#everyone is just written so well and so in character

[backtothefanfiction]

Reading this just made me feel more proud of my writing abilities and reminded me of some of my favourite sex scenes I have ever written and it has really made me want to highlight them for you and why I love them so much.

Each one of these scenes is so completely different from one another, showing the true depths of the characters within them as they use these acts of intimacy to really help develop and flesh out who the characters are both as individuals and as partners. Each scene has a different need to be fulfilled and emotions to be shared and I am so incredibly proud of each one of them.

Angel In The Garden of Evil Chapter 19: Wash It Away

A mob!au Peter Parker Story

The intimacy of this scene coming as a conclusion for all the characters have been through not just during the story as you the reader reads it but also all the history they have together. It’s oddly sweet and tender as he takes the time to carry her into the house, to wash her in the shower and show her how much she really means to him. To literally wash away the old before they make love and bring in the new. It’s almost a whole cycle of life, death and rebirth moment. It’s the deep longing connection of husband and wife and how some loves just endure despite their tribulations.

Make Me Forget

Amazing Spider-Man Peter Parker x Harry Osborn Imagine (part two of crushed)

Running to the one person you shouldn’t to make the hurt go away. Asking your now ex boyfriends best friend to take you as his own after he rescued you from your abuser and asking them to claim you as their own and show you how to be treated right. To kiss away every hurt. To rewrite every touch on your body. It’s both painful and yet beautiful and hopeful and healing.

Nothing Ever Good Happens After 2am

A Joel Miller Story (Part 3 of the Insecure Series)

This is hate fucking at its finest. There’s so much tension and history and anger for both the past and present. Although so familiar with one another’s bodies they instinctively reach for each other due to that familiarity, but there is no resemblance of the way they once fucked to how they do now. The way they know each others bodies so well they can weaponise them against each other to do even more damage, leaving neither of them fully satisfied in the end and the act in fact only works to make their situation worse just feels heartbreaking on everyone, characters and readers alike. It’s short and to the point and makes me so proud.

What Benny Doesn’t Know Chapter 5

Frankie’s story

This is all about toxic love. It’s all the things well accepted when we are blinded by love. Overlooking the glaring problems just so you can be with them. Accepting their lies and bad behaviour. It’s doing drugs in the middle of the act. It’s cheating on partners. It is love and pain and longing and finally getting what you want but it’s at the wrong moment in the timelines and destined to fail from the second it started. Although a fun read and a wild time, the emotional weight and lessons for the reader also really shine through and I will always be proud of how I chose to handle this one, both for the characters and the over all story and it’s development.

the secret to writing good smut that doesn't feel like you're just repeating the same words for junk and fucking over and over is to spend your effort writing about everything happening around the sex and everything happening inside the heads of the people having sex and before you know it you have four paragraphs of introspection and two paragraphs describing the space and it's okay to use the word cock again

[rosebud-8]

pls pls pls stop pretending like anything caitlyn did was out of character. i swear some people want their characters to be moral paragons or they can’t handle enjoying them. no one in arcane is a “good person” in the classical view of what makes someone “good” (except maybe ekko). but they’re all well written. does jinx being a murderer terrorist stop me from deeply enjoying her character? no, because she’s an exceptionally flawed character making really really bad decisions. a characters flaws are what makes them enjoyable, without them we’d be looking at the flattest characters known to man. and in full truth, what caitlyn did DID off-put me from her character. i still feel a bit uneasy about her right now, which is truly a feat given that i fucking named myself after her. but my unease is not a sign that she was written poorly or out of character. it’s just a sign that it’s hard to watch characters you love dealing with their emotions in the quite literal most destructive way and deeply hurting everyone around them. but if this action turns you away from her *forever* and you won’t even entertain her character arc (which she’s so redemption coded but that’s another topic), then literally what are you watching this show for. because by that logic you should like literally no one (except again, maybe ekko). Jayce killed a kid. Vi hit her sister in anger and caused her descent into Jinx. Jinx is a murderer terrorist. Viktor’s blindness to caution got an innocent person killed. like this show is all ABOUT these people doing bad things because they can’t handle their emotions for shit. god forbid a woman be a morally complicated character

[rubberduckyrye]

So about Kokichi

How fans interact with him is really interesting, and I think that how you interpret Kokichi will greatly depend on what you believe to be true, what you believe to be lies, and what Kokichi's intentions are.

If you believe everything Kokichi says is a lie: You probably view Kokichi as a walking contradiction, a poorly written character with no clear motivations or desires. He's a complete enigma and not in a fun way. He's frustrating and confusing with no sense of direction other than pure chaos. Is he good? Is he bad? You probably think of him more on the negative side of the moral spectrum, because lies are inherently seen as negative.

If you believe Kokichi's kindness to be a lie and his malice to be the truth: You see something evil in Kokichi. Whether you want to or not, you see something evil in this boy and you believe that his "kindness" is a farce to make everyone suffer more. He wants to win the game, he doesn't care how--if he's not outright just fucking with everyone for funsies. He doesn't care about anyone aside from himself.

If you believe Kokichi's kindness to be the truth and his malice to be the lie: You probably see Kokichi as someone who's at his wits end, falling into the role of a villain to try and take back the control he never had. He's an active character, trying to save the people around him (whether that be actually saving them or saving them from a fate worse than death) and being thwarted at every turn. He sacrifices the idea of being cared for at the end of his life all for a last ditch effort to stop the suffering of not just the people in the killing game, but in future killing games as well.

And here's the thing: fans get to decide how they want to see this character.

You can choose to look at Kokichi and say he's lying about everything, lying about his kindness, or lying about his malice. You actively choose to believe which things he says are the lies and the truth.

All in all, you get to invent who he is.

And even though I dislike the idea of him being evil or malicious for my own personal interpretations, I think that it's a really special thing to have a character that is so flexible by design.

[authorsofghosts]

Birthday Kiss | Nightcrawler x Reader | One Shot

Author's Note: I find out an hour after waking up at almost 3pm it's Kurt's birthday... had to write something for the blue lad... German translations at the bottom !!

Summery: It was known by everyone except you two that there was something... awkward between you and Kurt. The exchanges of glances when the other wasn't looking, the way your laughs trailed off... Nothing but tonight was the end of all that.

Themes: Birthday, First Kiss, Fluff OMG, so much Fluff, Mutual Crush, Open Ending, Alcohol/Drinking Mention, Awkwardness, Flirting, Guest Appearance of lots of characters, Kissing (duh), Kurt Has a Beard and Forked Tongue (because fuck you), His face is also skin (not fur), Shorter!R (<5'9), R is a mutant/x-man (No Powers Written).

Word Count: 1.4k

The X-Men knew that Kurt wasn't one to like big celebrations, but that didn't stop them from forcing him out of his comfort zone. They rented out a mutant friendly restaurant for the blue boy's birthday. He had to be quite literally dragged by the hair into Wolverine's jeep to go. It was a site to see, really.

But you were happy to see him warm up to the idea as you crawled into the backseat next to him, his tail stopping it's anxious swishing to wrap around you and bring you closer. This made the both of you blush, his cheeks a faint purple.

"So... you knew about all, uh...this?" He asks, voice barely above a whisper.

"Who do you think brought up having a party?" You laugh, smile beaming as you look up at him. His blush deepens at the thought.

"Was?? Since when?!" He laughs, shaking his head as he tried to hide behind his hands. You reach out and pull his hands away from his face, his yellow eyes widening at the sudden act.

"The first, duh. I knew your birthday was coming up, and I wanted to make sure you knew we cared for you, Blau." You say, quickly watching his reaction, which was much softer than you imagined it would me.

"Well, I should have excepted it from mein Freundchen, huh?" He laughs, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you flush against his side. If it weren't for the slight bumps of the road, your ear would be flat against his chest. He quickly puts his knuckles against your scalp and gives you a noogie.

"Keep it civil back there, kids." The gruff voice of the driver and owner of the jeep said, cigar smoke puffing out his mouth as he spoke.

"Sorry, Logan!" You respond, pushing Kurt off of you, your own cheeks hot with blush. You look over to Rogue, who sat on the other side of Kurt, watching the two of you with a small smirk on her face. "What're you looking at?"

"Oh, nothin', sugar." She says, eyes darting between you and your friend, before turning to look out the window. You weren't sure what she meant, but quickly turned your attention back to Kurt, who shrugs and laughs. You watch as he turns to his sister and gets her attention with his tail.

