasn't their job but regardless they were good at telling them. Wonderful little tales based on what those people themself went through. To be honest whenever I listened to them I never believed a word they said. However then I realized it was never about if they happened like this or not. Because truly who cares? What does it change if the people lied or not, if those stories truly happened the way they described? I knew that with all those workers, I would take their name, listen to their tales and then they would leave and I would never see them again. So after that realization, I remembered their tales and I started to build myself with these stories as a starting point. 

I made the clothes I'm wearing. Build tools based on blueprints I drew myself. I created weapons and gave them to the people that needed them. I made them specifically based on the people I would give them to. All who used my creations praised my talent as a craftsman.

There were articles written by me. They always told the truth, exposed the evil and praised the good. My word was law and could shift opinions as quickly as new trends could be created. Politicians paid me millions to praise them in my articles. And all believed my words. For I was known as the people's most trusted journalist. A new theater play started just a few weeks ago and have you heard, I'm the main attraction. The stage lights follow every step I take, the music dancing to my whims. 

The audience, so focused on my every word. Applauding every note I sing. Maybe you're lucky and you can catch one of my performances.

One day I found a letter and a package in front of my door. The package had only one thing inside of it, a uniform. The letter spoke of a war and that I don't have a choice but to join it. I walked into the camp, scared but determined to defend my home land. I was handed a weapon, a gun, that was clearly used. Who knows who had used it before. I entered the battlefield, screams were the first thing I heard. 

I fought and killed, defended myself from the enemies. I saw comrades die. I held them, hugging them till I could not feel the beating of their hearts anymore. I sat behind the walls of broken buildings hoping that I would come out alive.  

In all my time I had seen so much. I saw how people were exploited and their worries and needs stayed forever ignored. The governments whose only purpose it was to stand with its people, spitting on the ones who they were supposed to protect and aid. I hated them so much, I hated the hypocrisy behind their actions. I joint group after group to tear it all to the ground. I helped liberate nations and become an enemy of the ones who tried to stop me. I fought for freedom.   

I grew up as an orphan with no coin to my name, no one ever gave me aid. They saw a sad little boy destined to starve on the streets. The only thing that was thrown my way were looks of pity. so I hid and observed. I saw what the ones around me were doing to earn money. The shop owners lied to every customer, inflating the prices of their goods. Street performers would make the audience gamble away all they had. Other children would beg and use the looks of pity to their advantage. I observed and learnt. I took from people what was precious to them and changed the appearance of what I stole. Then I went to the ones it once belonged to and sold it back to them. I build a name of a salesman who knew exactly what others wanted. A trusted man with quality goods and the price, always fair. It wasn't my fault if the goods quickly broke or if the material never fully matched all the way through.    

Once I organized a heist, determined to clean out every last bit of valuables that place had. First it was an attempt to right the wrongs of others. I stole, yes, but only so I could share it with the ones that actually needed the money. I told myself that for a few times but after the fifth heist I struggled to continue to tell myself that. The hostages in front of me, cowering, fear radiating in their eyes, knowing as well as I did, that all that was a lie. I didn't care about the civilians or the ones who were forgotten by society. I just liked the thrill. I never wanted the laws to change. If anything, I wanted more of them so I could break them over and over again.  Then one day I realized, I was older now. Those stories, entering to tell others and myself. Now both, wrong, just tales, stories of workers I listened to as a child and also true, having earned experiences, I found myself in all those roles. I fought in wars, killed others, and experienced starvation. I built the shell of bombs and brewed poisons to fill them. I forged the blades I use to hunt and defend myself with. I wrote articles to influence the public. Played with how easy it was to point fingers and declare something to be good or bad. I infiltrated organizations and lied to friends and the ones who trusted me. Selling the good will of others and betraying them without looking back. And between all of this I was invited to perform, to be an actor. However the stage I was destined for had no adoring audience, just a crowd that knew, as well as I did, that we were laughing into the abyss. We knew how futile all this was but we still laughed because it just was so funny. I never thought about a clear line that I wouldn't cross. Stealing was fine, ruining people's lives was alright, destroying and tearing apart order and seeing places burn, was just part of who I was. But then I found that line and stopped for just a moment. It didn't change my world view, didn't make me a better person, just gave me a new perspective. So I gave my mask to a person I knew would never give it back to me for free. Only if I would do something for her, if I would dance to her whims. So if I ever decided to go back I could be sure that it was no quick decision based on longing or boredom. After I was free of the mask, of the tavern and the laughter, I traveled. It was the same as with the fools. Truly it felt like nothing had changed. I made friends that I quickly betrayed and I joined different factions just to see how those behaved. I found myself in different taverns. The only change was just the color of the curtains.

