#depending on who you ask its just good tactics

[froggy-nebula]

vriska is really funny cause when you look at the shit she actually does shes not the best at manipulating people or flarp or combat she just cant win at any of her hobbies

[nylaboon]

hi there! can you please write akito with a reader that has a crush & its suuuuuuper obvious about it, so he can't help but tease reader and get them super flustered? thank you!

Rabbit Hole — Akito Shinonome

"Gonna be a smitten mitten till the day you die?"

— in which An gets you to confess to Akito.

akito shinonome x fem!reader

tags: fluff, characters might be a little ooc, probably shit lmao i wrote this at one in the morning, cut me some slack

note: i literally squealed when i read this request i love akito sm

You've been in school for nine years, yet you still struggle with paying attention in class. It wasn't just the teachers who had poor teaching tactics, which didn't help you activate your brain for the remainder of the day, but it was also the lack of sleep you got each night. You spent more time scrolling on social media than you did working on your homework. It was the poor attention span that troubled you. It was your fault, though. You knew you should've been responsible enough to better yourself in these situations. You were getting to that age, anyway. Soon, you would be independent and no longer under the wing of safety connected to your parents.

But until then, you would continue to feed off your friends.

It helped you get things done faster, so it couldn't have been that bad. You weren't entirely dependent on them, but only just a little. Both An and Mizuki were in the same class as you, so that gave you even more of a reason to slack off whenever they attended. They didn't really mind, either. It just gave you three another reason to hang out after school, therefore it was more of a blessing than a curse. Sitting in the corner booth of Weekend Garage, sipping on piping hot coffee, chowing down on sweet treats, and praying to whatever god up there that one of them had the answers to the homework. It was the highlight of your year.

This afternoon was the same as any other. You rested your chin against the table, tapping the end of your pen against your workbook and staring off into space while An yapped Mizuki's ear off about whatever the hell they were talking about. Another part of your guys' "study session" was that it always took at least thirty minutes for you all to actually get to work. It was a lengthy process, but you still somehow managed to get work done.

After yawning and raising your head from the table to lean back comfortably against the booth seat, An switched her attention from Mizuki to you. She smirked pridefully and played with a strand of her hair. "Y'know, y/n, me and Akito did some talking during practice yesterday, and—"

"What did you do?" You asked in horror, slowly sinking down the seat. An shook her head, a sign that your fear was unnecessary. "I didn't say anything, okay?" She took a large gulp of her coffee before continuing her explanation. "We just played a little game of 'what if'."

"By 'we played' do you mean you forced him to answer your questions while he tried to get work done?" Mizuki interjected, to which An rolled her eyes playfully. "Yes, but that's not the point. The point is..."

She paused, leaving you in suspense. Her mouth stayed open for a bit, before shutting—but there was still a smirk on her face. You raised an eyebrow. "The point is?"

She shrugged. "Actually, I'll let you find out on your own."

You couldn't help but get butterflies from that sentence alone. Whether they were good or bad was unknown, but it made you feel nervous, nonetheless. "C'mon An," you begged, "don't be evil..."

You turned to Mizuki, desperation written on your face. "Do you know anything?"

"No," she answered, "nothing for sure. But can I offer my two cents?" You nodded eagerly and waited for her to speak again. "He never snaps at you, but he sure does tease the hell out of you. Odd, don't you think?"

"Right?" An agreed. "He even snaps at Toya sometimes, and that's his best friend."

"What if I just get Ena to put you on?" Mizuki questioned, to which you immediately declined her offer. You chuckled humorlessly and played with the hem of your shirt. "Absolutely not! She would totally make fun of me until the end of time. Maybe even criticize my taste in guys, if she's feeling extra mean..."

Mizuki scoffed and mocked you. "As if she can't already tell you're crushing on him."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you can't act normal around him for the life of you," the bluenette answered for her. "He doesn't even have to be in the room. We could just be talking about him and you'll start giggling like a little girl."

"No, I don't! I didn't even giggle today!"

"Yeah, because you were too busy trying to not have a panic attack over whether I told Akito about your feelings for him or not," she countered, to which Mizuki agreed.

"Yeah, it's, like, painfully obvious how bad you have it for him. I wouldn't be surprised if he already knew. Maybe that's why he teases you so much."

If that was the case, you wouldn't know what to do. If he already knew, then why wouldn't he just tell you instead of making you wait so long for a fifty-fifty answer? The thought made you want to throw up. Not that it was bad, but it was nerve-wracking. It would be nice if he did know, but what if he didn't feel the same? What then? You placed your hand on your stomach and pouted subconsciously. "All this stress is making my stomach hurt."

"And all this pussying out is making my head hurt," Mizuki joked. Meanwhile, An was scrolling on her phone, barely paying attention to the conversation now. "C'mon, y/n! I'm sure if you tell him, he'll be nice about it."

"No, he won't," you whined. "Guys are never nice about this stuff. The last time I confessed to a guy, he told the entire class and they all made fun of me for a month."

"That was in primary school, y/n..."

"So what? It still happened!"

"Y'know what?" An spoke up as she tidied up her area, putting her books and pens back into her schoolbag. "What if we help you practice a confession?" You raised an eyebrow and asked what she meant. "Mizuki will cover your eyes, and I'll pretend to be Akito. Then, you work your magic and confess!"

"Why does Mizuki have to cover my eyes—?"

"Because it'll help you focus on envisioning his presence." It didn't take a genius to know that she completely pulled that claim out of her ass, but you chose to just let her get away with it. "C'mon, y/n! It's getting sad watching you drool over him without knowing if he feels the same or not."

You let out a defeated sigh and threw your head back. "Okay, okay. We can practice, or whatever."

Little did you know that agreeing to her idea would be the best and worst decision you've ever made.

As to why you were doing this outside was a mystery. Maybe it was to avoid getting weird looks from people inside the cafe, but it was equally as bad—and probably worse—to do outside the building. You stood in front of An, awkwardly rubbing at your arm to distract yourself from the pure embarrassment you felt every time someone walked past you three. Mizuki and An, however... You really needed their confidence, because they did not seem to give a shit about gaining people's attention.

"Alright," An said cheerfully, "close your eyes and just imagine that I'm Akito. Mizuki, you cover her eyes so she can't see for sure." Mizuki did as she was told, lightly cupping her hands over your eyes. With that, An cleared her throat and spoke up a second time. "Are you imagining him?"

"Uh," you muttered nervously, "sure, I guess." It took a while for her to speak up again, but you assumed that she had gotten distracted by her phone again. "Now say what you have to say. Don't think about it; just let it flow out."

"...An, this is stupid."

"Trust me! It'll help!"

You sighed and took your time to think. Let the words flow out, you thought. It couldn't be that hard. It was like you were talking to yourself. All you had to do was just forget about An and Mizuki, and you were good. You imagined a world where everything was perfect. A world where it was just you and Akito, for the time being. A world where no one could make fun of you for expressing yourself. A world where everything went your way. You clenched your hands into fists and swallowed hard, preparing to vocalize your thoughts and feelings.

"...since you're totally Akito," you began sarcastically, still finding the whole concept to be ridiculous, "I guess now's the time to finally tell you about how much I'm soooo in love with you, and how annoying it's been to have to deal with these feelings, knowing damn well that I was way too scared to actually tell you about them without my friends forcing me to. And I guess I have to talk about how irritating it is to have to deal with your teasing without knowing if it's platonic or not. And I guess I have to talk about how this is probably a huge waste of time because I know that I'll just pussy out when I actually want to try to confess to you."

You could hear Mizuki sigh behind you. "You're not taking it seriously, y/n!"

"What's the point? It's not like I'm gonna tell him anything anytime soon, so what's the—"

During your mini-rant, you pulled Mizuki's hands away from your eyes and opened them. Instead of An standing in front of you, she was beside Akito, who was now where she stood before. You felt your entire body freeze up at the sight of him. Not only that, but your heart fell all the way down to your ass. He was smirking at you, seemingly finding the situation to be amusing.

"—That's the point," Mizuki finished for you. Not that you were even listening. You were too busy trying to not start hyperventilating. "Why are you here?" You timidly questioned. He was supposed to be at work, so why the hell was he here now?

"I'm on my break and An told me to come here," he answered smugly, not once breaking eye contact other than to blink. "What was that about you being soooo in love with me?" Your jaw clenched and your head became light. Is this what dying felt like? Because, honestly, you were hoping that your next breath was your last.

"It was just a joke," you blurted out and internally cursed at how stupid that lie was. Akito sneered and let out an 'uh-huh'. You weren't getting out of this easily, so you might as well just give up. "Akito," you muttered, "don't do this to me."

"I already knew before this," he admitted nonchalantly. "I just wanted to see how long it would take for you to tell me."

"It would've taken longer if An didn't set me up..." Maybe your crush on him was obvious, as much as you didn't want to believe it. "Can you just, like, tell me what you think so I can rest easily tonight?" He nodded and laughed a bit with that same annoying grin on his face. "I think you're cute, or whatever."

An let out an excited squeal before you could even process what he said. "And I think that you should come clean about this beforehand so we could actually…y'know."

"I don't know," you replied, to which Mizuki quickly spoke up with a grin of her own. "He wants you!" Akito sent her a glare but didn't deny it.

"You're making this a lot less enjoyable for me," he advised the girls. "But I guess that's one way to put it." It felt like the entire world was crumbling beneath your feet but in a good way. You couldn't help but play with your fingers as a nervous tic, but despite your anxiety, you were smiling. Wide. Before you knew it, you walked up to him and pulled him into a tight hug. Akito was caught off guard, but only for a bit. He eventually wrapped his arms around you as well and applied a sweet kiss on the top of your head. It was like a dream.

"Thanks, An…" you mumbled against his chest. You totally owed her after this.

written by @nylaboon

[insipid-drivel]

Warhorses: Which horses are actually good candidates, anyway?

This post is in honor of @warrioreowynofrohan, who asked the question in the comments under my guide, "Horses: Since There Seems To Be A Knowledge Gap". Their question, "Given what you said about too much weight breaking a horse’s spine, how did that work with knights in plate armour?" is one I'm going to try to answer here, since the answer can be very nuanced depending on where and when you're talking about.

Also, while I was a stable hand for years as well as a rider, I never had the opportunity to directly learn more ancient styles of tacking, horse training, and combat, so I don't have any direct experience to draw from with regard to horses used for military purposes. I'm still gonna do my best here with what I know, and research what I don't.

As I've covered in the past, large horses (draft horses) make less-than-ideal warhorses, and so do carriage horses like the elegant and dramatic Friesians.

Let's begin by addressing this from the perspective of creative writing. For you writers and content creators out there, an essential part to the continuity of any historically-themed work you do involving horses will be depicting breeds of horses that didn't exist before a certain time in history. I'm going to approach this question from the stance of, "Medieval-type era warhorses". Horses were used in warfare as late was World War II, but actual horses you ride into battle with knights and archers and bannermen? We actually have to drop the subject of specific modern breeds altogether aside from using them for comparisons.

When discussing warhorses, various cultures have approached them differently. Some cultures will value a specific type of horse above all others, such as the Mongolian Steppe Horse or the American Mustang. Other cultures, which may be from biomes and territories where multiple types of horses are needed for different forms of warfare and tactics, value whichever horses can get their jobs done without their riders getting killed.

Carrying vs. Pulling:

Horses have been used in warfare since as far back as 4000 BC, but their first applications were more as chariot horses. Humans have been riding and working with horses since before we even had stirrups to more easily ride them with! As archaeologists and anthropologists make more discoveries, the more we learn that we humans have been working closely with horses since before we had specialized tools to ride them with. The very first warhorses pulled chariots or carts, which is much easier for a horse's anatomy to handle compared to carrying a heavy weight like an armored rider on their backs, which puts stress directly on their spines where they have very little supporting muscle for supporting a lot of heavy downward weight.

Warhorse Size Categories:

Really, any breed of horse can apply to a niche in warfare if it's needed enough. Even very small, delicate horses have had their place in the history of human combat! Before I continue, it's important to know that there's a unique unit of measuring a horse's height. Rather than measuring a horse's height in centimeters or inches, they're measured in units called "hands". A single "hand" = ~4 inches/10.16cm, and a horse's height is measured based upon the distance between the bottom of their hoof to the tallest part of their shoulders, just at the base of the back of their necks. We don't actually include neck length/head height in a horse's measurements with traditional measuring.