You watch the two siblings mingle, resulting in both of them laughing about some inside joke. It made your heart flutter to hear him laugh, a big change from the man that didn't even want to celebrate his birthday, having to be dragged out of his room by you and Rogue, forced to get dressed in something slightly fancy, and shoved into the car.

The rest of the trip into town was filled with Wolverine's radio blaring some classic rock, small talk and jokes from the back sit of probably the worst trio to get on Logan's nerves, and the wind blowing through the car from the windows. You all finally arrived at the restaurant, having to wait in the jeep for the others. You get out and stretch your legs, quickly followed by Kurt as he sits back against the jeep, arms stretched high into the air.

You can't help but watch the way his white shirt slightly raises, showing just a bit of the blue fur underneath. You blush once again, quickly looking away before he can see. He finishes stretching, holding the front closure of his leather jacket. "You alright, mein Schatz?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry." You wave him off, seeing two more cars pull into the parking lot. You smile widely, grabbing his wrist, "Come on birthday boy."

Kurt's glowing yellow eyes widen as you pull him along towards the others, a humbled laugh leaving his throat as his tail swishes anxiously behind him. The two of you start a conversation with the others, Scott and Hank both giving Kurt a pat on the back as they greet him. You can't help but notice, even with all the people around, he's staring right at you majority of the time.

The party quickly moves inside, a slight rain picking up in the city. The restaurant was on the top floor of the building, high in the sky with a nice balcony. It wasn't that much a big room, the X-Men filling it up pretty well with the amounts of guests. You were quickly separated from Kurt as he was dragged to the bar by some of the guys. You watched from a distance as they all took a shot. You kind of wished you were there to see what they cheered to, but it was less important than the gossip that Warren was spilling to the small group you found yourself apart of.

The night continued on, food being brought and distributed among everyone. You heard a ring of glass being hit with something metal, getting everyone's attention as Scott stood in the middle of the room.

"Hello, everyone! Thank you all for coming out, truly. We're about to bring out the cake and play happy birthday, so if you'd all like to come over here," He gestured to the table next to him, a spot blank for the cake, "That'd be great, thanks!"

He quickly turned around and started talking with Jean and Logan. You looked around for Kurt, spotting him close to the table with a tail wrapped around his leg. You walked over to him, putting a hand around him in a side hug. "Hey, what's up?"

"Oh! Nothing, just... this is all wunderbar, liebe, I'm just a little... over stimulated?" He laughs out. You understand what he means, grabbing his wrist once more and pulling him towards the balcony.

"Then let's get some air, yeah?" You say, looking back at him and pausing before you step out the door. He nods, walking out with you into the cold air of the New York night. You both sigh, finally away from the loud party. You watch as Kurt walks to the balcony edge, leaning himself against the bars.

"Thank you," He grins, "for everything. I didn't think I'd want to be here, but it's very nice that you arranged this whole thing."

"Oh, it wasn't just me. We all pitched in. I just picked the music and decorations, really." You admit, trying to stay humble as your cheeks burned.

"Ja, but, you know," He turns back to you with a toothy grin, his fangs glinting in the moonlight, "it wouldn't have happened if you didn't ask to have a party."

You nod, understanding what he says but still not wanting to take all the credit. Before you can respond, he teleports behind you, the air around you surrounded with the familiar brimstone and ash smell. He places his hands on your shoulders, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek. The feeling of his goatee lingers on your skin as he pull back. "Danke, mein Fraund."

If your face didn't already feel hot, it now felt like it was on fire, your blush dripping to your neck and ears at the gesture. You look over at him, a genuine smile on your lips. "You're very welcome, Kurt." You say, turning around and wrapping your arms around his middle. You nuzzle against his chest.

You both stay there for a few moments, taking it in. You pull away first, heart pounding as the thought of your next action. Your hands travel up to Kurt's face, holding it in place as you stand on your tiptoes. "And... you're welcome for this." You say softly before pressing your lips flush against his own.

Kurt tenses up for a moment, the glow of his eyes disappearing as he closes his eyes, leaning further into the kiss. This shocked you, making you gasp, taken aback as his forked tongue licks across your bottom lip. He pulls you closer into him, a hand combing through your hair and holding your head in place.

You open your mouth, allowing him access into it. He chuckles softly, tail snaking around your hips. The kiss feels like it lasts forever, the two of you tangling in one another. When he finally pulls away, your eyes open to the sight of his cheeks a deep violet, feeling his breath pant against your lips as he presses your foreheads together.

"Did... that really just happen?" He asks, voice hoarse.

"Yeah, it did... It very much did, Kurt." You respond, pressing your lips against his again, but only for a moment. "Think of it as... a birthday gift, yeah?"

"I think a birthday kiss is the best thing you could have given me, Liebchen." Kurt laughs, capturing your lips once again.

"Was?" = What? "Blau" = Blue. "mein Freundchen" = My friend (in a condescending/playful way). "mein Schatz" = My treasure/My darling/My sweetheart. "Wunderbar" = Wonderful. "Liebe" = Love. "Ja" = Yes. "Danke, mein Fraund" = Thank you, my friend. "Liebchen" = Darling.

[drabbles-mc]

Just Like Old Times

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin & F!Reader

Written for @narcosfandomdiscord Book of Inception: fanwork that provides an origin story for a character that doesn't have one & "He made me who I am" & improvement

Warnings: 18+, language

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: the way that the last week or so has gone really just zapped all the motivation and creativity out of me, so getting this written really fought me every step of the way lmao. but i will say, that thinking about Jake Seresin in high school was fun. giving him a brother was also fun. going three for three on these prompts was challenging and rewarding and fun. and now i want to revisit these two at some point because idk i have issues lmao

You knew from the second that you’d walked into The Hard Deck that night that he didn’t remember you. Part of you didn’t really blame him, high school being such a distant memory for all of you now. Not just in years, but in all the experiences you’d packed into those years as well. From one standpoint you understood it…sort of.

From another standpoint you couldn’t believe that he could look you in the face and not say a word, not have even the tiniest flicker of recognition. He had looked right at you, and moved right on along to the next person. No matter how much things changed, they always stayed the fucking same.

It wasn’t until everyone was sitting out on the beach after the football game that the two of you even had a real conversation. Up until that point everyone had been running circles around each other, and you had much bigger things to worry about than Jake Seresin’s recollections of you, or lack thereof.

You were mid-conversation with Bob and Natasha when you noticed that neither of them were really looking at you anymore. You searched their faces, trying to figure out what it was that they were looking at.

Natasha leaned back, palms sinking into the sand as she said, “Bagman, six o’clock and incoming.”

You rolled your eyes, still not turning around to look at him. “Man knows how to ruin a good day.”

You didn’t have to look back to know how close he was, the tilts of Bob’s and Natasha’s head spelling out that information for you. His footfalls were nearly silent on the sand. Without realizing it, the closer he got, the deeper you pushed your fingertips into the sand like you were searching for something to grip onto.

Suddenly you were cast in Hangman’s shadow as he stood directly behind you. You shut your eyes for a moment, the longest blink ever as you tried hard to bite your tongue.

“Ladies,” he said, and you didn’t have to be looking at him to know exactly what his face looked like. “Bobby.”

Natasha was squinting against the sun but she still pulled a bit of a face. “It’s a good day, Hangman,” she said with just enough warning in her tone. “Let’s keep it that way.”

He chuckled, and you could see from the movement of his shadow that he was holding his hands out. “Every day at Top Gun is a good day, Phoenix. Thought you would’ve known that already.”

You were hoping that it was just going to be a quick thing, an in-passing comment that he made because he simply couldn’t bring himself to walk by your little trio without saying anything. But of course it wasn’t. Somehow the shift went from Natasha making extremely thinly veiled comments to the effect that Jake should hit the goddamn bricks, to him plopping down on the ground right there with you. He wedged himself right there between you and Bob like he had been there the whole time.

It didn’t take very long after that for Natasha to find a reason to leave. And wherever Natasha went, Bob was only ever a few steps behind. That left it with just you and Jake and the ocean that was slowly beginning to calm in front of you. It was a scene that could’ve been a peaceful one if the man sitting next to you had any interest in that.

Legs bent and pulled up towards you, you draped your arms across your knees. You were staring out at the receding waves as you asked, “To what do I owe the pleasure, Seresin?”

You could feel him staring at you and you made a point to not return the gesture. “Where’d you say you were from?”