This next bit is hazy even for me. I went to a planet I shouldn't even have known of. But I went anyway, typing in unknown and forgotten coordinates. Maybe one of the workers told me a tale about that planet or maybe someone told it to another, while a little orphan boy was listening. Regardless, when I left my ship and was greeted with the cold winds of a frozen planet, it felt like I was entering an ancient theater.

Those winds let me deeper into those ancient halls. No walls, just ice and snow. Mountains covered in a thick layer of snow, reflecting the few rays of sunshine that were able to escape the heavy blanket of clouds. Like the spotlights above a stage.  After walking in the freezing cold for what felt like an eternity, with the noises of my heavy breathing as my only companion, I found myself on a cliff looking down towards a city. 

Sneaking into the city was a lot easier than I thought. It felt like I was walking next to invisible footsteps, leading or suggesting a way. I observed the townspeople and listened to them. Finding out about the name of the little city and its history. Well as much history as I could glean from peoples discussions and daily gossip. One thing that was clear to me was that those people were dying. They knew their time was running out but they just went on with their lives because there was nothing else they could do. 

From my perspective, I  just, I don't know exactly how I felt. If anything, I think I felt disappointed. When I entered this theater's halls I thought it was a story about a place of tragedy but determination. Believing that they will come out alive that everything will be fine. All the factions I went to had at least a version of that determination but especially Qliphoths people tended to have that blind faith. 

I'm not sure why, I could have left, but I didn't. This time I stayed and I stayed for a lot longer than I thought. I got to know the people of the overworld and played with their perception of me. They thought I came from the Underworld, an intriguing sounding place I was sure to visit as well. I quickly became a merchant and for some more direct and may I say ruder citizens, a scammer. Finding out what those people needed or craved was exhilarating. I played with what they wanted and seeing what they would do for just a simple distraction was fascinating. Being chased by the silver main guards was also just fun. I found myself excited by just the anticipation of what will come next? What do those people want? Where will I run and hide to today? But even though the Overworld was fun, the Underworld gave me a feeling I struggled to describe to myself for many years. The Underworld was a warm place, its people so busy running around, no time to lose. Working, providing both places with energy, mining all day. Kids running around playing, yelling at each other and laughing. The sounds of their voices and the noises of picks hitting rock and mining cards grinding on iron tracks, created a melody that was so vivid and clear to my ears, that I could almost dance to it. I let myself be carried by this atmosphere, following in the footsteps of the busy workers, offering my help and just being. I never had this much fun. 