Another rule of thumb: The average horse cannot safely carry anything heavier than about 30% of their total body weight. This is a serious factor to take into mind when deciding on a type of or breed of horse for a mounted warrior of any kind: You need to factor in the OC's starting body weight, and then add on the weight of armor, weapons, and any armor the horse itself may wear along with the weight of its tack.

Light-Weight Horses:

A few examples of lightweight horse breeds whose ancestors have historically been used in combat are Arabians, Barber Horses, and the magnificent Akhal-Teke. Lightweight and delicately-boned horses like those are best applied for military maneuvers that require precision, speed, and endurance, and the rider themselves should specialize in some form of combat or reconnaissance that doesn't require them to wear heavy metal or laminated armors. Archers are good candidates for riding smaller horses, or lightly-armored swordsmen like an Ottoman Janissary.

Central-Asian and North African horses also benefit from having a higher tolerance for hot climates. They can absolutely suffer from heatstroke and cardiac arrest from being forced to run and work in extreme temperatures and should always be provided with the same protective measures in a heatwave as any other horse, but they have a little bit of an edge over horses descended from freezing and temperate climates.

Medium-Weight Horses:

Medium-weight horses started showing up in the archaeological record around about the Iron Age, where chariot warfare was becoming an increasingly utilized form of mobile combat, and people needed bigger, stronger horses capable of pulling heavier loads - such as a chariot with two passengers rather than just one. As cultures began to develop heavier-duty armors made of metals and laminated materials, it also became important to breed horses that were tall and stocky (muscular and with relatively short spines compared to their height), and therefore more capable of carrying riders in increasingly heavy armor. Medium-weight horses were also essential at the dawn of the gunpowder age when the cannon came into use in siege warfare for pulling the heavy, iron cannons into position.

Medium-weight horses are really where we see the beginnings of knights and other warrior classes on horseback come into the forefront of warfare. When you have a horse that's big and strong enough to carry heavier armor and heavier weapons along with a rider wielding them, you have a much deadlier force at your disposal. Strikes from a sword or spear from the back of a galloping horse basically results in a sword capable of cutting through enemy soldiers like a hot knife through butter.

Important Note: Traditionally, cavalrymen wield blunt swords when attacking from a charging horse's back. When a horse is charging at full speed, the sharpness of a blade becomes less important than the blade's ability to stay in one piece when it impacts hard armor and bone. A blunted edge basically turns a cavalryman's sword into a thin club that's better at holding up against smashing through multiple layers of armor and bone compared to a thinner, more delicate sharpened edge that can shatter from a high-speed impact.

Heavy-Weight Horses:

The direct ancestors of modern draft horses, such as the Shire Horse, only began to appear around about the beginning of the European Medieval Era, and were far and away not even close to the enormous sizes of the draft horses we have today. Any horse counts as a "Heavy-weight" classed horse if its weight exceeds 1500lbs/680kgs.

Heavy-weight horses were really more bred for pulling enormous weights rather than carrying knights. While yeah, there is some evidence that suggests that heavy-weight horses were used by heavily-armored knights, historians argue a lot about whether it was a rule or an exception (such as with Henry VIII, who continued to ride well after he had begun to weigh more than 350lbs/158kgs, and even went to war in France in his final years on horseback). Generally speaking, medium-weight horses tend to be the right balance of agile and strong for carrying someone that's going to actively be fighting. Heavy-weight horses were bred to be a lot more tolerant to the chaos and frightening stimulation of the sounds of battle, but medium-weighted horses generally tended to be more suited to moving efficiently through dense packs of soldiers and weaving around other horses.

Ponies:

While actually being the smallest class of warhorse, ponies were essential when it came to carrying cargo and working as pack-horses. In certain forms of terrain, such as mountains, large horses pulling big carts full of supplies or soldiers could often be extremely impractical. In situations where an army needed to move on foot and form a narrow line in order to travel, ponies were able to traverse much narrower and rougher terrain while carrying smaller loads to their destination, when heavier horses would struggle more under their own weight and dexterity.

Europe-Specific Terminologies:

If you're a writer reading this and writing a piece set in the European Medieval age, there are specific terms used for the different classes I listed of warhorses above that I'm gonna list:

Destriers: The Destrier was a universal term for the iconic knight-carrying, jousting horse. They were also sometimes referred to as "Great Horses" due to their reputations in combat settings. Destriers could have just about any appearance, but were rarely taller than 15.2 hands, or 62inches/157cm. They were capable of carrying heavily-armored knights (although knights in full plate mail rarely rode into battle and stayed on the horse the entire time - they tended to specialize at grouping up and killing a lot of footsoldiers swarming them at once and preventing breaks in defenses from being overwhelmed by an oncoming army; in the case of Edward the Black Prince, we have substantial evidence in the form of his surviving brigandine that a mounted soldier or knight was more likely to wear chainmail and brigandine with a tabard on their body with their arms, feet, and heads the most heavily armored in plate when they intended to fight on horseback, making them a little lighter and more maneuverable, but I may be waaay off base there because I'm thinking of more of Italian soldiers who used full plate and how they applied it in battle more than any other example) and wearing armor themselves.

Interestingly, the sex of a destrier was often chosen strategically. Stallions (horses that haven't been neutered) are more aggressive, and could both act as combatants on their own if their knight was dismounted or killed, but could give away an army's location if they were attempting to move stealthily. Stallions whinny and shriek a lot when they're horny or arguing with each other, which is most of the time.

Mares were often chosen by Muslim armies for being much less vocal, and therefore much more capable of stealth. Geldings (neutered males) were the preferred mounts of the Teutonic Knights, a Catholic military group, since they couldn't be stolen and used to breed more horses for the enemy army.

Coursers:

Coursers were the most common Medieval European warhorse. It's important to remember that in Medieval Europe, most armies were almost entirely comprised of common men - serfs subject to the will of their landlords, not far removed from slaves in many ways - who couldn't afford the highly-prized and expensive Destriers. Coursers were usually a bit lighter than Destriers, but were still strong enough to carry someone wearing armor. Coursers were also a little more utilitarian, because they were also sometimes used in hunting as well as warfare, so they had a valuable use outside of warfare that the owner could benefit from.

Rouncey:

A rouncey was an all-purpose horse that could be used for leisure and travel-riding as well as be trained for war. They were a lot more likely to be found on the farm of a serf or independent farmer of some kind, as they could fill a lot of different roles depending on what they were needed for. Their sizes weren't really important as much as their ability to get the job done.

It's also critical to remember that, when talking about warhorses, we're usually talking about eras long past. In general, thanks to resource availability and incredible advances in medicine, modern humans are significantly taller, and therefore heavier, than people from the European Medieval era and prior. While fatness was valued in many cultures for its suggestion of wealth, most working-class and serf-class people worked intensely physically-demanding daily lives just to maintain their own homes. They were a few inches shorter on average than we are today, had greater fluctuations in body fat distribution depending on how harsh or bountiful the harvest season had been and the season in which a war was taking place (the average person's weight would swing by 30lbs or more on average every year prior to the industrial era), and cavalry were usually chosen based upon skill in the saddle as well as physical size when considering the application of medium or heavy armor being placed on the horse's back and body.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

hiii, i am writing my first book/novel. its highlighting d***th, romance, mystery, politics, pretty questionable characters w revenge, thriller and lots of women n power play. its my first book and im not that educated about such themes. but this rough plot i have in my mind is so beautiful that underperforming this excellent trope would be a shame....ive never written before so could you please what to do to actually write this kinda theme to my heart's satisfaction. I've never written a freaking chap before and now im really lost

Writing Ideas: Revenge Tropes

some tropes related to revenge, thriller, women, and power play

Afterlife Avenger: This trope involves the circumstance where a character explicitly still chooses to pursue conflicts against whatever's left of their hated target long after they've passed.

Best Served Cold: Named for the French (or Sicilian, or Klingon, or drow, depending on who you ask) proverb, "Revenge is a dish best served cold." At least in the case of drow, it also means one can have well-planned revenge and drive them mad with fear as a bonus.

Crusading Widow: The death or murder of their significant other motivates the character to seek revenge.

Defeat as Backstory: A protagonist (or some other character's backstory) in a story begins by having been defeated either before the story began, or early on in the story (often in a prologue).

Dying Curse: With his dying breath, a character wishes ill fortune upon his killers, or some other personal enemy.

Pay Evil unto Evil: In real life, the sort of thinking behind this trope is called "retributive justice".

Revenge Through Corruption: Instead of inflicting physical harm, the villain attacks the mind and soul.

Villain-by-Proxy Fallacy: When someone goes after not only a crime's perpetrator, but those who supplied the perpetrator or were otherwise marginally connected to it, whether or not the people involved had anything to do with the actual crime.

Woman Scorned: A woman who's been dumped, cheated on, or otherwise done wrong by her significant other (or, in some cases, merely thinks she's been).

Examples

Alexandre Dumas's The Count of Monte Cristo, probably the greatest revenge story of all time.

In the original version of Beauty and the Beast, the Prince's widowed mother goes off to fight a war and leaves a wicked fairy to help him rule. When the Prince comes of age, she tries to seduce him and turns him into a Beast when he refuses her advances.

In Moby-Dick, Captain Ahab makes it clear throughout the book that he'll pursue Moby Dick to, into, through, and out of Hell, and even then he still won't be satisfied until the whale suffers forever for its slight against him.

Crime and Punishment: One of the antagonists of the novel, Porfiry, works as a police officer and interrogator, which usually would qualify as a good-aligned job. As you further witness this officer's tactics in catching criminals, you see him commit to bribery, thievery, death-threats, and psychological torture to force an admission. Furthermore, he seems to actually enjoy it, toying with amateur criminals like a cat torturing a wounded mouse. The justification, of course, being that the victim of this was a murderer, and therefore deserves it.

George R. R. Martin's Fire & Blood: After the war, Lady Joanna Lannister has a beef to pick with the Greyjoys, who've taken up raiding the coast, including killing a few Lannisters. She decides the best course of action is go to the Iron Islands and kill every man, woman and child she can find. She just settles for burning a lot of things and abducting one Greyjoy, gelding him and turning him into her fool.

Feyd Rautha Harkonnen receives a Dying Curse in Dune. After killing a combat slave in the arena, his opponent's final words are "One day one of us will get you." Given that this fighter is not just a slave, but one of the soldiers from the army of the Harkonnen's blood enemies, the Atreides, this may be prophetic.

In A Song of Ice and Fire, Arya Stark's conflation of justice and personal vengeance leads her to Villain-by-Proxy Fallacy. While many of people on her death list certainly deserve to be brought to justice, such as the Tickler for torture and Weese for abuse, others were merely acting on orders, such as the Hound, doing their jobs or are just guilty by association. Cersei Lannister is on her death list for being involved in the execution of Ned Stark, but Cersei wasn't complicit in that activity, and even spoke out against it. Same with Ilyn Payne, who was just doing his job as the royal executioner. The real mastermind of Ned's death, Littlefinger, is not on the list. Meryn Trant is on the list for killing Syrio Forel, but there isn't any evidence to confirm the crime. Polliver and Dunsen are on the list for flimsy reasons, like stealing. She has Chiswyck murdered for the crime of not being as funny as he thinks he is (granted, Chiswyck was joking about a gang rape, but that isn't the reason Arya cites as his crime). The conflation of justice and vengeance, and how that conflation leads to this trope, is one of the key themes of the entire story.

Queen Dido in The Aeneid, who prophesies that her and Aeneas's people will meet again in war (the Punic Wars — her future, Virgil's past). Particularly tragic in that it's made fairly obvious that he'd have stayed with her if he'd had the choice.

Sidney Sheldon's The Best Laid Plans: Leslie Stewart plots to ruin the career of Oliver Russell when he leaves her at the altar to marry a woman whose father promises to further his political career.

The Hunger Games: The Pay Evil Unto Evil trope is discussed all the way through Mockingjay, and reaches its culmination when President Coin suggests either executing all Capitol citizens or forcing their children into the Games.

Source ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Hi, here are some tropes I found related to the themes you described. You can find more in the source linked above. Study how it is portrayed in different types of media, and in your favourite films/books, to gain inspiration for your own story. You can take the rough idea/plot you already have, and try to incorporate techniques and tropes used by other authors, but then deviate from borrowing those ideas when your story starts to flow naturally. All the best with your writing!