You shook your head. “I didn’t. Also don’t think you’ve actually asked me a question directly the entire time we’ve been here.” You cast him a glance. “Too busy giving Rooster a hard time.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly at you like he was studying you, but there was still a smirk on his face. The more time you spent around him, the more you wondered if that was just what his face defaulted to these days. He leaned back on his palms, legs stretched out in front of him.

“Wasn’t until I heard Phoenix call you by your last name earlier that I realized—”

“Wow,” you barked out with a laugh, unable to stop yourself. “You’ve been running drills and sitting in class with me for how long and it took until today for you to recognize me? No sense of déjà vu sitting two rows over from me and picking on other kids in class? Nothin’ jogged your memory even a little?”

He leaned back, brows meeting for a moment. “When did you—”

“The first night we all got here!” you said, gesturing emphatically at nothing.

The smirk instantly returned to his face. “I’m that memorable, huh?”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “Fuck off.”

“What? C’mon, you can’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“No?” he asked, chuckling like he knew better than to believe you. A lot of confidence in your character for someone who only remembered who you were within the last two hours.

“No. Being mad would suggest that I’m somehow surprised that you’re still the way that you are. And I’m definitely…not.” You sighed. “You’re still Jake Seresin. Only difference now is—”

“My rank? The number of confirmed kills I have?” he tried to fill in the blanks, cocky as he’d ever been.

You looked at him. “Only difference is now you’re old enough to know better.” You saw the way he rolled his eyes at you and couldn’t help but to say, “I don't get you, Jake.”

The look on his face let you know that it had been a long time since someone referred to him by just his first name, not his last or his callsign. There was something intimate about it in a way. You wouldn't have given it any thought if he hadn't flinched at it.

He recovered as quickly as he could, that air of nonchalance reappearing around him. “I'm no Mystery Man.” He held his hands out in a brief gesture, like an invitation to scan him over. “What you see is what you get.”

It wasn't untrue. Jake Seresin had never been the type of person who lived a double life. Who he was around you was exactly who he was around everyone else. Maybe when it was just him, when there was no one else in the room looking to him or expecting anything from him, he was a different person. Not that it mattered—the world was never going to know. Reaching as far back as you could in your brain for memories of him, he'd always been some version of the man sitting in the sand next to you. He was just looking a little more refined these days.

You had just been hoping, when you'd seen him again, that maybe he would've changed by now. Nothing would be different if he wasn't different, but it would've been nice if it could be. The longer you looked at him, the more you tried to un-blur all of the memories that you hadn't bothered to tap into in a long time.

“How's your brother these days?” you asked, diverting course just slightly.

The question was immediately met with an eye-roll. “Fine.”

You had to let out a quiet laugh at that. “Yeah? That good, huh?”

He shrugged. “You want the play-by-play or something?” He shook his head, looking out at the ocean instead of at you. “He's fine.”

“You two not get along anymore or something? I thought you were both—”

“I see him on holidays. We text on birthdays. He is off doing…whatever he does.”

You hadn't expected the tension. From what you remembered, the two of them had gotten along well enough. His brother was a few years ahead of both of you, in his senior year of high school when the two of you were freshman. But he'd always been nice, nicer than Jake had been anyway. But they ran in a lot of the same circles, played a lot of the same sports, and they seemed to have a relatively good time doing it. Judging by the way that Jake was avoiding looking in your direction, you were now wondering if you were misremembering it all.

“We're grown-ups now, you know,” you offered up finally. “If you don't want to talk about him you can just say that.”

He flipped it right back on you. “We're grown-ups now, I can answer questions about Tommy if you have them.”

You laughed quietly and shook your head. “I can see that. The answers you've given so far have been so thorough and paint such a clear picture.” It got him to laugh even though you could tell that he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction. After a moment you cleared your throat. “You guys just seemed to get along back then, is all.”

Now he was looking at you again. “Yeah, Tommy got along with everyone back then—still does.”

You hummed in amusement. “Guess that trait isn't a genetic one, then.”

He cracked a small grin as he swatted sand at you. “Funny.” There was a pause, and you were waiting for him to pick something else to talk about, or for him to just get up and leave. Instead, he gave himself a moment and then said, “Tommy graduated with a full ride, but even when he was gone somehow I was still…” he trailed off. “Navy was the first place I wasn't a legacy kid. No footsteps to follow. Just me.”

“Hmm,” you nodded, not sure what you really wanted to say in response to that.

He caught your uncertainty. “What?”

“Nothing, I just…you wanna say that your brother, your family, your whoever was why you were like that back then. Fine, I get that, kind of. But then why,” you curled your fingers into the sand, “are you still up to all the same shit?”

“I'm not—”

“You are.” The laugh you let out was dry. “I'm one of the only people here that you can't lie to about that. I knew you back then, and I know you now, and from what I've seen? Not much has changed.”

The pinch of his brows let you know that what you were saying was getting to him, whether he admitted to it or not. He tried to hide it, and was semi-successful at it—it probably would've fooled someone else. “If it ain't broke—”

You didn't let him get to the end of the sentence. “There's always room for improvement.”

You were used to laughing at your own little one-liners, but Jake laughing at them too was new, especially when they were at his expense. Whatever the two of you were doing in that moment, it was the closest to being friends that you'd ever been. It was still a stretch but it was something.

“I don't know, you stack my resumé up against anyone else's here and I'd say I'm about as improved as it gets.”

“I think the one thing that could definitely still do with some improving is your humility,” you rebutted with a laugh. You geared up to hear some comment about how there was no need to be humble if he could back up everything that he was saying. When he didn’t, you said, “And, if you feel like taking suggestions—”

“You got another one for me?” he joked.

You laughed. “Yeah, of course.” You cleared your throat. “You said it yourself that this is the one place where none of that other stuff matters, like it never happened. So maybe, when you get a chance, you should get around to dropping all the bitterness that goes along with the brotherhood rivalry.” You shrugged, offering a small smile. “Cocky doesn't pair well with the sad, ‘He made me who I am,’ shtick.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise as he laughed. “You're meaner than I remember.”

“Yeah, that's because you don't remember me,” you said, the lift at the ends of your lips taking the sting out of your words.

The look of surprise didn’t fade from his face, neither did the amusement. “Damn.”

You still had a smile on your face as you stood back up. Brushing the sand off the backs of your legs, you looked at him. It was a strange feeling, caught between remembering how things were back then and knowing how they were now. A lot of things hadn't changed, clearly, but the circumstances certainly had. You wanted more of it to be different, but there was no saying it so plainly.

“You heading back?” you asked, standing completely upright.

He looked up at you from where he was sitting. Shaking his head, he replied, “Not yet.”

You cocked your head to the side, folding your arms over your chest. “Going to sit out here with your thoughts?”

He chuckled and shrugged. “Well, you did give me a lot to think about.”

“Don't think too hard,” you joked as you started to walk away, “otherwise smoke’ll start coming out of your ears.”

“Your concern is touching!” he called after you, laughing as he spoke.

Turning around to face him, you continued walking away. “Guess I'm just too sentimental for my own good!” you replied, throwing your hands up in apparent exasperation with yourself.

You could still see the grin on his face as you turned back around. Even with your back to him, you still found yourself smiling too. You knew better than to get your hopes up for much, but there was still part of you that was thinking that maybe there was still a chance for things to start changing before all was said and done.

There was still the very large possibility that things would continue to be the same as they ever were. You knew that. But, the same way you'd been wanting things to be different the first night you turned up at The Hard Deck, you still wanted things to be different now. It felt a little more attainable now than it had then. And, if nothing else, at least you knew that this time everything was going to be a bit more memorable.

(divider by @inklore 🩶)

TGM Taglist: @garbinge @proceduralpassion @cositapreciosa @justreblogginfics (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

[runraerun]

darling, dearest, dead

written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge for November | prompt: guard | wc: 532 | rated: G | cw: major character death (but not really?) | tags: angst with a hopeful ending, Ghost!Steve Harrington, GhostHunter!Eddie Munson

There’s a legend that the first person who gets buried in a cemetery becomes the guardian of all the other souls buried there after. They become a reaper of sorts, ferrying the newly dead from this world to the next���a place they can never go.

This is what happens to Steve Harrington, aged just eighteen when he tragically dies in the Starcourt tragedy in ‘85.

Steve, who dies but doesn’t move on. Doesn’t go peacefully into that good night, or however the hell the saying goes. He can’t.

Steve, who attends his own burial, but despite how loud he screams into the faces of his loved ones, goes entirely unheard.