Then one day the atmosphere shifted. The gates and entry between the two places were cut off, the Silvermane Guards stationed in the Underworld were ordered to get back above ground, leaving the people alone. Priority will change opinions and perspectives but still for me and a lot of other Underworlders it felt like the Overworld decided we weren't worth their protection. With no explanation given they left them all to rot. Hoverwever surviving was a thing I was always good at and like me the Underwolders were similarly gifted in that regard. So they went back to work, now they needed to provide energy only for themselves so there was at least that. Still the places exchanged more than just energy. The underworld powered machines, providing energy for cars, for heaters, for gears to keep both cities turning. However the Overworld aided the people with food and medicine. So like at the beginning, I knew the people of the city were going to die but the way how, was now a lot clearer, a lot more vivid and I was lost. I didn't know what to do. Like everyone else in the Underworld I was stuck. I searched for ways to reach the Overworld to do something. But every time I thought I found a path, Svarog, an ancient robot that, at least judging with how stubborn the tin box was felt more human to me than robot, would find those paths as quickly as I did and destroy them. I was at my wits end, I didn't know what to do. I never was at my wits end, I always had a plan or a concept or just a spark of inspiration but at that moment my head was empty. Now, what to do when you don't know what the next step should be? I did the only thing I could think of. 

I took a walk. 

I kept walking blindly into any direction. The warmth around me was still there. The people were still so busy but now that warmth was fueled with something else, an undertone to that captivating melody. If it was frustration or anger or hurt I could never figure out but now the atmosphere felt like a steam engine with broken glass and dented metal.

Cracked but still moving.  

Regardless of what will happen next, they will keep moving and so I will keep walking, for now, following in their steps, moving to their rhythm. I vouched that I would help them. This planet's tragedy and its people's situation and the underworld's whole existence sang to me in a way I both loved and hated. How dare they, how dare those people resonate with him? What does he have to do with they're shitty situation? Why should he even care and why doesn't he care at all about those questions right now? Does this really matter? The why or questions of how a planet, a city, people can be this unlucky. Finding a reason won't fix their situation and I don't know if answers to those questions would explain why I cared so much about those people. Especially for the people of the Underworld.    

While my thoughts were powering my steps I found the ground underneath my feet change. The rock and gravel dirtying my shoes changed slowly to a soft but still slightly dirtied white. The noise of my feet sinking into the thick layer of snow and the cold winds whipping around me was the next thing that greeted me.  

I smiled and spoke out loud, 

“Found it.”

The moment I found this little path I made sure no one else knew of it and somehow they didn't, not even Svarog knew of its existence. The path wasn't a simple straight line either. That would have been too easy. It was more like a winding array of lines all interlinking, melting together. Traversing through it felt like I was a wild gust of wind ripping through the delegate little lines, dancing through its halls with steps somehow only I knew. 

This path was all I needed because now I could be a link between the two cities. 

The Overworld needed heaters? Or oh no, their fuel source is running out. Who could help them? I made my money, built my reputation and made the Silvermane Guards fairly angry at me. 

A scammer who somehow seems like he can teleport, so fast and undetectable, footprints lost in snow. Come on run and try to catch me. This will keep you warm, the unpredictability and distraction of a little chaos, who could deny its effectiveness?

The things I stole? the materials I traded for? The food I could buy? Why, all of it was too much for me alone. So I gave it to the Underworld but not through my hands. My face would not greet those hungry and determined eyes. They wouldn't take it from me. They would never take it from someone who can't be trusted.

I understood the concept of trust better than most others I met, so I knew how both, fragile and also how utterly useless it was to me in this situation. The people didn't need to trust me. They needed to know me. I needed to play with their expectations so I needed to create a character that could act in ways so predictable that I could steer people into situations and places that would help me. To be able to ensure their survival for just another day. Wildfire was perfect for what I wanted to do. Like with the Silvermane Guards above ground, Wildfire was all about justice and helping the people however they could and similar to the Silvermanes, Wildfire also had a leader. However their leader was a lot easier to talk to and far less complicated in her ways of thinking as the leader of the Silvermanes. 

Natasha was a truly kind person and to my annoyance a pretty smart and observant person too.  One of the first times I met her I just happened to have some rations with me so when I gave them to her. Simply because a doctor would know far better how to handle those things then me and that I could give her more for a bit of info on wildfire and its members. She smiled at me, looked me in the eyes and took the supplies with her, with only a “See you later” as her answer. 