[terrence-silver]

Now the series is over, I just want to say that it's really cool how Terry having an unseen Beloved in Cobra Kai completely fits the narrative. Fine, it's slightly creepy that he also keeps Cheyenne around but goodness, Terry Does That. He does invent complete personas - like his poorsona and Malibu Terry - and he's been know to lie through his teeth, so whatever he claims on screen can't negate Beloved's existence. You know I like to play around with a specific fanon pairing most of the time but Terry does have a 30+ year gap in his relationship history in canon where a hidden Beloved could be and it would explain so much. So, so much!

Mission Cheyenne.

Terry Silver x Reader.

---

(something to commemorate the end of this show with; one for the road!)

---

-"So, you wish me to —"-

-"I want you to be her smoke and mirrors."- 

Terry interjects, finishing her sentence for her, doing a sharp turn on his heel to face the woman sitting a divan with a colossal quadruple window facing the ocean, one elbow thrown over the edge of the Pierre Chareau velvet sofa; the low glass table in front of her empty; she didn't drink while negotiating business. Didn't drink depending of her client's preferences either. If they wanted the role of a person of leisure and libertine attitudes, she'd drink, for the sake of the ruse, whatever they asked of her to drink. If their preferences demanded someone who was anti-alcohol and as clean as a whistle, she'd go as far as tentatively sip on a carrot juice and give an Oscar worthy performance pretending she loved it too. She was a professional. With exactly thirty years of experience under her belt. Precisely why he chose her. Furthermore, why he choose this manor, overlooking the coastline too; they went together well, like two specifically commissioned accessories --- a matching purse with matching shoes and the older a man got, the more careful, vigilant and meticulous he needed to be of any and all details. Make sure he wasn't slipping in his golden years. That the sharks wouldn't smell any blood or weakness he might accidentally excrete if he lets guard down for all but a moment, thinking the waters are safe to swim in now --- that he's made sure all the apex predators have gone extinct and that he's the only one left.

Because of that, if anything, an old man needed to be more calculating than ever.

Wouldn't be the first time he'd be doing something like this either.

-"To be her subterfuge. To keep all eyes away from her. That's what I want, yeah."- 

Terry adds simply, because it was a simple matter in its essence.

Yet simultaneously, infinitely complicated.

-"Show up in the newspapers with me. Be photographed here and there and everywhere when it’s opportune. Keep the spotlight tactically on yourself. Things of that nature. Purely business."-

He explains and truth of the matter was that he knew many people wouldn't understand --- people needed to have lived his life for as long as he lived to begin to comprehend the doubled edged sword wealth, power and even fame tended to walk hand in hand with; he never wanted you dragged around in the media. People commenting on what you wore. How you looked like. Where you were from. If your nose was too big, too small, if some feature of yours needed surgical corrections, if you made a gaffe everyone was likely to mock for ages or simply do as much as look at you with ill will. Some people would call it madness. Obsession. Hell, maybe it was. Maybe it was love. After all, it could've been both and maybe there wasn't a difference between the two in the first place. Maybe he wanted to spare you. Needed to spare you, because he knew himself. He knew that if someone badmouthed you, shat all over your good name, tried to use you against him, pierced you with the slightest bit of attention that could make his skin crawl he'd burn the world down and everyone in it, so for his sake, as well as your own; for the sake of self-control, this was prudent. Was that so bad? Sparing someone you cared about? Throwing someone else in the line of fire? Someone willing? Someone who did this for a living? Not unlike a stunt double doing dangerous choreography and performances as to prevent the main star from getting hurt; Hollywood was right in his immediate neighborhood after all. Everything had a price and nothing was for free; if he could buy you the ultimate luxury of privacy away from prying eyes, he would.

The public would think one thing because that's what he'd want them to.

Allow them to.

The truth would be what Terry Silver makes it out to be.

Cheyenne Hamid nods, cross-legged and leisurely, albeit clearly amused.

A professional companion and occasional bodyguard posing as a common escort for several high profile celebrities. Men of wealth, politicians in the making, magnates. Anyone and everyone who needed to keep their private lives under wraps. Former Mossad turned for-hire actress; maintaining Apps, Blogs and the occasional shot at Socially-Environmental efforts as an acceptable facade for her other, more polarizing, dealings. She had all the credentials he was looking for and was global enough to win him some brownie points by proxy, and if anything, he needed the re-brand to someone more digestible by the 21st century's standards. Hilariously enough, she was even adept at martial arts if need be, to some degree.

He smiled a little when he found that one out; the assonance of that particularly apt.

 -"While my professional standpoint demands I don’t ask more questions than necessary if the compensation is right, on a personal level, I need to be curious."-

She clicks her tongue cordially.

-"Just, why?"-

She asks and it wasn't a question easy to answer.

Yet, it was easier than anything in the world.

Because he loved you.

Wanted to keep you safe like he wanted his own lifeline safe.

You were his artery.

Why would he want his artery exposed where someone could hit it?

-"To keep a lady hidden, well, there has to be more to the story than you’re letting on."-

Cheyenne Hamidi raises her eyebrow at him inquisitively as he lowers himself into an armchair opposite of him; the furniture he requested brought only just yesterday and set down exactly as he wanted. The staff would officially start working tomorrow. People who would pose as a posse of Ms. Hamidi's friends? They would come when summoned. Mingle around when he wished. Set out like so many appliances, decorative details and garden chairs. -"It’s not some criminal wrongdoing, is it? You didn’t buy her or something? You’re not on some watchlist, are you?"- She prods, not unkindly, her joke laced with careful scrutiny nonetheless, like she was hellbent to catch a glimpse of the truth through harmless banter, her English accent honeyed and laced with barb --- optionally, she let him know that she could successfully put on any dialect he so pleased, but Terry figured an English-American pairing was very apt for the West Coast elite. Very noncontroversial and conventional. Nothing surprising about that to anyone. So noncontroversial and expected even Taylor Swift sang about how much she loved the English nowadays. Although, it amused Terry just what a convincing French accent his employee could do. Very believable. -"Ms. Hamidi, you ask me that like you’ve never worked for criminals before."- Was his turn to hit back with some barb of his own. He was aware of her CV; read it from cover to cover. Some interesting names in there. Nonetheless, he straightens his shoulders out. No, you weren't a victim of human trafficking. He's married you fair and square and has been engaged to you before heading out to Vietnam. The only person still living today who knew about it was John. -"But, no, I didn’t buy her."- Terry corrects, not liking the playful, insinuating look she was giving him, occasionally being hit by this overwhelming urge for everyone to understand his capacity of devotion and commend him for it. Envy him for it. Revile him for it. -"You’re the pathologically jealous sort then."- She retorts knowingly and well, that bit Terry couldn't deny. So, he doesn't. -"You know, I once worked with a man so jealous that he kept his wife locked in a smart house out in Qatar. In a residence that was exclusively voice activated."- She muses, recollecting, taunting at least a little bit, like someone hellbent on giving him ideas.

Like he hasn't already thought of that.

-"His voice, of course."-

She smiles into her own chin, one hand idly smoothing the velvet of the sofa.

-"No going in, no going out unless he gave the word. Quite literally."-

Unwittingly, Terry imagines a palatial estate somewhere in the desert with nobody around for miles and miles where only you and him could exist in the whole wide world, where everything could be as he visualized it.

-"So, you can begin to imagine a trace of what I feel."-

He responds, finding his own voice peppered with more of a melancholic quality than he intended, reminding himself that even in front of someone working for him, it was infinitely better if he came off like a deluded maniac than someone who loved this much. The waves crash against the beachfront and the white walls separating his private pier from the sprawling, manicured lawn out front and Cheyenne's neck is turned, watching the vista, taking what would be her new abode in the months to come, or however long this lasted. -"Well, you’re not the first Billionaire who keeps his wife, children and grandchildren hidden. It’s more frequent than you can imagine, Terrence."- She shrugs, with a weird aura of understanding; the way she said the words children and grandchildren causing something to ache profoundly inside of him, deep in his gut; some of them were abroad, some of their running the firm, but a man like him? With as many enemies as him? It was infinitely better if people simply didn't know. He was willing to play the role of an abandoned, forsaken old man. Wouldn't be the first role he played either. Was like putting on a new button up shirt. -"Out in the Middle East, anyway. In The Valley, though? You have to be one of a kind out here. I thought you're all Liberals."- She cocks her head to one side once her eyes are piqued in his direction again. Terry chuckles. Yeah, she could be pretty funny too. At least during the duration of this little theatre, he wouldn't be tediously bored. -"Seems like no man truly is. That it's antithetical to their nature."- She sighs and her heavy exhale is a sign of negotiations being concluded, and if they weren't, he was concluding them right now; by Monday, the news title would dawn in every publication that made any sort of difference anywhere and the smaller ones that didn't matter would merely follow suit by osmosis; Exclusive scoop; Terry Silver dates so and so, read more at page so and so. -"We have a deal then."- He doesn't ask. He surmises. -"You call the shots. We have a deal."- Cheyenne raises her hands in defeat, agreeing casually, setting them down to smooth the surface of her floor length, Oscar De La Renta floral maxi dress; he needed something seemingly friendly and approachable on her, but still so ironically infuriating that people would be likely to talk and fume on the choice of attire on someone claiming to be all about being sustainable and green. His goal exactly.

Throw the dogs a bone deliberately.

Watch them go to at each other because of it.

It was propaganda and psychological warfare. Not unlike the shit they did in 'Nam.

-"Any details you’d like to work out? A role you want me to play? Specifications of any kind I should know about?"- 

She inquires as a way of finalizing things; his addendum is immediate.

-"Be obnoxious as possible."- 

-"Pardon me?"-

For once, her self confidence has evaporated and her mouth falls agape.

Terry stands up from his seat, slowly buttoning up his blazer, infinitely pleased.

She asked him, didn't she? Well, he was telling her.

-"I want you to be an irritating, salad-chewing, arrogant, holier-than-thou champagne hippie so people are compelled to read about you out of pure hatred if anything else. Infuriate them so much it doesn’t even cross their mind to look into anything else but the show you’re putting on for them."-

Terry annunciates every word, one at a time, so it has time to settle in, this undeniable reality that he deliberately wanted to make herself a source of vexation for everyone who ever meets her; fact of life was, something he's learned in almost seventy years of being alive that when someone was unbearable people were compelled, perhaps against their own better judgement to linger on such an individual. That meant even less of a chance of any shred of unwanted light ever falling on you. Because a Cheyenne would be here playing mimicry and mimes in front of the labyrinth that was his life. He looms over the table separating their respective seats and he fixates his gaze right on the woman who's brows have shot up, standing in the middle of her forehead, surprised. A man could knew he had it made when he could still shock an individual who's undoubtedly heard and seen it all. -"And when our deal is done and your contract is expired, I expect you to keep up the ruse. Act out the role of the begrudging, jilted irritant who won’t take 'no' for answer. Just in case someone’s wire tapping phones and reading messages. You��ll play out the role from prologue to epilogue because that's what I want you to do."- He points his finger right at her so the point of the emphasis he was underlining has a chance to settle in and dry like concrete while he walked towards a small safe standing on the freshly set up mantlepiece, the code already unlocked for the occasion and nothing but a manilla folder inside of it; unnamed, unmarked and untitled. He lifts it up briefly for her to see, throwing it on the glass table in front of her with a thud. He was just an old man, after all. He had ample time to dedicate himself to things like this, as a side-hobby, for its own sake. -"Here’s a copy of the script I’ve mentioned. You can look through it at leisure. Personally put together by me."- His index finger is still on the file and if Cheyenne Hamidi was shocked a moment ago, her mouth unfurls suddenly as she heartily threw her head full of dark, heavy curls back in laughter, immaculately white, ceramic veneers on full display; he chuckles with her. What? Did she expect he'd allow her to improvise and take matters into her own hands. He knew how to write an annoying, West Coast quasi-hippie better than anyone else.

He was already a young man in the 60's.

-"Oh, how mindful!"-

She covers her lips for a second, right before clapping her hands together in mirth.

-"You know, I was once a crisis actor, a long, long time ago —"-

She starts, trailing off and catching her breath.

Oh, he knew. She once pretended to be a natural disaster survivor posed to take off the attention from actual victims and their families threatening to sue a company responsible for forest fires that devasted an entire neighborhood and the wretched, rotten opportunism of that was so vile that he had to be entertained by it when he first discovered it; so much experience and untapped potential that could've gone to good use with the highest bidder. Now, here's a likeminded, duplicitous asshole, he thought.