He eventually gets it, of course. Despite what everyone thinks (thought? Do they still think of him?) Steve isn’t stupid. He catches on quickly when the first few souls come wandering up to him, lost and alone. Steve can see the path they’re supposed to follow, even when they can’t. So, Steve takes the time to explain to them what he knows, tries to comfort them, before guiding them towards the afterlife.

It’s a curse, really. Eternal isolation. Decades pass but Steve remains. The few souls he speaks to are always so eager to leave him. In the end, Steve’s left alone.

And then one day, Eddie Munson comes stomping through his cemetery.

—🛡️—

“What’s with the get up?” A dark haired stranger asks, startling Steve, “there an anime convention going on or something?”

Steve’s eyes trail up and down the newcomer. He wants to make a comment about the strange attire he died in, but upsetting the newly departed usually isn’t a good idea.

“It’s my work uniform. I didn’t have time to change.” Steve explains, a well-rehearsed response. The Scoops uniform that he can never shed was always a point of interest for people. “Sorry, I didn’t see you come in.”

This is the first time Steve’s missed a burial. Strange.

The guy snorts, “don’t apologize. I’m the one intruding. You visiting someone? I can wait to do my shit.”

Steve frowns, brows creasing where they come together. “No. I’m just… waiting.” He answers.

“For the ghost?” The stranger asks, his interest clearly piqued.

Steve blinks. “The ghost?”

“Yeah, y’know. The ghost that supposedly haunts this graveyard. Legend has it it’s some guy who died way back in the 80’s—there've been sightings for like, thirty years, but no one’s been able to actually record anything decent. All the pictures are super blurry. But I intend to change that. I’m Eddie, by the way. Ghost hunter and semi-professional psychic.” Eddie grins, giving a strange little bow in his introduction.

Wait…

“1985?” Steve asks.

“Yep,” Eddie pop’s the ‘p’, “The year Starcourt burned down and old Steven Harrington bit the dust. You know the story?”

Steve didn’t need to breathe—not anymore. And yet, he still felt short of breath. Lightheaded.

“It’s just Steve.” He clarifies.

“Yeah?” Eddie snorts, “how would you—”

A light seems to go off in Eddie’s head. He pales, eyes widening.

“You can really see me?” Steve can’t help but laugh, tears stinging his eyes.

“Yeah, I can see you, Steve.” Eddie mumbles, stunned, looking like he’d seen a ghost.

—

tagging: @sleepy-steve because they let me rant about reaper Steve to them<3 check out her reaper!eddie fic: here!💘

[a-ikuoliver]

kinktober day 31: maki + stepcest

w/c: 2.9k warning/s: f!reader (wearing a dress, referred to as woman), stepcest/incest, characters are referred to as sisters/use of honorifics, masturbation (r!receiving), panty sniffing/stealing, degradation, oral (r!giving), semi-public sex, maki's kinda (read: very) mean lmao notes: this is part of @ficsforgaza kinktober event!! ffg kinktober masterlist — please enjoy and check out the creators who helped raise over $400 usd for gaza aid!! this is my first time writing maki and i think i've gone blind from horniness so i think i did well LMAO inspo/acknowledgements: co-written with my lover @cottoncalicoes

crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • wip updates & voting • kofi • askbox

“congratulations again to the happy couple!” swallowing thickly, you take the opportunity during the applause to clear your throat, “and i’m so excited to be an honorary zen’in.”

you hate your cognisance of the weight of the microphone in your hand, your sweaty palms sliding against the metal no matter how nervously you adjusted your grip on the cylinder. you feel like you’re going through withdrawal, your lips too tight in your smile, showing too many teeth, your fingers twitching at your side, sweat beading on your brow as you stood at the centre of the dance floor in front of your new family on the best day of their lives.

for them, it looks like it is; mai, mingling with everyone in her stunning bridesmaid’s gown, dark green hair framing her pretty face, glitter sparkling on her eyelids in the low light, the blushing bride glowing at the centre table, her white slip dress rubbing against her grooms leg as he inched their chairs closer, both of them beaming with lovesick smiles. and maki, in a matching dress with her twin, the gown ruching, plunging and bunching on every addictive curve of her body, like your mother had chosen the dresses just to torture you. you, in comparison, look miserable with your flushed cheeks, darting eyes, clammy fingers attempting to pull the clinging fabric away from your searing skin.

you can’t do it. you can’t. you can’t even last a day without it.

your lewd vice. an unintentional habit born the week you moved in with your new family. you’d all settled into a routine quickly; family dinner, tidying the home, showering and bathing, and then slinking back to your bedroom for some peace. any apprehension you may have felt about the change melted from you when you’d stepped into the bathroom on your fifth night, the walls still sticky with humidity from your step-sisters shower, the faucet dripping against the porcelain tile rhythmically. only after stripping down to your underwear did you notice it; your downfall served to you on a silver platter. maki’s underwear strewn carelessly across the floor.

the fabric was plain. black. a boy short cut, curved to complement the shape of her ass. everything you'd expect from your new step-sister.

shame bubbled in your stomach, a pit of trepidation building the more you stared at the garment. moving on autopilot, hot water spouted from the shower, noisily hitting the tile and glass opposite it, steam billowing to the ceiling, your fingers snatching the panties before you can think about the repercussions, your left hand slipping between your thighs to furiously fuck yourself, your garbled moans and pants muffled by your right hand, holding her panties over your nose and lips like a depraved version of a mask.

each and every single day since had been no different. you and maki crossing paths, her hair still damp, droplets trailing down the skin of her neck, and you, refusing to meet her eye, hurrying into the bathroom after her, needing to huff and suck and lick at her underwear while they still tasted like your oneesan.

wetting your dry lips, you pass the microphone along to the next, family members rushing to pass along their well wishes to the happy couple, you only hope your new family doesn’t notice the way your eyes glaze over, meeting maki’s across the room. your (now official) step-sister stares over the top of the round frames of her glasses, tawny eyes studying you like she’s watching the memory replaying in your mind, too, hearing the wanton call of her name.

with a polite smile to a cousin who’s name escapes you, you slip from the banquet room, ducking your head past ornate decor, white, gold and a muted emerald green to match the bridesmaid dresses, the train of your own billowing after you as you rush toward the end of the hallway, near sprinting by the time you reach the door.

swinging the door open, your chest heaves, lungs tightening each time you try to catch your breath, too preoccupied with hiking the length of your dress up to focus on your breathing, too impatient to even hold your underwear aside when you press your fingertips to your aching clit, only just managing to slam the stall door shut before you breathe out an airy sigh.

the bathroom door swings open, the hinges creaking, a noise that should send your heart to your throat. instead, you only feel a frustrated scream build in your oesophagus, willing your unwanted guest to take care of themselves quickly, to let you take care of your issue.

their steps echo ominously toward your stall, each click in time with your erratic pulse before stopping outside your door, their shoes eerily similar to the heels maki adorned for the event.

“you're pathetic.” the familiar, bored voice rings from the opposite side of the stall, icy blood rushing in your ears nearly deafening you, “what’s it been, hm? not even an entire day without stuffing yourself full?”

your cunt aches at her tone, disappointment laced through every syllable, disappointed in your weakness, about to lecture you on self-control.

when you don’t answer her, she knocks sharply against the door, demanding your attention with the jarring note, “come here. now.”

reluctantly, you obey, a painful jolt shooting through your spine to your neglected clit when you drag your hand away, clenching your fists between your thighs, trying not to release a petulant groan, willing yourself not to whine and cry to your step-sister about your addiction, your debauched habit, the wail catching in your throat before it can be free. easing the door open, you attempt to steel your features, letting your dress fall back into place, hiding the slick on your thighs when you meet maki’s wolfish gaze.

“look at you,” she sneers, tilting her head to take in your dishevelled appearance — your dress creased at your hips, the angry marks your nails left in your palms, your swollen, bitten lips, “can you even get off without your nose stuffed in my underwear?”

your stomach drops at her words, eyes darting around the confined space, trying to find something to look at other than her face. feeble excuses tumble past chapped lips, stuttering over every word that comes to mind, finally landing on a complete sentence, “i-i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

picking nervously at the bed of your nails, painted to match hers for the special day, you still avoid her sharp eyes, your gaze landing on her lips as she laughs at you.