I knew from her look, those eyes that read you like a book, that I need to be careful around her. I don't think she ever fully figured me out, however, she, from all the people I interacted with on that planet, came the closest to seeing through me and I would lie if I would say that that thought didn't worry me. I met other members of Wildfire and most of them reminded me of people I’ve met on my travels. A strong and straightforward but oh so rude and brash warrior, a shining light of hope and protection keeping the will and spirits of all that are around him up and running. An old general molded by fights and bureaucracy and a child so full of fire and life, making her run in chaotic and huge lines, brightening the streets wherever she goes. I aided them and the rest of Wildfire with what they needed, to help the Underworld to survive as long as they could.   

The longer I stayed the more I didn't want to leave. I knew I couldn't leave at that time anyway but I knew that there would come a point where I couldn't deny that my time here would run out. So I just kept up with what I was doing anyway. The merchant and scammer become more well known. The helping hand of Wildfire was both an annoyance to the group but also, you could sometimes hear a sigh of relief coming from its members when they saw little old me.

Then one day I heard the metallic sound of an ancient and imaginary whistle ringing through the cold winds of the snow plains. Whispers of old tales hit me once again and I felt my excitement grow. Oh what a wonder, the train stops here too. 

As I said before, you don't need to know how the story will end, you just need to know what you want. Because the moment you know what you want, you have the power to push the story into that direction. When I got here I didn't know why, didn't care for why. 

Now I know a part of me wanted to be here to feel this type of connection once again. 

Stepping out of the dirty and cracked halls of the ancient theater, being greeted by the few rays of sunlight that could escape the heavy clouds. I felt again like an actor but this time taking on the same role that I also played for the townspeople. My part isn't over yet so  gather around members of this ancient train and let me, your friendly merchant, Sampo Koski, tell you a tale of a doomed city and please, 

help us all. 

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy

[like-eachothersghosts]

found a new pen (old pen) (has been sitting at the bottom of my pencase for years) (don't know how it hasn't dried out yet) which means new art style!! had fun with this haven't done anything like this in a while :) was meant to be a 5 minute doodle (took me an hour) was meant to be tiny corner of a page (is over half the page) i would say you know the image but i don't actually think it's all that known of one (to me it is) (top tier image) might color digitally sometime (just flats) (digital art scares me it's secret evil wizardry and i don't know how to do it) also i really enjoy drawing mics and cables for some reason idk

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Unsolved Mysteries.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[nenilein]

I said this before in my response to firey, but again, this is a misreading of how Sega markets Puyo. Puyo isn't being marketed to children, it's being marketed to millenials who remember Puyo/Madou from their childhoods. Lemme self quote here:

This is really a bit of a misunderstanding of how Puyo is marketed. It's really not a kids game (in fact, Quest has a disclaimer that you should only play it under the age of 14 under the supervision of an adult, because, it's, well, a gacha game, and gacha games are not made for kids at all), but a "nostalgia bait" game, aimed at millenials primarily. Kids are actually just a SUB-SECTION of Puyo's market, which, yes, Sega is happy to get into the fold to, but are not the primary focus. The primary focus are millenials who grew up with Madou/Puyo in the 90s, which is heavily reflected in the merchandising and the character polls. There's a reason why Arle, Schezo, Witch and Draco dominate the polls and merch the way they do.

The reason we don't get Madou 95 type stuff anymore is, again, as I said above, there was a HUGE backlash against Madou 95 back in the 90s. This is NOT what the Japanese fans want. They want cute slice of life shit with these characters, and they want jokes. I actually had a discussion about that with a Japanese fan a week or so ago, where said fan outright said they don't WANT Puyo to go harder on the lore, because it would ruin so many fandom-wide headcanons, it would be more of a hindrance than a help.