 -"But, you? You really are something. Why I enjoy working with you."-

She complements and he hums in response, producing a bottle from one of the cabinets; a thirty year old golden Macallan and two heavy crystal glasses clutched thumb to index finger in each hand--- now that business was done, a toast was very much deserved. -"From one professional to another."- Terry coos, pouring and sliding her her liquor across the smooth, glass table with carved legs, lifting up his shot whiskey glass for a toast, catching her lingering and adjusting herself in her seat, like something was still on her mind. He catches her smoothing her own chin, looking around, as is searching for answers in the walls, on the surrounding paintings, the interior decoration, the discreet folder in front of her, the palm trees in the courtyard swaying against an overcast, vanilla sky that heralded a rain. -"One last thing, though. A woman’s curiosity."- She threads carefully, puckering her lips anxiously, her voice hopeful as she watched him take a sip, digging his own hand into his pocket; recognizing his own body language and what it was saying. -"May I see her? A picture? A portrait? The real flesh and blood person?"- She requests, for once vulnerable sounding, not to be mistaken for a trick to get him disarmed and empathetic. His own shoulders shimmy and he feels himself change positions, from one leg to another, throwing his jaw out, lips firm. -"Not a requirement of my work terms, but lets just say I’d be fascinated to meet the individual who’d inspire, well, all of this."- Cheyenne extends her arm riddled in golden bangles, bracelets and fingers riddled with oversized statement rings, gesturing vaguely at the table and the behavioral script he's designed for her and without a shred of joy, Terry snorts coldly. Everyone always thinks they're the exception to the rule, huh? She really thought a man who made up an entire artificial life for himself; who went as far as acquiring this property, furnishing it in a way that painted a certain light of him, hiring out a whole person to add paint to that image, even going as far as changing his own fashion sense for a spell, everything on him all non-threatening beiges, pastels and jewel tones, his hair worn down, in a display of pliancy and friendless, eyes obscured by the warm tinge of his yellow shades, like a flesh eating plant luring in an unassuming fly with its colors...she really thought that man would just go and make introductions to someone he coveted more than life itself?

The soft drizzle starts beating against the colossal windows.

Winter has come to The Valley.

-"I’ve been married for forty three years and that’s a line I’ve never crossed so far. Don’t intend to now, Ms. Hamidi."-

He senses his voice looming, taking on a low edge; dangerous and unflinching.

The woman sits there quietly as the windswept waves crash outside the veranda.

Something akin to suppressed awe in her face.

-"Extreme circumstances require extreme measures."-

Is the last thing Terry Silver says, downing his liquor in one breath.

Your face as vividly in front of him as the ocean.

[stopbuggingm3]

An interpretation of Slenderman I love is the idea of him as a stalker, a predator, and a manipulator rather than a powerful or aggressive force. His tendrils and demon face/non-face? Cool as hell. No arguments there. But to me the way he's able to get into people heads and break them from the inside out the way he does is much more terrifying.

He's used force as a means of control before, such as with Kate, Masky, and Hoody, but he also leans heavily into manipulation tactics like he does with Alex, Toby, Cat Hunter, and Bones.

Slender, in my interpretation, manipulates and controls his proxies by taking away their identities and making them dependent on him. This can be seen in each of the proxies. Toby, Kate, Masky, Hoody, Cat Hunter, and Bones (just walk with me here) all had parts of their identities stolen by Slender in one way or another.

In my mind, Masky and Hoody were brought back by Slender/The Operator after the events of Marble Hornets to act as his proxies. Slender saw something in them, whether it be their strength, skill, cunningness, etc, and decided they were too useful to let go to waste. But, as their track records show, this isn't something they'd ever accept willingly, and so had parts of their identities taken when they were brought back to ensure their loyalty to Slender wouldn't slip (why wasn't Alex brought back? idk ask Skully i haven't read the MH comics yet. For now lets blame it on his temper making him too likely to step out of line.)

Kate I'm admittedly undecided on as of right now. Her psyche is definitely damaged, having part's forcefully torn away as a result of Slenders torment, but whether or not her animalistic behaviour is a learnt behaviour in order to cope with what's been done to her or a direct result of Slenders torment is unknown. She won't say, and she won't leave either. That's not an option for her anymore, she knows that much at least.

Cat hunter is a mix of both, in a way. His push to become a proxy was forceful, with Slender physically making him kill his father, but its the blows to his self worth and constant reminder of his actions that cause him to remain as one. Guilt has taken away his self worth, and all he can do is try fill the hole best he can with what he has

Toby had his memories from before his time with Slender removed, taking away any sense of identity he might've had before becoming a proxy and making him dependent on Slenders protection for survival. Where else would he go? He doesn't have anyone else, he's a wanted criminal. And besides, life with Slender is good. He clings to that false sense of freedom without even knowing why he holds it so dear. Why would he ever want to leave?

Bones has had her identity tampered with by Slender since she was young to the point she can't discern what parts of herself are truly herself and what parts were planted there by Slender. She grew up with his voice in her head, convincing her that his words are her own thoughts and that she can't be free unless she is with him. "That violence? That's normal. They don't understand you here, you don't have anyone. You're trapped and alone but I can set you free. Don't you want that?" She doesn't know who or even what she is without him and his "guidance". He's all she knows. He's all she has.

The proxies will never be free. They're going to die out there in those woods at the hands of a monster. And the worst part? Most of them don't even know they're trapped.

[the-guppy-fish]

Cold snake.

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Tags: colleagues to friends to lovers, hesitation, confessions, callsign: Viper, its a little long, but! smut will follow, 3 parts...maybe more to come.

Content warnings: none. (other than my possible spelling mistakes)

Summary: Ghost being a little soft...for now. (2,8k words)

Edited slightly: 27.11.24 (military inaccuracies)

About Vipers: named after the family Viperidae, they are venomous and have long hinged fangs that permit deep penetration and injection of their venom. These snakes can decide how much venom to inject depending on the circumstances. Rattlesnakes for example, have evolved the strike-and-release bite mechanism, which provides a huge benefit to snakes, by minimizing contact with potentially dangerous prey animals.

Vipers come in many different sizes and colours, they are highly adapted to their environment and the type of prey they hunt.

You and Ghost fled the warehouse. The mission had been successful. While Ghost kept the coast clear, you retrieved the confidential documents, Price wanted you to secure from a target warehouse. Once the documents were safely tucked inside the pocket of your tactical vest, you gave Ghost the sign to get out of there.

Just as you left the warehouse, you heard Price in your earpiece,

"Ghost, Viper, get the hell out of there. Enemy activity confirmed by drones. Safehouse Foxtrot-Whiskey-Bravo is clear. Pick-up tomorrow at 1700 at the safehouse. Radio-silence until then. Do not answer. Price out."

You and Ghost simply nodded at each other, silently running off in direction of the safehouse, while keeping eyes and ears open for any activity in and around the warehouse. Once you had laid back a decent amount of space between you and the rusty warehouse, running through tall grass sprinkled with frost, you walked the remaining distance to the safe house in silence, still being alert to your surroundings.

A few hours pass, and the sun begins to set. You're still marching towards the safehouse, now crossing a large meadow surrounded by trees. The cold creeps into your nostrils and fingertips, as the warming rays of sunlight slowly hide beneath the horizon. Your breath is visible, pulsing through the fabric of your balaclava in small clouds. Ghosts breath-clouds are much larger than yours, his huge lungs needing a lot more air than yours, to feed oxygen to all his muscles.

You can see the small safe house not too far away, hiding in between large pine trees. While walking the last few hundred meters, your eyes fall onto Ghosts back, clad in tactical gear and tucked-in weapons. The leg of his camouflage trousers slightly fluttering in the cold breeze, the grey fabric hugging his hips just right. Do you feel bad about looking? Not at all. It is not the first time your eyes linger on him, how could you not? When he is so largely built and looks like he has been sculpted by a group of goddesses, who knew exactly what they were doing?

Your relationship to Ghost used to be very professional. You only spoke together when needed. Always kept the conversation light and work-related. When you were surrounded by the rest of the 141, you barely even glanced at each other.

It was safe to say, you were surprised beyond your imagination, the day Ghost began small-talking with you.

A few weeks back, when you were home on base, the huge brute of man asked you, if you had had a good day. Just like that. Over dinner in the mess hall. While it was just the two of you. Normally you would have just ate in silence and then given the other a polite nod once you finished, and left. But no. You carefully chatted with him, being slightly SUPER suspicious of his friendliness. After finishing your meals, the conversation naturally died, and you went to each your dorms.

The following evening it happened again, and then he evening after that, and all the following ones. But always when it was just the two of you. Ghost would go completely silent if any one else joined you.

You slowly began to talk more and more, sharing more and more details of your lives. Even though Ghost rarely shared anything from his life. If he did, oddly enough, he mostly shared about his favourite meals or new movies in the telly.

You began to talk throughout the day, not just at dinner. When he caught you in the briefing room or in either of your offices, he initiated a conversation, eyes fixed to your face, looking at every little polite smile and expression you made.

But always, when you two were alone.

One time, Soap walked in on one of your conversations in the common room. You had stood with your back to Ghost, rummaging in the small tea-kitchen, trying to make a cuppa for the both of you. Ghost watched your every move, how your clothes hugged you frame, while listening intently.

You did not notice Soap entering, before turning around and only seeing Soap.

Ghost nowhere to be found.

"Who are ye talking to bonnie?", Soap looked at you with confused eyes.

"Uhm, I was just talking to Ghost." you answered, perplexed at Ghosts sudden disappearance.

"Seems like he flew away, bon. Don't feel bad about it, you know how he can be." You tried to hide your disappointment, while Soap eyed the second cup of tea in your hands with large puppy eyes.

When you met Ghost later that evening at dinner, he initiated conversation as he did every dinner, but the conversation failed to reach around his disappearance. You let it go, thinking he had to leave for some important reason unbeknownst to you.

The conversation moved along, you finished eating and you chatted back and forth, like some table tennis ball experiencing the match of its life.

While talking you accidentally unconsciously touched his arm, which was resting on the table you ate at, while telling a (to you) very exhilarating story about your latest attempt at making a new soup at home.

You were so enthralled with your story telling, that you completely disregarded the shift in Ghosts form.

He went from sitting sluggishly, resting his elbows on the table, arms crossed, and looking at your lips, while you rambled on and on about that soup.

Ghost cared little about soup, but when you spoke about it, it seemed to be the most interesting topic of conversation ever. When your fingers found his forearm and snaked around his bare skin, he froze. His mind short circuiting and vision blurring. Still looking at you, feigning his newfound interest of soup, every fibre in him focussed on your soft skin on his rough and scarred one. He fell deeper and deeper into the blur your touch had created in his mind. All his thoughts vapourised and no sound was picked up by his ears.

All to sudden, Ghost was ripped from his hyper focussed state by your voice.

"Ghost? Hey, what do you think?" He blinked the fog away from his eyes, cleared his throat, and croaked out a quick "sorry?", focussing his eyes on yours, mind still running laps in his skull over your fingers resting on his arm.

"I asked, whether you think the soup would be better with or without garlic?", you looked at him with a small smile, expecting his answer curiously.

Ghosts ears peaked at your question, and he could not avoid the small smile forming on his lips under the fabric covering his face.

"With." was all he managed to say, which earned him a satisfied smile from you.

"I'll try that next time then."

With that, you gave his arm a quick squeeze and lifted your fingers from his skin to pick up your tray. Your touch and bold display of comfort around him made his mind grow foggy again.

"You done as well?" You stood up with your hands on your tray and nodded to the one beside him. He gave you a silent nod, and you pulled his tray across the table to balance yours on top of it.

While you went up to return the trays, Ghost sat completely stunned, waiting for you to return, so he could walk you to your dorm (another thing he had absentmindedly begun doing).

Back in the meadow, you and Ghost had reached the treeline and made it to the poor example of a safe house: a simple shed, neatly tucked away by the large pines, small enough for you to question whether there was space enough for two rooms in it.

And you were right. The sheds interior consisted of a small fireplace, a bunkbed, a large chest and a table with two chairs. Everything looked well used and ancient in your eyes, the smell of old cigarettes and firewood confirmed your suspicion about this place being many decades older than you.

Ghosts deep voice tore you from your disappointed thoughts about the safehouse.

"You're on top." While he began stripping out of his gear, placing it neatly beside the lower bunk, he had claimed for himself.