“perverted and an actor,” crowding into the already cramped space, she’s sure to slide the lock into place behind her before she continues, “you really thought i wouldn’t notice your little habit?”

cowering under the heat of her stare, maki easily backs you against the wall, the tension thick enough even the dullest blade would slice through it; a heat blossoming anywhere she touches you, one hand at your shoulder, the other your waist, her hips pressing into yours to trap you beneath her patronising sneer.

“how long?” her slender fingers move to grasp your jaw, calloused fingertips squishing the fat of your cheeks, pressing them together until your lips parted dumbly, tilting your head to look into her shining eyes. the glass atop her nose flashes, a fierceness reflected back at you.

although, the longer you stare, the sooner you realise it’s her pupils swimming with the wickedness.

“what?”

“how long did you think you could get away with it?” pressing herself harder to you, she studies every minute reaction: the flutter of your eyelashes, the pucker of your lips, the whine in your throat, the wiggle of your hips, chasing the euphoria she was willing to give you with every adjustment of her hips.

“using me to get off like that,” leaning closer like she’s going to kiss you, she continues clicking her tongue at you, her voice dripping in vitriol, “stealing my underwear, getting yourself off to the smell of me like some pervert, and all i get is a selfish little sister and stained underwear.”

digging her fingertips into your side to halt your wiggling, you bite back a moan, a small part of you worried you’re going to stain her dress with your slick.

“christ, and you’re getting off on this, too?” looking down her nose at you, there’s a pang of humiliation blooming at the nape of your neck until she grins, as evil as the glint in her eye, “you fucking freak.”

“i’m not a freak.”

maki laughs, no, snicker at your weak voice, sounding more like a frightened child trying to stand up to its playground bully, 'sensei said you're not allowed to snatch,', dropping her hand from your waist, she slips it between your thighs, allowing you to wiggle and grind into her hand, your body still screaming to cum, here, like this, with your sister’s fingers inspecting the slick drooling from your pussy, the voice in your head screaming at you to leave growing quieter and quieter, silenced for good when she swipes her thumb over your clit.

“you have a different word for getting this wet for me?”

heat rushes to your face, stammering like a poor little victim again as she strokes your dripping slit painstakingly slowly, “you know what i think?”

you only whine in acknowledgement, reaching for her wrist in an attempt to get closer, to feel her weight pinning you, her heat, for more.

tightening her grip on your jaw, she sadistically draws her fingers away from you, “when your oneesan asks you a question, freak, you answer.”

“w-what do you think, maki?”

“show some respect,” she goads, “what do you moan when your fingers are stuffing your greedy cunt? say it.”

“what do you think… oneesan,” you sound pathetic moaning the honorific, the taste of it on your tongue enough to make your cunt pulse and gush, your empty hole clenching around nothing when maki rewards you with her thumb stroking circles on your clit.

a predatory smile graces her lips, still glossy with makeup, her feminine features twisting as she taunts you, “i think you owe me.”

it doesn’t take much for maki to get you to your knees, pushing at your limbs until you’re fumbling to kneel on the frigid tiled floor beneath her, your face level with her crotch. even maki’s hands tangling in your hair can’t stop you from pressing your face between her thighs, the dull pain of her tug at your scalp nothing compared to the ache in your stomach, a hearth burning and smouldering with each prod, pinch and spit from your step-sister. the scent of her like gasoline, your kindled hearth quickly growing into an uncontrollable flame.

she was right, you can’t get off without this anymore, without the taboo, the scent of her, the taste of her on the cotton.

your eyelids flutter, dazed when you dip your head beneath the hem of her dress, sucking in a deep breath with your face pressed to her cunt, already addicted to how much better it is like this – the heat of her muscular thighs around your head, the strength of her smell, the way you can trace the shape of her cunt while sucking her taste from the material, more and more of her cum starting to drool from her cunt the more you tried to lap it up, greedily drinking everything in.

hot blood rushes in your ears, into your cunt, pressing your face harder into her cunt, bruising your nose against her pubic bone while mouthing desperately at her pussy. as if remembering yourself, you bring your hands up to join your ravenous mouth beneath her dress, a whimper torn from your throat when she snatches you away from her soaked underwear.

“still so greedy, aren’t you?” maki’s eyes match yours, a debauched need burning in the depths of her dark eyes, “use your manners. ask for a taste.”

“oneesan,” you don’t hesitate like you did moments ago, too caught up with the desperation to taste her firsthand, instead of your face buried in her panties trying to taste the minute amount of her through the material, too caught up in your sister’s gravity to bring yourself to care about the humiliating position she had you in. with a broken voice, you plead, “please, let me taste you, oneesan.”

hazel eyes flash at your eagerness, hardly moving an inch in a nod before you're pouncing on her — pawing at her underwear like a woman starved, tugging the material down enough to curl your tongue around the string connecting her to the fabric before you abandoned them in place of spreading her thighs apart, conscious of every precious second that could be spent with your nose bumping against her clit.

if you thought you were addicted before, tasting maki like this had you hooked, euphoria swimming in your veins when your tongue connected with her flesh. you didn't think you could sink any lower than suckling your step-sisters underwear clean in the shared bathroom, but stuffed and kneeling in a bathroom stall at your parents wedding, you realised you had miles left to sink for her. moaning against her skin, you press forward, crawling on your hands and knees to impatiently suck at her skin even as she stumbled into the stall door.

saliva slips down your throat, your lips wet with it when you keen, curling and swirling your tongue over every inch of her cunt you can possibly reach like this, desperately pawing at her thighs to get more, taste more, touch more, just more.

“god,” crossed eyes meet hers, expecting her to look even half as debased as you do, instead eye to eye with her glare, one dark brow quirked, there's only disinterest reflecting back in her pupils, “i finally let you eat my cunt, and this is the best you can do?”

gripping the hair at the base of your skull, she steps over you until you’re stretching awkwardly to keep your head comfortably in her grip, one of your hands holding her ass to stay upright while she positions herself to fuck your mouth, “maybe you should just stick to licking my cum off my underwear. seems that’s all you’re good at.”

tightening her hold on your hair, maki manoeuvres you beneath her, tugging your hair — and subsequently your head — where she wants you. she's slow, deliberate, at first, tortuously so, your tongue tracing sensuously along her slit, dipping into her cunt to taste the cum beginning to drip from her, before she’d drag you backward to her clit.

while pushing and pulling you, her hips grind in a perfect rhythm to soak her pussy, working herself  closer and closer, using your tongue like some toy; grinding harder on your face when she wants to let you have a taste, tugging you back by the hair when she wants to watch the way your lips are connected to her cunt with a silky white string, studying how your eyes roll into your skull, hazy with lust when it snaps back onto your bottom lip.

“so lucky your oneesan is here to teach you how to eat pussy, hm?” her cheeks are flush, the only sign of your affect on her other than the cum sticking to her thighs, to your lips like her perverted take on lip gloss. licking her cum from your mouth, you nod, your eyes darting back to her cunt in a silent plead for her to let you continue, to taste her cum as her thighs shake around your head.

she obliges your taboo request, a hiss echoing in the small stall when you dig your nails into the fat of her ass, burying your face in her once more — gently lapping at her pussy while your nose rubbed against her clit, the scent of her cunt driving you insane, her smell embedded in the hair just above her clit making you dizzy, grateful for your kneeling position, taking everything in you to be patient, to go slow, to follow her movements as she strings you along.

sucking and swirling your tongue around her clit until she cants her hips, slurping and flattening your tongue to drink in much of her as you could, mouthing along her slit when she'd cradle the back of your skull to hold you close to her.

you think she's close, her clit pulsing like yours did beneath your fingers when you'd nearly suffocate yourself with her panties to your nose, her pussy clenching around your tongue, her hips jumping erratically. her moan wavers as her hold on your skull tightens, dull nails scratching angry marks into your scalp as she holds you with both hands, using your face, spreading her cum all around your nose, lips and jaw, your tongue stuck out dumbly as she takes what she needs from you, holding your face deep into her cunt when she cums with an airy, drawn out hum — silky cream drooling straight onto your tongue while you hungrily lapped at her skin, licking her cunt and thighs clean of the precious liquid, ears perking at each of your sister's sharp inhales.

like an over excitable puppy, maki has to pull you away from her again, “you were alright.” she pants, catching her breath as you stare up at her with clouded eyes, “try harder tonight you can keep the panties to jerk off with, pervert."

© all works belong to @a-ikuoliver, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost, feed my works into ai or recommend my work on other platforms, or bind my fanworks for sale.