Puyo/Madou was never perceived as a plot-heavy franchise by Japanese fans, and plot-heavy installments always tended to be far less popular than plot-light, which makes it a miracle modern Puyo goes as plot heavy as it does and is a testimony to how much the writers care about writing plots with these characters. Back in the compile days, the most plot heavy entries in the series, such as Saturn Madou, tended to be sales failures that contributed to Compile's bankruptcy. The primary reason why Madou Saturn is such a rare game these days is because it sold very poorly.

Okay, now as for what you said...

Okay, so Sonic? Sonic has had SO many irredeemable and dark villains despite being the cool funny hedgehog game that it would make modern Puyo Puyo quake in its boots. 😭 Barring Eggman and Metal Sonic, lemme go over a few.

That's because Sonic, by Sega, has always been perceived as an international franchise, rather an a "Japanese franchise" and is, in fact, barely marketed in Japan. I am serious, I could barely even find Sonic merch on all of my trips to Japan, there's way more for Puyo, and according to Mizuki Hosoyamada, Puyo is FAR more popular within Japan than Sonic (But Sega considers itself an international company first, a Japanese company second, so they push Sonic far heavier).

Sonic is that way, because this is what Sega thinks international (especially American) audiences want! So they write these one-off pure evil villains because they think it brings the "cool" factor that brings sales in the US market.

Puyo, on the other hand, is their safe nostalgia-pillar for Japanese Millenials, so they want marketable characters for that that stick around for more than one game and can be used in fun slice-of-life stuff. Hence why the treatment is different.

If they were that evil, Satan, Ecolo, or Arle (or someone else) would be forced to destroy them (the ultimate fate of Yoggus and Dark Matter), or put them on the bus so they can't come back despite fan demand (Doppel Arle and Strange Klug).

DING DING DING! You're 100% spot-on!

Again, Puyo is the safe nostalgia-pillar! Making character just to murder them doesn't sell safe nostalgia! So they don't wanna invest in it! That shows SUPER well with the Drama CDs and novels, which actually DO have purely evil on-off villains that are disposed off at the end of the story (Ouroboros, the Soul-Sucking Doll, the Mist of Dreams. etc.) But those aren't an investment for Sega, they don't need to pay artists to design them and VAs to voice them, so they allow the writers to write them!

Quest is ACTUALLY averting this now with Thousand/Issen, a villain who is purely evil, goats about being purely evil, and is hated by everyone for being purely evil. The reason they can invest in them tho is because

A) they can make topical commentary on capitalism with them, which is something millenials DIG

B) The way Quest's story mode is structured gives Thousand PLENTY of space to escape into another dimension when things get rough, meaning they can survive even upon being defeated, especially since they are portrayed as a coward. This gives more wriggle room with them and allows them to STILL be a marketable gacha unit.

So yeah, the writers finding "outs" from Sega's "safe nostalgia" marketing strategy. It just requires some work-arounds.

More evidence that it's this- in Puyo 7, Ecolo was full on evil causing problems for fun, but in 20th he lost ALL his memories because there had to be an overarching plot. So he was reverted to just a nuisance like Satan that's safe for the rest of the game's continuity.

I think THAT specifically has a different reason, actually.

Ecolo was redeemed to fill out Ringo's roster of friends.

Suzuran is an INSANELY underpopulated setting (to the point the devs themselves have talked about it) and if they let Ecolo die, it would just be Ringo, Ris and Maguro there, and again, unless it's for Gacha, Sega is very averse to investing into designing new characters that might not get used much (hence why Meena from Puzzle Pop is the easiest, cheapest design to draw, model and animate you could possibly make). So bringing back Ecolo and renvisioning him as an honorary member of the Physics Club was more economical.

Not that I am complaining, because I absolutely love the dynamics between Ecolo and Ringo post-7, I think it adds the existentialism edge to the series that it was lacking up until that, personally. Ahahaha.

I am getting sick of the redeemable/not really evil villains. Yes I do like them but there's just so many now! It was far more varied in Compile!

[Post this and I will reblog with my rant about this subject]

shit, sorry I didn't post earlier. Yap away. Or... yap eway...?