You followed along, closing the wooden door and bolting it shut with the large piece of wood acting as a lock. You laid your gear at the foot-end of your bed, as to keep it close while you slept, should anyone want to pay your shed a visit during the night. Your gut told you that this place was safe enough, for you to relax in. The remote location, the bolted door, and Ghosts presence, assured you that this was good enough for tonight.

Neither you nor Ghost lit up the fireplace, knowing the smoke outside and light from inside the shed could lead anyone to your super cozy hiding spot. The shed was safe enough to not have one of you keep watch for the night. So far away from anyone and anything, bolted and locked, no light or other visible factors making it stand out. No one knew anyone was here, besides Price.

After having settled into the thin mattress, under a thick wool blanket Ghost had pulled from the chest, you tried to get some rest.

But sleep never came to you, as the cool air crept inside and under your blanket. For what felt like hours, you laid crumpled up like a small ball to keep, whatever heat was left, close to your body. But nothing worked, the cold bore into your skin and settled uncomfortably in your bones.

You scolded yourself: as a special forces soldier, you were supposed to fend for your self in every possible way; and you usually did so, perfectly.

But this never ending, merciless cold was going to beat you.

Your stubbornness kept you from climbing down to look for another blanket. But also the thought of waking up Ghost; anyone who woke him up from his precious few hours of sleep, would feel his wrath in the morning.

So you stayed. Freezing and shivering under your heavy blanket. Just existing in the coldness, hoping that some heat would come your way, at some point.

Heat never came, but a deep voice did instead.

"Viper?" Ghost called out quietly.

Your teeth clattered at you let out a weak "yeah?".

Ghosts gravelly voice made its way to your ears again, "If you don't stop shaking my bunk with your shivers, you can sleep on the floor." His oh so humorous comment made you shiver even harder, and you mumbled a quiet "sorry", wrapping the blanket impossibly tighter around you.

Once again you tried falling asleep, willing the shivers to stop, only for them to return with even greater force than before.

You heard Ghost sigh from his mattress beneath you. The bed croaked and you sensed a shadow move in line with your eyes, over the edge of the bunk bed.

Ghost had gotten out of his blanket-cocoon and stood centimetres from your icy face.

"Did you not hear me before?", his hot breath fanned over your frozen features, warming you just enough to answer him in a full sentence.

"I did..sorry.. I just can't get warm." Your voice came out much weaker, than you had hoped for, and seemingly did nothing to stir empathy within Ghost. As if not accepting your weak apology, he pulled the blanket from your shivering form and quietly said "get down."

Puzzled, you unfolded your cold body in a sloth-like motion, slowly climbing down the bed. You stood in front of Ghost, not believing that he actually wanted you to sleep on the floor.

After all, you were the same rank, so he could not order you to do it. So you stood before him, shivering furiously, waiting for him to actually tell you to sleep on the hard, wooden floor, just so you could weakly scold him for trying to punish you.

He said nothing, sat down on his mattress and rolled in under his blanket, his back facing the wall. You stayed on your feet, absolutely confused beyond your mind.

You knew Ghost could act weird from time to time, but this was beyond the usual weirdness of him.

The moonlight from outside only cast enough light inside, for you to make out the outline of his body. Once he had settled, he opened the blanked towards you, which only sent a waft of cool air towards you. As you stayed on your sock-clad feet, still so, so confused, Ghost quietly told you "come 'ere. Can't 'ave you freezing like that."

And like a much faster sloth you slid into the oh so warm comfort of his strong arms and the thick blanket covering him. He wrapped his arms around you, making sure that the blanked covered every millimetre of you.

"Christ Viper, you're like an icicle." His hot breath fanned over your head as he pulled you into his warm embrace.

Your shivers slowly ebbed out, leaving you smushed up, face first, against Ghosts t-shirt covered chest, arms awkwardly tucked close to your own chest. You became embarrassingly aware of just how close you were to one another.

You tried to shimmy away from him, just a little bit; get a some space between the two of you. Keep it professional, you know. But a strong hand around your middle kept you close.

"Stay", Ghost whispered, hugging you closer again, wordlessly telling you that he didn't mind you being this close to him.

With the warmth seeping into your body, the words returned to your mouth in a quiet whisper, "I thought you wanted me to sleep on the floor."

A quick, exhale blew onto the top of your hair and his low voice sounded above your head, "I did" , followed by an even quieter whisper, "but then i remembered, that i like you."

Heat rose to your face, warming your cheeks. You knew Ghost tolerated you, maybe even enjoyed your company from time to time, he definitely liked looking at you, based on how often you felt his eyes on you.

But that he liked you. Oh boy.

"I didn't know you liked me", you whispered into his chest, raising your face to look up at his moonlit, masked one.

His eyes found yours in the dim light, "I do. 'ave for a long time."

Ghosts rough fingers slowly slid up along your spine, fingers gliding over the soft fabric of your shirt. His fingers reaching and curling around the, now warm, skin of you neck. You felt his thumb soothingly swipe back and forth on that very soft patch of skin on the side of your neck.

You hummed at his admission, melting into the touch of his fingers on your skin.

Not knowing how to respond verbally, you turned your palms from your own soft chest, to his much more muscular one, gently squeezing his muscles, to let him know his whispers were heard.

The warmth had truly settled inside you by now, and your eyelids grew heavy, threatening to block the view of Ghosts dark, moonlit eyes looking at your tired ones.

During a dangerously slow blink of your eyelids, Ghosts hand squeezed your neck; just enough to get your attention, but not hard enough for you to open your heavy lids in attention.

"Get some rest Viper. Sleep well." His whispers made a tired smile tug at your lips, and you responded with another whisper.

"Goodnight Ghost."

In front of your closed eyes, a satisfied smile grew behind Ghosts mask. His eyes glanced over your face, taking in the sight of your calm face: eyes closed, brows at ease, just a hint of a smile on your lips and deep, steady breaths blew quietly through your nostrils.

He almost couldn't believe that you were actually sleeping in his arms. He could almost not believe that he had had the courage to pull you close and be soft with you.

His troubling and traumatic past made him fear close relationships, afraid that the people close to him would get hurt. With you though, it was different. Ghost knew you could handle any challenge thrown at you, just like himself. He knew how strong and capable you were, and it pulled him closer to you. Made his heart skip a beat or two, when ever your mere presence filled the room with authority and control.

He had wanted to let you this close to him for a while the last many many weeks, but could never muster the bravery, and did not want to scare you away. To not make you think he was some creep, like other soldiers on base, he took it slow; showed you more and more of himself in adequate amounts.

Ever since your soft fingers had snaked around his arm that evening in the mess hall, he had wanted to reciprocate the comfort and affection, but an occasion had never come along.

Until now. And he was filled with glee, deep into the marrow of his bones.

Ghost held you a little tighter, feeling your body against his. He sucked in the warmth of your skin against his and sweet smell of your hair. His smile only growing larger and more giddy (not an emotion, Ghost was truly familiar with yet)

Gently, he brought his masked lips down on your forehead, giving you a feather light kiss.

"Sweet dreams little snake"

[mako-neexu]

all guda related stuff in mahoyo collab

summoning as a highly complicated magecraft -> highly intact sense of self, magical energy, magical crest, sheer willpower........you who is light and equally dark....

casual comments/banter to the people they trust

guda getting shocked of all things at a talking bird www

gudako -> young girl that likes to jog every morning

gudao -> brat that likes small time candy store sweets

UGH the further emphasis on Servants being familiars that no one - not anyone should just use (exceptional...)

stressing the role of a 'Master'

'I also make mistakes a lot'

"I still don't see what's so special about summoning."

guda screams during summons? lmao kind of reminds me of mash with lord camelot

the way guda just refers to other people as 'that another human' www (i know 'person' is more accurate but to me it sounds like an alien in disguise calling someone as 'fellow human' ww)

Of COURSE guda knows how to stop their own pulse

disbelief. perhaps gut feeling. guda's perception of death to others. (i guess in the face of unnatural they would doubt it. but considering Id chapter, it would depend on the person and how theyre closest to?)

'more like tobimaru' 'more like soujyuurou' getting angry on behalf of someone without letting it show as well... i Understand.

THE TOPIC OF AGING KILLS ME. WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ARE HESITANT????? dont yokuwakaranaina ME????

Don't face world-ending disasters alone

IM CRYING OH MY GOD IM NOT WELL "did you sleep well?" "i slept peacefully because the night was quiet and nice" AUGH GUDAAAAA😭

probably nothing of note but additional descriptor to guda is that they look like a college student as compared to previous descriptions of being 'high school student'.......

not being good at horror stories 🥹 reminds me of summer 5...

(unwell) i forget about guda's tactical prowess sometimes (lies) + guda's mention of the looking glass reminds me of berkercas valentines...

Subtle but gudao's reaction to beating down kashin is 'exhausted or relieved' meanwhile for dako she has the 'doubt' in her dialogue

subtle again but theres a hesitance to guda when asked about what the future looked like. but their second option is saying "eh there arent any flying cars anyways"

ahh okay now i know the crypto stuff guda said. its from gudao. is this MHX's influence lmao. gudao youre advertising crypto seriously? ww

guda casually joking about the times they astral project out of their body likes its nothing and mash is not normal either of course and treats it as regular occurrences. well, its regular but for a normal average person in the 21st century, it certainly isnt ww

GUDA ONCE AGAIN PROVING that despite being 'camera' for us players, they actively hide information and i am not over that fact. (knowing who the culprit is before most of the rest-)

guda not hesitating at ALL to rayshift back to 1999 where the end of the world was supposed to happen www

Ah!! To encourage kinomi in confessing, guda confessed their own out in the open!!!

A bakery with the one they love / A wish to reach the South Pole

You may not be able to have all of your dreams, your nights be peaceful, but I hope that you will still be rewarded at the end of your journey 😭

[thewitchofcedarandbone]

Notes from a witch who is a part-time caretaker of a rural graveyard:

Disclaimer: These are both mundane and magical personal observations and recommendations acquired from living directly beside, working part-time for, and working with the spirits of a rural graveyard.

If the grass is being cut regularly, the graveyard/cemetery is being looked after. Even if headstones are neglected and the decorations rarely change at the graves, someone is coming out regularly to check things out.

Even if you know for a fact a graveyard/cemetery is abandoned, it does not mean it's been entirely forgotten. You're probably not the first person to stumble upon it and probably won't be the last. Don't ruin it for others by desecrating graves or damaging the natural environment.

Be mindful of rules and be respectful of the cultural practices of the graveyard/cemetery. Some graveyards/cemeteries have regulations as to what can be left at a grave; either in general or during certain seasons, or they may have set visiting hours; often in an attempt to deter nocturnal mischief makers.

If you are ever questioned as to why you are there, be calm and courteous. You don't have to divulge your spiritual practice, but simply explaining that you're visiting out of an interest in history can more often than not put suspicious minds at ease. However, if you are explicitly asked to leave, by the living or the dead, do so. There is no sense in arguing and it may be for a good reason.

This may be personal preference or may depend on whether or not you have built up a connection with the graveyard/cemetery (spirit/guardian/etc), but when in doubt: come with protection.

Avoid leaning, standing or pushing on headstones. It is not uncommon for stones to topple, especially those with preexisting damage, those made out of softer material like limestone, or those simply not designed to take much force.

Sometimes stepping on a grave is inevitable. Politely apologize and carry on.

You can show respect and still laugh, joke, tell stories, etc. There's no rule saying you must keep the mood sombre.

If you will be doing any type of magical workings, ask permission and respect the answer. This goes especially for any workings done at a specific grave.

When finished, give your thanks and take all non-biodegradable tools/spell ingredients/offerings with you. You could even pick up trash as you leave, but be mindful of what may be a misplaced decoration or offering.

If you want to clean/repair headstones or cleanup the general area of the graveyard, do your research and go through the proper legal channels. Your intent may be good; but if you don't know what cleaners/tools to use or mistake a misplaced decoration as trash, you could unintentionally do more harm than good.

If you require grave dirt or other forageable matter, tread lightly. Only take what you need and opt to take from the perimeter over a specific grave*.

When you are finished with your workings and are ready to head home, say goodbye and leave the spirits at the gate. You can cleanse yourself and your tools once you've crossed the threshold or as soon as you've gotten home.

*Removing dirt from a grave is often viewed as immoral and depending on your location may even be illegal (desecration of a grave). <- I'm not mentioning this last bit as a scare tactic, just as a reminder that you never know how your actions will be interpreted by outside eyes.