[gay-furry-poseidon-lover]

"dont pick and choose" where is this enthusiasm for any other crimes that are blantly stated as happening in the musical?

Epic the Musical isnt meant to be perfectly accurate to the original poems. In Epic, we get "seven years shes kept you trapped out of your control, time can take a heavy toll." And then Calypsos songs from her perspective. They are emotional songs, thats like... what musicals are supposed to do, make you feel stuff. Lots of people dont interpret Epic Calypso as a rapist, because its not explicitly written to send that message.

Are we gonna talk about The Odyssey or are we gonna talk about Epic the musical. They are different. "people like Circe," In the Odyssey, Odysseus did not have a choice to sleep with her. He had to. Its not that people just suddenly dont care that she assaulted him, its that Epic is showing us a different version. And Epic's Calypso is shown differently as well.

"I spent my whole life here, was cast away when i was young, alone for a hundred years, i had no friends but the sky and sun," This is what we get about Epic's Calypso's back story. That is different from versions of the myth where Calypso just goes and lives on an island.

However you feel about her is fine, youre allowed to not like her, to hate her even. But this is a fictional character based on a fictional character in a poem from a very long time ago. These arent real people. Odysseus is not on the internet, hes not reading posts about people analizing Calypsos character in a musical and feeling victim blamed or retraumatized. And if you relate a lot to Odysseus and that makes you hate Calypso thats fine. Not everyone sees her in your same context though, and thats not an attack on you. If this is something that is so distressing to you, block people who post about her, hit not interested, stop engaging with it. Take care of yourself. But you don't get to just decide that nobody can like this character ever, and that if they do they're a bad person who thinks rape is okay.

Works of fiction aren't real. Obviously I think that killing a baby is horrible, whether the gods told you too or not. But I still love Ody. That doesnt mean I dont care if people kill babies. I enjoy Zeus's character and songs even though he forces Odysseus to choose between the life of his crew or his own, which is like definitely immensely traumatizing. Enjoying his part in the musical doesnt mean i think thats good?

A lot of characters from greek myth have raped people. But we have the understand that obviously that is bad and wrong, and we would never be fans or sympathize with abusers in real life. At least I do. I havent seen a bit of discourse about Zeus (one of the most famous aggressors) or about any other gods. People enjoy them freely, and thats generally fine.

Why is Calypso treated so differently. Like i don't think anyone is literally arguing that rape is good and its okay that Homer's Calypso did that, nor are they saying that to any victims in their life. And if they are, obviously thats bad. But people just enjoying this character isn't.

May I just point out that calypso is apologising (no matter how backwards it comes off ) only when Odysseus was finally freed by someone else from her.

And that until then she was still actively pushing Odysseus’ Boundaries??

Lighter mot or no she kept this man against his will for seven years. And she didn’t GROW UP on that island. She had a life before that— that led her to be trapped by the gods.

Like she IS a sympathetic and tragic character but let’s not act like she’s innocent.

“for seven years she kept you against your will”

THIS DAMN LINE. LISTEN. BLOODY LISTEN TO IT ALL. DONT PICK WHAT YOU CHOOSE.

There’s a REASON people don’t have an issue with Circe. Are happy to see her as a FRIEND to Odysseus. CALYPSO IS NOT THE SAME CASE.

[fruityindividual]

you erased tonks and she's literally teddy's mom??? why do ff writers keep doing this??? this fandom is hella misogynistic let the female characters be MOMS!!

mkay. thoughts + questions below the cut xx

i do not care abt tonks enough to write abt her. i won't spend my time writing abt a character i dont find interesting just cos jkr did and u think i should.

is it ok w you if i leave tonks out of fics that don't include teddy?

is tonks' motherhood where u draw the line?

cos shes a mum?

cos being a mum is the most important aspect of her canon female character?

or am i misunderstanding you? like u've misunderstood why i chose to not include tonks in tmos?

should i have killed her off? or made her a v minor character? either way, as ppl who clearly care so deeply abt tonks, u would've been disappointed.

oh! i shouldve just written an oc kid?

so u don't mind if tonks is left out of fics that don't include teddy? cos if she's not a mum, then there's no point? or am i misunderstanding you? like u've misunderstood why i chose to not include tonks in tmos?

'this fandom is misogynistic' -> 'let em be MOMS!!'

fictional characters dont actually have 2 b anything just cos you and jkr say so.

including a character solely cos shes a mum in canon isn't a v convincing reason to divorce (<-lmao) myself from wht i'd prefer writing. imo

i feel no obligation 2 write tonks just cos jkr did n u think i should. this stems from my personal belief that i can write whtevr the fuck i want.

calling a fandom as a whole 'misogynistic' but citing tonks' motherhood as ur only grievance is rly interesting. and by 'interesting,' i mean dense + annoying

fandom is 'denying tonks her motherhood?' well i also denied her a fucking existence......btw.

excluding tonks from tmos wasn't driven by my desire to 'get her out of the way' so r/s ('two gay men' <-insane three words 2 type n click send on btw anon) could raise teddy, but rather my desire to literally not write abt her at all. cos ive never rly found her an interesting character. is that wrong? i'm not convinced it is. but i dont pretend to have given this as much thought as u three big thinkers.

write ur own fics n give tonks the appreciation u think is lacking instead of whinging abt the product of my own loser daydreams in my askbox.

u'll never convince me that these sorts of asks are sent in effort to make the world a better place <3

will always welcome asks n polite discourse + treat everyone w the respect they deserve, but pls consider baiting, drama-fuelled asks like these outside of my boundaries. dont bring this shit into my house xoxo

[theoutcastrogue]

Bounded Accuracy, why it was necessary, and why it doesn't have to apply to skills

"Why Bounded Accuracy?", by Justin Alexander

"Let’s start by talking about bounded accuracy. Endless ink has been spilt on this topic, but I think one of the clearest way to understand bounded accuracy — what it is, why it works the way it does, how it’s supposed to be used — is to look at the design lineage which created it.

To do that, we need to go back about twenty years to the development of the Epic Level Handbook for 3rd Edition. The concept was to extend play past 20th level, allowing players to continue leveling up their characters forever.

The big problem the designers faced was that different classes gained bonuses to core abilities — attacks, saving throws, etc. — at different rates, which meant that their values diverged over time. By 20th level, the highest and lowest bonuses had already diverged so much that the difference exceeded the range of the d20 roll. This meant that any AC or DC you set would either be an automatic success for some PCs or impossible for others.

The designers of the Epic Level Handbook tried jumping through a whole bunch of hoops to solve or ameliorate this problem, but largely failed. As a result, the Epic Level Handbook was a pretty flawed experience at a fundamental level (and its failure may have actually played a major role in Wizards of the Coast abandoning the OGL and the doom of 4th Edition, but that’s a tale for another time)."

[The Rogue notes: I think the big problem with 3.5 was that the breaking of the d20 roll (where the AC or DC you set could be auto-fail for some and auto-success for others) happened LONG before epic levels, if players made characters with different levels of optimisation. Which was sometimes a result of, well, studying, pouring through splatbooks and looking up combos on the internet, but other times it just happened, without any effort. Some classes had to jump through hoops to keep up with the rest, and that was bad.]

"On that note, fast forward to 4th Edition: The designers knew this was a problem. (Several of the designers had actually worked on the Epic Level Handbook.) They wanted to avoid this problem with the new edition.

Their solution was to level up everyone’s bonuses across the board: Classes would be strong at some things and weak at others, but the values wouldn’t diverge. This methodology was, furthermore, wedded to 4th Edition’s design ethos of “level up the whole world with the PCs” and more or less fundamental to its My Precious Encounter school of encounter design.

Fast forward again, this time to 5th Edition: The 4th Edition of the game had burned down, fell over, and then sank into the swamp, and 5th Edition’s mission was to win back the D&D players they had lost. The whole “level up the world” ethos was widely identified as one of the things people who hated 4th Edition hated about 4th Edition, so it had go.

Bounded accuracy was the solution. Importantly, bounded accuracy was about two things:

Controlling AC & DC so that the target numbers never become impossible for some of the PCs.

Controlling bonuses so that the results don’t become automatic successes for some of the PCs.

In other words, all of the results exist within that boundary. Hence, “bounded accuracy.”

If you go back to the original problem experienced in 3rd Edition (and which metastasized in the Epic Level Handbook), you can see how this solves the problem. It also avoids the 4th Edition problem where your numbers get bigger, but your results never actually improve because the numbers increase in lockstep: As long as the DCs remain consistently in bounds, the moderate increases to the PCs’ bonuses will see them succeed more often as they increase in level, resulting in high-level characters who feel (and are!) more effective than 1st level characters."

– Justin Alexander | The Alexandrian, September 2022

Commentary: Bounded Accuracy and Skills

This very well-written summary was part of an article roasting the 5e skill system, and specifically arguing that Expertise is bad because it breaks Bounded Accuracy, and Reliable Talent makes it worse. And with this, I disagree.

I think that Bounded Accuracy is excellent for combat's standard rolls: attack vs AC, and saving throw vs DC. That's when you need numbers that challenge the whole party: some characters may have a better chance than others, sure, but the d20 roll doesn't become irrelevant because this one is guaranteed to succeed and that one is doomed to fail.

But for otherwise interacting with the world, I actually don't think the numbers need to challenge the whole party. I think immersion and simulation (I like these!) are better served by making such challenges tricky. Occasionally they will be too easy for some, and/or too hard for others, depending on where the characters focused their training. And when that happens, it's up to the party to figure out ways to make up for it, to look for other, creative solutions rather than get stuck on a skill check that one or more of them are doomed to fail, and in the end to acknowledge that some tasks are suited for only some of them.

So maybe half the party auto-failing to scale that wall means they need to find another way in, or use their spells, or have the athletic ones climb up and throw down a knotted rope. That's good! It's a complication that requires a solution other than rolling a single check! Maybe only the Wizard (with 2024 rules) has a chance of making that extreme Arcana check about a long lost artifact. That's great! It makes sense and it's immersive, they should be the only one able to make it. And maybe, if your goal is to stealthily scout ahead, don't send forth the clanging armoured warriors, only send the sneaky rogues. That's fantastic! It's basic tactics! What's not to like?

I have BIG beefs with the 5e skill system, on account that it's half-baked (and 5.5 is somehow even less baked), and doesn't give details or DCs even for the most bog-standard skill uses that you expect to come up at every campaign. A generic DC table from very easy to nearly impossible is great as a guideline for niche cases, and crazy things the players came up with. But things like climbing walls and picking pockets should come with instructions and numbers. As is, the DM is either winging it every time and the players are in the dark, or the DM is doing the designers' work for them, and homebrewing DC tables for everything. But bounded accuracy is not the problem here, imo.

[jbaileyfansite]

Jeff Goldblum is handing off the dinosaur-sized torch to “Wicked” co-star Jonathan Bailey.

Bailey is taking on the role of paleontologist Dr. Henry Loomis in the latest “Jurassic Park” film, “Jurassic World Rebirth” – and nobody’s more excited to see it than Goldblum.

“The hope of the world resides, and I can think of no better baton receiver to carry on the ‘da da da da da,'” Goldblum tells Variety, singing the iconic “Jurassic Park” theme by John Williams. “It’s Jonathan Bailey! It’s like no other!”

Bailey shares that he and Goldblum chatted about the role for the first time while they were en route to CinemaCon earlier this year. “I had the invitation to join the ‘Jurassic’ world, to join the conga line led by Jeff,” Bailey said. “The original film was a seminal cinematic moment, purely because of Jeff, but also, I went with my family, and the multi-sensory experience of going to see a film so perfectly realized.”

Bailey adds, “There’s so much that I am so proud to join. But obviously, much like with ‘Wicked,’ there is a sense of responsibility. And if I can match half of what Jeff and Sam Neill and Laura Dern achieved, I’ll be very lucky.”

Goldblum starred as the beloved chaos theory mathematician Dr. Ian Malcolm in 1993’s “Jurassic Park,” reprising the role for the 1997 sequel “The Lost World: Jurassic Park” and again in 2018’s “Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom” and 2022’s “Jurassic World Dominion.”

Bailey will star alongside Scarlett Johansson and Mahershala Ali in the 31-year-old “Jurassic” franchise’s seventh film. “Five years after the events of ‘Jurassic World Dominion,’ the planet’s ecology has proven largely inhospitable to dinosaurs,” an official summary reads. “Those remaining exist in isolated equatorial environments with climates resembling the one in which they once thrived. The three most colossal creatures within that tropical biosphere hold the key to a drug that will bring miraculous life-saving benefits to humankind.”

Bailey and Goldblum don’t actually share the screen in “Wicked, out Nov. 22, as Bailey’s Fiyero is charming the pants off every student at Shiz University while Goldblum’s Wizard of Oz is busy running the show in the Emerald City.

“At the beginning, you want to just relish the full essence of his charm and easy flow, as it were,” Bailey says, adding that Fiyero’s proclivity to flirt with men and women alike was just another way to bring nuance to the Winkie prince. “As a character, I ascertained that he’s confident and in himself, and he’s kind enough to invite anyone to Winkie town.”

“Heart-throbby! Heart-throbby!” Goldblum excitedly adds. But Bailey argues that the Wizard is actually the real charmer of the film. “He’s the OG rizz king,” Bailey says with a laugh, prompting Goldblum to burst into song again: this time, it’s “(They Long to Be) Close to You,” which Bailey enthusiastically joins him in.

As for his wizardly inspiration, Goldblum says he didn’t take any cues from modern day leaders in crafting the great and powerful leader. “This was written and devised well before any of our current landscape, but it’s a timeless story,” he says. “It’s always fallen to individual people who seek the truth and find their power and find out that, just like ‘Horton Hears a Who,’ one person of effectiveness can move the whole ship of state and keep things going toward an ideal and perfect country and world where we have a planet that works for everyone.”

Source

[dimmadoome]

Yall will do anything but actually take responsibility for what you've created. Fanon is literally that. Canon crested by fans. They're all headcanons created by you, yes. Literally you, the person reading this that has written fanfic and drawn comics and posted your essays. You are the people writing stories and sharing art and making tumblr posts. Each an every person on here, commenting on my post outraged that I like the collicteve works of yourself had had a hand in creating fanon just by existing in the fandom. You all speak with such derison about yourselves and its actually making me laugh.

You actually can find fanon from people of color. Many many different ways. From discord servers to tumblr to twitter and beyond. AO3 Is just an archive for writers. It is not the be all end all of fandom. But, while we are talking about AO3.

It is not a streaming service. It is not youtube. The works there are not paid for. They are made by you and me and a billion other people who only want to share their art. THEY ARE YOUR PEERS, NOT A CONGLOMERATE. This whole response makes it sound like you're all complaining about the fucking disney channel queerbaiting you again. If YOU want more Babs stories. Write them. You dont want racist tropes in your fanfiction? Well howdy do you've already proven you can both write and post to the internet just by responding to this post. Write. Create. Build. Just like the rest of us normal people did when we added onto the fandom. If you want Cass to be more present in stories, write those. Jesus christ yall. This is YOUR baby you're trying to throw out with the bathwater.

At the end of the day, you need to step back and realize that if someone is telling you they like your work and the community you built with your own bare hands. Maybe say, hell yeah. Im glad you like it, instead of acting like you're above your own hard damn work.

Also. As a side note. Im an indigenous trans person. I understand what it means to desperately want to see representation for me and to know that i will likely never be able to make it a reality in any canon works. I find that fanon is more likely to be written by people of color, disabled people and queer people than canon will ever be. Fandom is a bigger and more diverse collective than canon. Which makes me love it more. Because I can have my voice heard. Because you can have your voice heard.

Its new and its beautiful and its ever changing and its so, so much better than almost 100 years of writers having to sanitize themselves for the capitalist elite who need every batboy to look the same and cant let gay characters exist without making it tragic or retconning it every two seconds.

In the end all I can say is this

Fanon is beautiful.

Fanon has more for me than canon does. Likely, if you are not white, not straight, not cis or not able bodied, it also has more for you than canon ever will.

You all deserve to love your community too. If there are racists. Well fuck man, do what everyone else is doing by drowning them out with your own, obviously not problematic the sligtest, content. So go. Fix what youre complaing about. But realize that you are part of the problem. You are part of the collective you are angrily decrying and nothing you can say will change anything unless you put your hands to paper and actually start working for the changes you want to see.

Hot take but I prefer fanon Batfam to Canon batfam because at least fanon does its best to give each of the batfam very distinct personalities and looks.

I love living in a world where blue eyed black haired white boy doesn't describe half the group, ya know?