As an alternative to grave dirt, consider this: The earth has been around for 4.5 billion years. In that time, many a thing has lived and died across its surface. Dirt is made of decaying and decomposed matter. So technically speaking, the entire planet is a series of unmarked lost graves, making all dirt grave dirt.

[corviiids]

ok wait im back for the kira game. bc i feel like its remiss to ask about goro and not ren. but also is it cheating if it's not just ren it's the phantom thieves as a whole

let's do the phantom thieves because i don't think ren has a chance on his own. sorry ren i love you but it's not gonna happen.

verdict: grudging maybe using the anime powers of friendship and being a protagonist and futaba's anime hackerman skills, but in my heart it's a no, at least not unscathed

could the phantom thieves intuit the mechanics of the death note

no. no normal person could intuit these mechanics. this answer 9 times out of 10 is gonna be a no, we've just been dealing with a lot of oustanding fictional detectives. makoto or futaba might notice that kira needs a name and a face. ren maybe, maybe, but it's not very likely given early game phantom thief (annrenryujimorgana) investigation tactics were literally completely useless running around fetchquesting scenes. ren sometimes has good ideas and is pretty insightful, but he makes more of an excellent watson, not a sherlock. this isn't really his forte. no one else is getting close. this isn't because i actually think makoto is a super smart detective type, it's just that the game always gives any deductive dialogue to her because the game has decided she's The Smart One and futaba is The Computer One and yusuke is The Art One etc etc etc, and smart at book means good at detective, and we honestly do not have time to go into all that bull shit.

once they ID light, further investigation into the metaverse + using futaba's skills might get them closer, but they wouldn't figure this out on their own.

could the phantom thieves identify light yagami

yes, but im saying this grudgingly. the phantom thieves' method of investigation drives me crazy. they identify madarame by breaking into his house, they (makoto) identify kaneshiro by demanding random thugs drive them to kaneshiro's house, they identify futaba by breaking into her house, they. hm

what im saying is they're gonna find light by getting very vaguely suspicious of him and then checking the metanav for his name. after they've got his name they'll be like a dog with a bone.

i think futaba would be able to use Fictional Hacker Abilities (where anything with a computer is possible) to work out that kira's been accessing the police databases and makoto/MAYBE ren might be able to work out from there that he's connected to the police. that might point them to light. once they get his name, they'll be able to question him in the metaverse to get the info about the death note mechanics.

could they survive (/ could they win)

im bundling these because both will depend on whether the pt are smart about this. if they do literally anything to tip light off (like breaking into his house) then they're all gonna die. also, to flip things a bit, if light works out that they're the phantom thieves, they are also gonna die, because as soon as they leave him a calling card he's gonna write their names. so it's all going to depend on whether they can change his heart before he becomes suspicious of them. if they manage to infiltrate his palace before he tries to kill them, they should make sure they're in the palace and lying in wait to grab the treasure before they leave the calling card. that way as soon as light reads the card they can get in and get out instead of giving light an entire battle's worth of time to write all their names down. but seeing as they literally never do that i do not think this is going to occur to them

to be honest. i think at least some of the phantom thieves are gonna die. they lack subtlety to a fatal degree. it is not difficult to figure out who they are. light has really any number of ways to work this out. manipulate and kill one of ren's confidants, utilise police contacts to see if there's a list of suspects, literally be in shibuya while the pt are at their 'hideout' (random walkway). i think at least some of them are gonna die unless they make up a really extremely stupid counter-gambit which works because of anime. can you tell im still bitter about some of the stupid shit that happens in this game

so yes i think they could change light's heart but i think at least a couple of thieves are gonna die about it

[maythevoidnotscreamback]

HeadCanon: Why the Star Locket was Important in more ways than claimed

Kinda-sorta reposting this from discord. I'm of the opinion that the Star Locket/Watch Ren gave Dymi in the SilMil was more important in canon than previously thought because of the status of the Shitennou.

The Shitennou.

The men who were Dymi's Guardians and watched him grow up for most of his life, if not from birth, just as the Inners were Ren's. Or at least, that's the HC. Why the hell would they betray their Liege, or even want to fight against, the man whom they've supposed to have loyally dedicated their lives to for Beryl's doctrine of killing those of the Silver Alliance? How could they have succumbed to Beryl's/Metallia's brainwashing or mental gaslighting/coercion if they loved him (Or their Senshi Lovers) in truth? Because I absolutely refuse to believe they didn't, that it might've all been an act. To have such positions, especially with the GC and Elysian's Head Priest in play, couldn't have worked if they were against their own Liege-to-be from the start, or that their positions were given or "earned" due to political or other such reasons; leaving them with the mentality of 'for their lands' greater good over the others' when it would've been best to have those who wanted everyone to live prosperous lives. They could've been corrupted later though, as evidenced.

In regards to Sen/Shi, because there are some people who don't like such 'forced' pairings for some reason, even though that's how they were originally paired by Naoko before the idiots who were in charge of the anime changed it (most likely without her permission or asking for insider knowledge! It might've been a whole new ballpark otherwise.) one could say that Beryl's plans included the Senshi being caught off guard or other such spy/espionage/psychological warfare tactics. That, depending on how fast Beryl/Metallia worked once Ren came into the pic, unless she'd already been working on them before Ren appeared and started 'ruining her plans', it wouldn't be too strange if that was one of the reasons Sen/Shi came about in the first place. But then, there's the Senshi themselves. I highly doubt that any of them (One's power being Love of all things, another suppressing her emotions as much as possible in favor of logical thinking, the third being able to sense Evil and Dark Intentions and the last being protective and stubborn for it; though one could say she'd be the 'easiest' as a result) could've been fooled by smoke and mirrors and lies. So, no, I'm of the firm opinion that they were fully corrupted/brainwashed after they'd fallen for their Lady Loves. And that's if those who fought against them weren't clones or coincidental look-a-likes as a certain HC going around says might've actually happened.

I rec Jecir over on FFN to get a taste of how such a HC goes; there's four in the series with a technical fifth that's an AU role reversal.

All that aside, I believe the reason why Dymi/Mamo was spared; at least until a certain point is 'obvious'. And, no, it's not due to the Kinzuishou because he'd have never been able to be brainwashed later if that was the case. Even despite its dormancy.

It's the Locket/Watch.

Like, think about it people!

The reason Dymi wasn't affected by Beryl/Metallia isn't because he was the Crystal Holder or the Heir to the Planet's Throne (his parents, if alive, shouldn't have been affected if that was true; at least, not the parent who would pass said throne to him as their blood legacy) but is because of the Star Locket given to him by Ren! It kept him from being corrupted or brainwashed while his Shitennou and people and whatever living family he had was. And when he was Mamo, since he had it for as long as he could remember, it kept him from being found and brainwashed as his Shitennou were again. Like, do you really think Beryl hadn't already been looking as frantically as possible to find him before Ren did and 'put him under her spell'? Especially when the moment she realized who Zoi was fighting she called him off. Killed him when TK was brought to her injured because of Zoi attempting to kill SM and TK saving her. She probably only stopped looking in the first because she was of the opinion the Boys, being four instead of her alone and able to leave and cover more ground, would've recognized him while energy gathering. And it was Usa who had it when he was taken and brainwashed. Not to mention, the whole... Thing where it was due to said Locket, despite the Wand failing even though it had worked before, that he was able to return to his true self during the Season Finale!

If anything, it's because of the Locket that Dymi was able to take over and transform them in the first place. It anchored him, like Moon's brooch. At least until Mamo became aware he was TK with the Nijizuishou he got hold of and the duality became sorta one person. Because TK still couldn't say why he came into existence just because SM specifically was in danger.

Anyway! I'm of the HC that the Locket, since she was of the Moon and the SilMil as a generality seemed more of a Matriarchy than Earth, was meant to be a proposal item in place of Earth's Ring and she asked while giving it to him with mandatory Blessings of Protection and Clarity of Mind. But while Dymi might've been all sorts of happy and touched that he was the one being proposed to, he might've been embarrassed too. 'The women were allowed to do that?!' type of mentality. And with that, after having explained to his Lady-Love why he was embarrassed despite accepting her suit, leaving her embarrassed in turn, maybe even mortified, for having assumed his marriage traditions were the same as what she grew up with, they each could've gone to their respective Guardian groups and explained the 'ruined' but still accepted proposal.

"On Earth, only the men are allowed to propose?!", is the shock for the Senshi. Because Ren, not only heiress to a smaller home-world with a smaller population, but also heiress to a vaster alliance kingdom and would-be leader of other leaders, would've been considered of higher status if not rank; that's why she proposed without thought to what might be different on Earth. "For members of the Silver Alliance, the one with higher rank or status is supposed to propose?!" is the shock for the Shitennou. Because being Shitennou was a title, so even though they're called Kings, they weren't by blood and with the Senshi being blood-born Princesses of their respective Planet and thus of actual higher status and rank... well, misunderstandings abound due to wanting to respect one another's marriage traditions.

Like, the different Planets of the Alliance might have different expectations or practices or activities to the others that might not jive well with each other so some things had to be finagled so it'd work for any interplanetary relations. I.E: something most cherished that can be worn or kept on ones' person is given by the proposer while the proposed reciprocates with something meaningful, it doesn't have to be cherished, which can be bought or already in their possession, that can be worn or kept on their person in turn. Just as an example.

So! There the Shitennou are wondering what the 'thing most cherished' will be to accept from their Lady Senshi (because they'd consider themselves as guests of the Alliance, if not their own form of Ambassadors, who'd be giddy to experience how things, proposal most especially, was done off Earth) and trying to think of what to give in turn (I thought V would give her hair ribbon so he could use it as a cravat or tie or whatever and she'd give a hint of maybe getting one back that matches his hair color. J would give her earrings, once enlarged by magic, to be used as cuff-links or her rose belt to let him use for himself, not sure what she'd expect back or what the other two would propose with). And all the while the Senshi are wondering when they'll be given a ring (because it'd be rude to make the new member of the Alliance conform to their standards and rules so soon after joining) and wondering what it'll look like or how the proposal itself might go.

As such, while Dymi has the Locket from his Love to protect him from Beryl and Metallia, to which followed him into his next life (however it did that) to continue its purpose before he unintentionally lost it because he let SM keep it since he didn't remember its significance when she attempted to return it, his own protectors didn't have any such protection of their own from their Loves because misunderstandings, assumptions, dream-like expectations and non-communication kept them from being received.

How that for a HC? What do you think of it? Does it make sense?

[meekoftheweek]

**SPOILER WARNING FOR "SLAY THE PRINCESS"**

I know I said in my post from earlier that I didn't want to put anything out there that might be spoilers but I'm going more in depth because I can't just let these thoughts go away

the thing that resonated with me about this game and its characters and themes was the portrayal of gender roles and the way that they manifest in heterosexual relationships

now, I know that seems like weird connection to make and a bit out of left field but let me explain

we can start with a quick summary

you play as "The Long Quiet", who is told by his inner consciousness to seek out a princess, who we eventually discover is "The Shifting Mound"

Now, we have a man being told his only purpose has to come through a woman by his inner conscience, a predisposed expectation thrust upon our main character. Even worse, when attempting to leave this incredibly confined chain of events, the world collapses, unable to function without this key part of his destiny.

If we look at just the names of our two main characters, we can see that they fit nicely into the old fashioned problematic gender roles of men and women in a heterosexual relationship.

"The Long Quiet" never speaks a word throughout the game, his only form of communication is text based or inner monologue and although this may just be a tactic by the developers to make him more relatable to a wider audience I have trouble seeing this as non deliberate.

Although great progress has been made, men still struggle with talking openly and honestly about their feelings, dealing with the inner conflict of trying to tough things out and deal with their problems on their own and with their own experiences and wisdom instead of speaking up and asking for help. This is why the voices are such an important part of the story, they each represent a branch of possible advice for Quiet, a different perspective - commenting on what should happen next.

It is only through the use of the mirror that these inner voices dissapate, leaving us room to think about ourselves and the decisions we have made free of expectation and worry. It shows our true self and the consequences of our action, no good or bad biases.

Next, we get to "The Shifting Mound" dummed down and objectified as simply "The Princess" - already indicitve of the themes of pre assigned gender roles and ideas. We, as Quiet, in our very first run are encouraged to make a choice - kill or save the princess. It is through following the path of blind devotion and saving her without a second thought that we arrive at the path of The Smitten, a new voice that emerges within us that wants nothing more than to blindly love the princess for all of eternity. This kind of unhealthy attachment is directly addressed by the other voices and when we interact with the princess, she is shown to both physically and mentally simplify before our very eyes. In the mind of The Smitten, the princess is nothing more than a cardboard cutout, a vaugely womanly shaped being without an ounce of depth or meaning, and this is exactly what she becomes, through the conversation with her, she slowly begins to lose all of her meaning, loudly proclaiming after every question you ask that all she wants to do is make you happy - this eventually reaches a breaking point in which this is all she can say. becoming truly emotionless and void of any possible sign of humanity in order to fill our selfish idea of love.

this ties into her name and her role in the game - she's labelled as "The Shifting Mound" and depending on our choices - In another word "us", she will change her form and personailty in order to fit our expectations. This ties into the problematic old fashioned expectations of women to change themselves to fit the wants and needs of men, which cruelly removes them of the ability to genuinely express and be themselves. It is only through repeatedly exploring the different versions and facets of the princess that we eventually learn to truly love her, all of these parts must be accepted - the key to a healthy relationship being a mutual acceptance and understanding of both people involved - free of the societal expectations that bind the way we think and percieve one another.

this is why this game resonated so much with me. these beautiful themes of being more than your label and breaking free from the monotonous loop of holding yourself back in the case of Quiet or changing yourself in the case of Mound for the sake of your significant other I feel is a really important and valuable message, no mattter who you are.

anyway rant aside go play this game it's really good!

[alienwithabox]

1, 5, 12, 18, 39, 76, 77 for the fic asks! (I warned ya! 😉😁)

Thank you Kate!! These questions come from here and I'd be happy if other people asked more!

1) Do you daydream a lot before you write, or go for it as soon as the ideas strike?

For the last decade, nearly all of my fics have existed solely within my mind. To say I daydream a lot is an understatement. I've had some sort of maladaptive daydreaming disorder since I was quite young. On the upside, it generates a lot of ideas and scenes. On the downside, it's called "maladaptive" for a reason. Everything I write was initially drafted by my nightly pacings. I've only just now gotten into writing these ideas out again.

5) How many wips do you have? What fandoms/pairings are they for?

Okay so, counting only the written WIPs, I have one. It's a canon-compliant m/m Lost fic centred on an OC who was on Oceanic Flight 815 and his relationship with Ben Linus. It's still in its infancy but coming along nicely.

I have a few more things hovering around in my head.

Two for Person of Interest:

- Harold Finch x Trans Man OC. Harold's first real love re-enters his life (*side-eyes Machine*) and he can't find it in him to walk away, no matter how much he wants to in order to keep OC safe. Harold still loves Grace, it's just a case of this being the person he was supposed to be with.

- Canon-compliant Gen fic. Harold suddenly has custody of his now-teenage kid who is as much of a menace as Harold was in his youth. In the battle of nature vs nurture, nature won in a big way.

Two for Evil:

- Leland Townsend x Trans Man OC. Once long-time friend (and quiet admirer) of "Jacob Perry" remeets him, both having taken on new forms of themselves. There's redemption arc elements for Leland, based off the shreds of good that got revealed in S4. His usual corrupting tactics don't work on OC so he performs some of his former self's traits in order to draw OC in. This ends up emotionally wrecking him as he realises that OC loves the man he used to be, not his current self.

- Leland Townsend x Male OC. In juxtaposition to the above concept, this one is two morally dubious gays being morally dubious and gay. They manage to bring out both the worst and the best in each other; perfectly balanced as all things should be.

12) Do you outline your fics? If yes, how detailed are your outlines? How far do you stray from them?

I most definitely do outline my fics! Structure is an important part of my life as someone who struggles with executive dysfunction. Checklists, alarms, itemised lists, and itineraries are my lifeline. When I don't plan ahead and set realistic goals and timelines, I tend to lose focus, waste my time, and stress myself out so much that I accomplish less or nothing at all.

How detailed my fic outlines are depend on if I'm following a canon timeline of events or creating my own direction. When I go canon, I tend to go ham for the authenticity. For my Lost fic, for instance, I made a day-by-day timeline of the events of the show as a reference. It mainly focuses on what the MC is witnessing but sometimes mentions "off-screen" big events that I as the writer need to remember happen on that day. Some days have much shorter entries than others. It helps me orient the MC within the world; I want him to be able to refer to and be impacted by past events in a realistic way.

Something I've recently discovered doing that I think I'm gonna stick with from now on is little chapter notes. Each chapter has a Plot note with a few sentences covering the general events of the chapter and how many "page break" sections it'll have, a POV note to denote what character we're following in each section, a Relationship note to track the current emotions of the main couple (especially towards each other), and a Characters note to track the relationships the MC has with other characters. It might sound too rigid to some people but it helps me get the pacing of each chapter right and make sure I'm shifting character emotions in a way that makes sense.

18) Do you enjoy research? Which fic of yours required the most research?

I'm one of those people who will find out the rules of the world the story is set in an strictly adhere to them. Sure there can be a magical Island, a corporate organisation of 60 demonic houses, or a sentient A.I. that was built by one man...but these things also exist in an otherwise present day reality so you can bet your ass I'm gonna look up how long it takes to obtain a specific degree or job certification, what schools exist in this area, which train goes to what stations, and other extremely trivial yet grounding real world details.

The most research I ever did for a fic was for a character profile I made of a BBC Musketeers OC. I went full historically accurate and spent 14 hours straight writing what ended up being something like 10 pages on a character I never ended up doing anything with. She must've possessed me.

39) What’s your most self-indulgent wip?

All of my writing is self-indulgent. I have always written to express my own emotions, escape from my own life, and bring myself joy and catharsis. I only ever published things online because I figured one or two people might derive a bit of joy out of it. As I said earlier, every fic idea I have stems from daydreams, which means that all my OCs are, to some degree, self-inserts. I'm at peace with that, though, as so much of my lived experience includes things I want to see represented: gay men, trans men, neurodivergency, speech issues, physical disabilities, chronic pain, mental health issues, volatile family relationships.

My most self-indulgent is probably the one where Harold has a kid. All my OCs resemble different parts of me but this one is my catharsis fic, the one where I heal my inner child. This kid is gay, trans, autistic, hearing impaired, walks with a cane due to a hip and lower back injury, and had an abusive mother. He is respected, loved, protected, and prioritised by Harold. Despite his physical and mental conditions, the rest of Team Machine don't underestimate his capabilities; Harold does though because it's basically his job to think his child is made of glass. He's a tech whiz like his dad, a practiced liar, is pretty good at using his cane as a melee weapon, and gets to hear the Machine's God Mode communication through his hearing aids. Making the Machine conversing with hearing impaired people a theme was too good to pass up.

76) How do you deal with writing pressure, whether internal or external?

I don't receive any external pressure, thank goodness, but I guess the closest thing to internal pressure I feel is the deeply seeded doubts I have about my ability to write linear stories. My 9th grade English teacher really tore the soul out of every writer in our class and restricted our creative writing so much that I basically stopped writing. It's a whole long, upsetting story that I won't get into but the gist is that I'm still unpacking that damage and fighting against the urge to give up.

77) Why do you enjoy writing fanfiction?

I pretty much covered this above in the self-indulgent question. To reiterate, it's an outlet for my imagination, my emotions, and my need for escape.

[kufothewriting]

So, You Took Away Your MC's Powers

So, you took away your protagonist’s powers.

First of all, congratulations. Really. 

If you’ve gotten to the point of permanently depowering your story's central figure, it more than likely means you've reached or are approaching the end of your story and deliberately chose that specific option as the best way to wrap up an important conflict or plot point.

So let's talk about it.

Your protagonist, through some turn of fate, lost their power. 

An enchanted item, a bloodline trait, an inherited power—whatever it was that made the protagonist special or incredible or uniquely able to complete the plot has now gone away. Whether it was a deliberate decision made in the interests of the greater good or an unfortunate consequence of a dangerous decision that backfired or had unforeseen consequences, the result remains that the protagonist is no longer special. At least, not in the way that they were before.

As someone who’s been online a lot longer than he should, I can say first and foremost that it seems that there’s a lot of ill-will for this trope. Some people seem more than willing to scream from the rooftops that it’s bad writing and makes for a poor ending and that anyone willing to depower their character is in the same realm of cruelty as people who call online strangers slurs and then say they're joking when they get flak for it.

Is that true?

I’d personally disagree. It’s hardly that simple. In my opinion, few tropes are just bad or good, cut and dry. Stories are complicated, endings are tough, and when trying to decide how to wrap your narrative, sometimes it can be a difficult task to defeat the villain or solve the overarching conflict without having your hero take desperate measures. 

The depowering of a character can come in many different flavors, depending on the medium. For more battle-focused stories (cough cough shonen), a hero can lose their powers to an enemy’s tactic or in service of defeating a villain far too physically overwhelming for them to overcome by ordinary means. 

In some narratives, the protagonist’s power could be the cast’s power, and it might be the case that this power or its source is actually a major contributing factor to the reason behind the story's driving conflict. 

In that case, it would seem strange to solve the plot without directly addressing the core issue. If the power itself is the problem endangering our heroes’ way of life, then it stands to reason that taking out the problem would solve the issue in a neat little wrap, no ifs, ands, or buts.

So what’s the issue? Why do so many people seem to hate this ending?

Well, keep in mind this is all conjecture. But let’s start with a premise.

People consume fiction for a variety of reasons. Personally, I’ve been enamored with the creation of worlds, characters, ideas, and belief systems for as long as I can remember. Consuming fiction is something I doubt I could ever give up, and consuming fantasy is something you couldn’t pay me to. A protagonist with the ability to summon light or fire from their hands or transform into a dragon is just a certain type of wish-fulfillment alternate-reality hijinks that tickles my brain just the right way, you know?

Seeing a super-powered protagonist navigate through an unfamiliar world full of strange and incredible abilities is gratifying in a way that’s difficult to describe. I keep finding myself returning to these stories time and again. 

It’s not something based on age or maturity, but some inherent curiosity inside that asks, what if the world was like this? What if people were like this? What would it look like if these kinds of people, with these different abilities and emotions and ambitions, shared the same space? How would it change them, and how would it change the world around them? 

Even if you don't consider something like that fun to think about, I at least think that it’s interesting to lose yourself in the fantasy of a world so different from our own, where people are incredible in a way that feels so utterly divorced from our reality. At least, that’s my viewpoint. Whether or not you consider that escapist or not is up to you.

But when it comes to stories that have the protagonist lose their power in the end, there comes a sudden, staunch divorce from our immersion. The story that previously said, "Hey, look at this cool person and the cool thing they can do!" at its beginning turned around at the end and said, "Actually, this cool person and this cool thing they can do? We won't be having that anymore."

A gross oversimplification, but you probably get my point. Depowering a protagonist as the solution to the plot can feel deeply jarring, especially if that power or its source is something deeply connected to the protagonist’s character or something that in some way saved them, whether salvation was from a mundane life or a brutal murder in some backstreet alleyway.

Losing what makes you special can feel deeply hurtful, like a betrayal of trust. By no means is it a negative trope wholesale—I personally feel that the depowering of a character, though often unsatisfying, can be a good way to wrap up a narrative conflict or story arc previously infused with escalating stakes perpetuated from increasingly arcana or overwhelming abilities that most characters likely can’t realistically match with conventional means.

Still, for a lot of stories, a protagonist left depowered in the wake of a major event while all their allies and friends and even remaining enemies get to retain their abilities feels a bit like a gut punch. All they did for the world and for others, and in the end, they lost the thing that made them special. Regardless of how they feel about it, whether they hated their power or cherished it, unless the protagonist truly suffered as a result of their ability, it can feel like a sad thing to see them let it go. 

Depowering a protagonist isn’t a bad writing decision, but I feel like at its best it runs clearly into the bittersweet territory. Despite its narrative credence, it can feel unsatisfying, and for many, an ending with a character resolution (especially a protagonist's character resolution) that feels unsatisfying might as well be a bad ending. 

If a viewer walks away from a story thinking, "That shouldn’t have happened," it can be tough to woo them over with arguments of foreshadowing or sacrifice or skillful full-circle narratives the author established by going that direction. It’s tough both for creator and consumer, and I think that’s part of why the “depowered protagonist” ending is a bit of a sore spot for many people (And that’s not even getting into the gender dynamics of the “depowered” trope usually affecting more powerful, plot-relevant women than men).

It’s an interesting trope. I don’t think it’s bad at all—in its best form, I think an ending that depowers a protagonist in service of solving the major plot problem says that, yes, this new reality may not be ideal, but it was one that they reached after fighting and clawing and bleeding to make it through. It was an outcome born of struggle and perseverance and potentially, loss, but in the end, had they not done what they did, the world would be all the worse for it.

In stories where the protagonist loses their powers, the result that arises from that power loss is typically one that’s leagues better than what would occurred without it. And, in a way, that’s emblematic of real life. To create something, you have to give something up. To build a bond with someone, you have to give up time. To create an item, you have to give up materials. 

And to protect the things you care about? Well, you might have to give up what makes you special.

[duhragonball]

Chainsaw Man ch. 48-52

Gosh, I wish that was me.

Last time, Chainsaw Man got suckered in by a cute girl named Reze, who turned out to be some sort of assassin with explosion powers. Now they're fighting it out, but Denji's usual strategy of "hit them with chainsaws" is kind of ineffective against someone who can repeatedly self-destruct and regenerate.

Parts of Reze's transformed body look like a mass of cables, maybe primacord. One of her fingers gets cut off and it's still stuck on Denji's chainsaw after their next exchange, and she uses it like a bomb. I'm not clear on how her powers work exactly, but she seems to be able to remove any part of her body and use it like a bomb, or just blow it up while it's still attached. Also, she seemed to have a duplicate body she used as a decoy, so good luck explaining that one.

The point here is that the explosions are just the beginning. Reze knows how to use her abilities in a very tactical way. One might assume that she tried to seduce Denji because she was too weak to challenge him directly, but we see here that this was never the case. She just wanted to try a subtle approach, but that was never the only option.

But fighting Denji in the open means you also have to deal with his comrades in Public Safety. Aki lops off one of her hands just when it seems like she's beaten Denji, and then she has to fight him for a while. Recall that Aki has a new power courtesy of Future Devil, which gives him a slight insight into the future. This allows him to anticipate his opponent's actions, although he doesn't mean he'll necessarily be quick enough to do anything about it. Still, it's enough to keep him alive while he duels with Reze, at least until...

Violence Fiend shows up to pull him out of harm's way. Violence Fiend tried to fight Reze earlier, but he got overwhelmed and ran away. I'm seeing this a lot with the Public Safety guys. They'll sometimes just turn tail and run, then come back when you least expect it and actually do something useful. Is that cowardly? I guess it depends on how you look at it, but if Violence had stood his ground earlier, he proabably would have gotten killed, and Aki would have died later on with no one to rescue him. These guys pick their spots. They're hunters, not warriors, so it's kind of ridiculous to expect them to stand and fight their prey when they're at a disadvantage.

Anyway, the key thing here is that Aki says this is the first time he ever wanted to be friends with a devil. So at long last, he's beginning to come around to the things Himeno wanted him to understand. Aki's grief, his craving for vengeance, and his absolute disdain for devils was working against his ability to fight and survive in this line of work. Now, as the story picks up steam and the battles become more desperate, he's learning to be more flexible about his attitudes.

Violence might have been enough to turn the tide here, except Reze has her own backup in the form of Typhoon Devil, who was also after Denji but they seemed to be working independently of each other. They crossed paths back in Chapter 43, and it was all awkward becuase they got in each other's way, and Reze told Typhoon to obey her for a while to make it up to her. So now she's calling him in.

I... feel like I should have more to say about Typhoon Devil being a pile of viscera with baby legs and a baby head with an exposed brain sticking out of its broken cranium, but... I kind of don't care? I don't know if I'm just desensitized at this point, or maybe the design really isn't that big a deal, but I feel like it should be.

Anway, Denji recovers once Beam and Angel feed him more blood. Notably, Angel Devil uses blood from a fatally wounded civilian, and he mercy-kills the lady before taking her corpse to Denji. That's important because Aki asked him to do something similar earlier in this arc, and Angel refused, more out of apathy than defiance.

Angel suggests that Chainsaw needs to step up his game, and asks Beam to tell them everything he knows about Chainsaw, since he seems to know him better than he lets on. Beam mentions that he used to use his chains to get around. I'm not sure what this is referring to, because it's like he's talking about the Chainsaw Devil before Denji got this power, and... well, that's just Pochita, right?

I think the implication here is that Pochita used to be a much more fearsome creature before he met Denji, and Beam might be the only one who remembers this. Anyway, I think it's pretty clear that he was talking about Denji swinging around and using his chains like Spider-Man webbing, but Denji's an idiot so he puts the chain in Beam's mouth and rides him through the air like a horse.

But it does look pretty awesome, so maybe he's got the right idea, I dunno. Denji doesn't tell me how to do my job, so I shouldn't tell him how to do his.

During all of this, Typhoon Devil produces a storm, and Angel Devil is nearly carried away by the high winds. Aki catches him, but can barely hold on, and Angel's like "Just let me go, I sort of want to die anyway, it's cool."

But Aki refuses to give up, so he grabs Angel by the hand, which is a really bad idea, because Angel's touch will automatically drain a human's life span. That brief contact alone took two months off the time Aki has left, but it was the only way to save Angel. Angel asks him why, and Aki tells him that he's seen too many people die already, and if Angel really does have a death wish, then he should make sure to die while Aki's not around to stop it.

Okay! Right there, Aki finally started to turn this around. He's actually having a character moment with Angel, and growing as a person. He's matured, but more importantly, he's rubbed off on Angel a little. Angel's actually cooperating without Aki around to force him to, and Angel actually seems to care about other people around him. That's because of Aki.

And this is a good thing. I'm still not very high on Aki right now, but at least he's finally reached a threshold where he feels like more than just a bystander. His personality is still "I don't want people to die" and "I want revenge on the bad guy", which is pretty flat, but at least he's having an impact on the plot now.

Back to Chainsaw Man, the reason this storm kicked up is because Typhoon's trying to defend himself (and Reze) from Denji. Earlier, Denji managed to cut off one of Reze's legs, and Typhoon spit some of his blood at her to help her recover, but now Typhoon's on his own while he waits for her to heal. The thing is, Typhoon's so big, and Beam is so agile in the air that Denji can hit him with ease.

So Typhoon goes down, and then Reze divekicks Beam to take him out of the fight, so we're back to Reze vs. Denji. Only this time, Denji's figured something out. When she blows up one of his arms...

... he shoots out chains from his stumps, and attacks her that way.

He tangles her up and wraps them both together, then falls off whatever they're standing on and they fall into the ocean. Apparently Reze can't detonate underwater, although I'm not sure how Denji would know that.

And then, Reze wakes up on the beach. Since Beam is there too, I guess he pulled them both up to the surface. Reze is surprised that Denji didn't kill her, but he explains that he would have regretted it, so he spared her.

He thinks there's still something between them, even though she keeps insisting that she was faking it the whole time. But if she was so determined to kill him, why didn't she finish him off at the school when she had the chance?

Denji still can't quite believe there was nothing between them, so she briefly feigns affection again, then breaks his neck to incapacitate him. Denji can recover from this, but he can't move until he does. Anyway, he tells Reze he'll see her at the cafe today at noon.

Except she doesn't show up. I'm not sure why he thought she would. I guess it's just wishful thinking? Someone does arrive, though...

And it's Power, returning to duty after her blood-draining procedure. She's back, and she tracked Denji down by his scent. When she sees the flowers, she tries to take them for herself. It's not clear that she plans to eat the flowers, but that's what Denji does, so I just assumed she had the same idea.

So what did happen to Reze? Well, she tries to flee to... somewhere? Maybe she's headed back to that cafe to try to take one more crack at Denji? All that matters is that a bunch of rats follow her into an alley and they form a big rat pile which becomes...

Makima? So she has rat power? Whatever.

I should explain this thing she says about the country mouse. You know the Aesop's Fable about the town and country mice, and each of them envies the other's lifestyle until they try to live there and find out it's not so great. In this arc, Reze brings it up to Denji, and Angel talks about it in a separate scene. It... kind of went over my head, but the characters seem to agree that being a Town Mouse is like being in the Public Safety scene, and being a Country Mouse is like living a more tranquil, normal life as a civilian. Denji is team Town because he likes the excitement, while Angel is Team Country because he hates working for Public Safety. Reze said she was Team Country, but I think that was just to convince Denji to run away with her so she could murder him.

Anyway, Makima apparently heard their conversation, as indicated by her line that she agrees with Reze about Country Mice. But Makima likes it because she has a friend on a farm, and every fall she goes down to help him exterminate all the mice in the field before winter sets in. This involves digging holes to get them out of their burrows so the dogs can chase them down. Makima finds this "calming".

The point I think she's making is that the country life isn't all that different from the work she does in Public Safety, sending her "dogs" to find and kill "mice" like Reze.

Reze tries to fight Makima, but she didn't count on Angel Devil throwing spears down at her from the roof. I guess Reze might be kept alive after this, but this whole scene reads like an execution. Reze took her shot and missed, and now Makima is eliminating her before she can try again. That's a shame, because I really enjoyed Reze's whole run here, and I'd be down for more of the same.

Anway, Makima originally ordered Angel and Aki to be here together, but Angel came alone, and Makima realizes that Angel didn't want Aki to be involved with killing a girl like this. Makima praises Angel's kindness, and yeah, some genuine character development here thanks to Aki. Nice stuff.

That last shot of the mouse kind of bugs me, because I think the town mouse/country mouse was meant to be deeper than I'm able to understand. The thing is, the fable was never about which side you'd prefer. The point of the story is that you tend to take your own circumstances for granted, and assume that some other guy with a different way of life has it better. And then you step into that way of life and realize it's not all it's cracked up to be. You're going to have problems no matter where you go, because in the end you're still a mouse.

Although, the mice and rats in this story have it pretty good when you think about it. The devils in this story are only after humans and human blood. Sure, Power ate a bear, and she's probably not the only one to go after animals, but who'd waste time picking on mice? How much blood can they have? No, the mice will go on no matter how this plays out. Makima can exterminate them in her friend's farm, but they come back every year, and the mice in Tokyo aren't going away anytime soon. They'll be around long after the devils and hunters are all dead.

[ofbreathandflame-archive]

“feyre is making the sister that she deemed was so mentally ill that she could not support herself then complete the tasks of a high lady? like how are justifying that? you can't say "this person has a debilitating addiction, therefore, she needs to be locked into a home, escorted, and policed" and then argue that this is the same person who should complete tasks that should be the high lady's job.”

THIS PART 👏🏼

hi anon!!!

right - either way the intervention fails. you could make the argument that it functions as a parallel to a mental health facility or rehab-- but then, that doesn't justify the the inner circle's constant dependence on nesta when it comes to court duties, or their inability to pay for said duties. it also doesn't justify the use of magic against nesta, the demolishing of nesta's building, and the decision to lock nesta into a home with the man she has consistently said she wants nothing to do with.

we could argue that nesta deserves it, and the the inner circle has every right to "punish" nesta as they see fit -- but then we are acknowledging that the intervention fuctions as revenge, and that completely undermines any moral justification. because then we are admitting that interventions only productive value is shame, humiliation and control.

we could argue that feyre's "good interntions" trumps the abusive nature of the intervention -- but then we would just be validating tamlin's abuse or just abuse in general. it also doesn't justify the abuse feyre just passively allows to happen in her face (i.e. rhys threatening nesta, rhysand using magic to scare nesta into submission).

the intervention, the house of wind, the court stuff -- none it can really be adequately justified. not even by the standards established in the story.

its just abusive - and feyre, rhys and the entirety of the inner circle are the abusers in this scenario. simple as that. its like - its always 'high lady feyre this' but when she has to actually be held responsible for her strategy and tactics then she's "just a 19 year old girl." if we're arguing she's logical enough to run an entire court, then we should be regarding as an actual nuanced character. we cannot empower feyre when its cute and then reduce her down to uwuuu victim when she is wrong. very weird behavior is you ask me.

feyre didn't have to vote; she could told nesta straight up about her swords - she IS THE HIGH LADY, HER WORD IS LAW. that is the difference between feyre's decision to withold that information from nesta, and nesta's decision to withold the pregnancy from feyre. feyre is the one who orchestrated the lock up of her sister - she is the one who forced the training. she is the authoritative voice. she does not suggest the imprisonment or the training - she mandates it as high lady of the night court. she is the one saying her sister is too ill to function in the world.