[collapseintonever]

mcr at project revolution in charlotte, nc. august 8 2007. photos by buttertooth on livejournal. picture commentary under the cut

pic 2:

When MCR first came out onstage, Gerard strutted on like he was all badass with a black bandana on his face. For some reason, he reminded me of an anime cartoon character when he was wearing that. Anyway, the decision to wear the bandana came back to bite him in the ass later because he couldn't get it to untie from his neck when he realized how ridiculously fucking hot it was out there. I didn't realize it was still around his neck but he made a comment about it between songs when he was trying to catch his breath. Haha. Oh well, everything can't always go perfectly, right?

Anyway, since the picture of him (that I tried to take) with the bandana turned out all blurry and awful, here is a picture of Gerard just after he took it off. Might I point out how foxy his hair looks. Hooray for Gerard not looking like a mad scientist when I saw them perform!

Gerard made multiple comments on the heat, but you know what? He sort of deserved being hot since he was out there in his JACKET! It's a wonder he didn't pass out. He did spend a lot of the time lying on the stage or sitting. Early in their set (maybe three or so songs in?) he said something to the effect of (this is NOT a direct quote, just a paraphrase) "I was going to say something later about guys taking their shirts off, but, fuck it, it's too hot. Go ahead and take them off now." Then when they got to "Prison" he said it again about just the guys taking off their shirts and that he didn't care what size you are, you're still attractive. Gotta love Gerard and how he tries to make the fans feel good about themselves. I think he was just trying to charm the guys out of their clothes, though, really. He stressed that only the guys should take their shirts off and swing them around their heads. I think some guy threw his shirt up there and he picked it up and swung it around, but it could've been a rag or something. It was a black cloth of some kind, anyway. And of course, someone threw the obligatory feather boa up there, and Gerard put it on. I swear, Gerard must be crazy because he's in a jacket, singing his lungs out, on a stage with PYRO in the 103-degree heat for fuck's sake and he puts one of those itchy feather boas on.

pic 3 & 4: Unfortunately, these were the only two pics that had Ray in them since he stayed wayyyyy over on his side and I couldn't see him. But his playing and singing was amazing as usual!

pic 5: Right before the pyro came on Gerard said "Shit!" which I took to mean that he knew it was about to happen and he didn't want to feel the heat. I could be wrong, but that's what it seemed like.

pic 6: Towards the end of the concert Gerard said (again just a paraphrase because i didn't get it all, unfortunately!) that he was sweaty and nasty and everyone should "make some noise" because of it. I love MCR and all of the band members, genuinely I do, but if Gerard didn't take a shower after that concert, he is officially a nasty motherfucker. :P

Frank was a little more sensible with his attire, since he was wearing a sleeveless shirt. He flopped down at one point and it just looked like he was hating the heat.

On the second song (which I managed to get video of! Woot Woot!) Frank's guitar string broke (I think that's what inspired his fit of rage) so he smashed up his guitar. Then he picked up the one with the zombie on it and started playing again. The picture above came after he smashed up the first guitar.

pic 7: When he came down to my end of the stage, I could see that Gerard had something written on his neck again. I think it said "Truth" but it could just as well have said "Truce" because I could only see the first three letters. I don't know why it would say "Truce," but it could've (ETA: I read a review somewhere that it did indeed say "Truth". Stil havent seen any pics of it though). I tried to get a picture of his neck, but it came out blurry. Boo! Hiss! If anyone else has proof of what it said, I'd love to see the photo.

pic 8-10: And for those of you out there wondering, there was some mild Frank/Gerard action going on. By the time it happened, I had already used up all my video space and could only take photos. But the good news is that my camera has a photo burst option which lets you take three photos in a row. They're not the best photos ever, but I did get the shots when Frank walked past Gerard and grabbed Gerard's crotch. And I got Gerard's reaction to it. It happened really quickly so it was easy to miss.

pic 11: Oh and about halfway through, Frank put either a shirt over his head (one of the one's that got thrown onstage when Gerard told the guys in the audience to take their shirts off), presumably to mop up the sweat, but maybe he just wanted to be a weirdo. In the first photo it looks like Frank is smelling his armpits but really he's trying to wrap the cloth around his head.

pic 12-14: He played with the cloth over his head for most of the song.

pic 15: Gerard singing and Bob drumming away…

pic 16: Just Gerard…

pic 17-18: Frank taking a sip of water in the dark… …then spitting it on the audience. It didn't land on me. Not to sound horridly grungy or anything, but I kinda wished the water would've landed on me because I would've welcomed anything that would help cool me off at that point.

pic 19: Frank and Matt in the same stance. And yes, Matt, Frank does have a nice ass.

pic 20: Gerard pointing….

pic 21: And now for a little Matt Cortez: Gerard said he's got "arms of steel" and he ain't lyin'…

pic 22: Matt Cortez, being awesome. Gerard even gave a shout out to him and walked by and ruffled his hair…

pic 24: Matt's back…

pic 25: Matt's so cool, you can see through him!

[naomijoestar]

helloo!! Hope you're doing well, I just saw your Narancia hcs about him being a stay at home dad and it's so gosh darn cute, aghh!!! If you could, do you think you could do hcs of him being a dad in general?

Knowing his past and how empathetic he can be, he would be such a great dad, it's just plain adorable thinking about it 😭

Masterlist here <3

Hello! I’m doing well what about you? Narancia as a dad would be so wholesome and heartwarming. His past would absolutely shape him into being a compassionate and attentive parent. I just adore him <33

Also I deeply apologize for the late reply, I hope you enjoy this! :)

Narancia as a father general headcanons

- Given his childhood and how much he was hurt by abandonment and betrayal, Narancia would want his child to feel safe at all times. He’d always keep an eye out but wouldn’t smother them, knowing how important independence is

- If his kid ever faced struggles, Narancia would be the first to remind them that they’re never alone. He’d be the kind of dad who sits with his kid for hours, helping them solve their problems, no matter how small

- Narancia has the vibe of a dad who’s always up for playtime, whether it’s a water gun fight in the yard, building pillow forts, or dancing to music in the living room. He’d match his child’s energy, no matter how exhausted he might secretly feel

- While he might not be the best chef, Narancia would insist on making meals with his kid. He’d let them crack the eggs, stir the sauce, or taste-test everything. “You think this needs more salt? No? Okay, Chef, I trust you.”

- Narancia would be incredibly in tune with his kid’s emotions. If they ever felt sad, he’d immediately know and do whatever it takes to make them smile—whether it’s cracking jokes, snuggling, or just listening

- Having faced hardships himself, he’d encourage his child to be brave but would remind them that it’s okay to cry or lean on others. He’d balance teaching them strength and vulnerability beautifully

- Even if life gets busy, Narancia would make sure family comes first. Movie nights, trips to the beach, or just lying in bed talking about their day would be a non-negotiable routine

- From macaroni art to acing a test, Narancia would hype his kid up like they just won an Olympic gold medal. He’d show off their work to everyone with a huge grin, saying, “Look what my kid made/did!”

- If anyone ever tried to hurt or belittle his child, Narancia wouldn’t hesitate to stand up for them. His protective side would kick in full force, but he’d also teach his kid how to handle conflict

- Narancia might not be super book-smart, but he’d find creative ways to teach his kid life lessons. Whether it’s through music, stories, or practical demonstrations, he’d make learning fun and memorable

I hope this meets your expectations <3 If you’d like anything specific added/changed message me and I’ll fix it!

If you enjoyed this make sure to check out my other posts, and if you’d like anything specific written for a jjba character/squad you can request it if my requests are open!

[princess-of-the-corner]

God I forgot about Qilin. Cool asfk akuma, arguably one of Gabes best designs, dragged down by the fucking ticket inspection and bringing in the goddamn army. (As well as how the episode felt like it was written avid ACAB Enthusiasts)

my problem with the episode is that it's a bit all over the place in a few spots like.

Firstly take this with a grain of salt because I'm white af

Okay. This is supposed to be an episode about racism and the cops being harder on minorities. But it doesn't.... come across that?

The ticket inspector was initially doing his job. Sabine didn't have a bus ticket. Yes it's because Mari got off the previous stop with the tickets, but if he handwaved everyone who said 'oh I totally bought a ticket but I lost it'.......

Now he does get unreasonable after that, accusing her of being hostile, having her arrested instead of just printing a ticket, etc. But this is also a show where the 'you seem to have broken a law so you immediately get arrested' is not out of place. (I mean sometimes it is BUT it's a 'what works for the story' thing). Doubly so as the target audience is children who sometimes do think 'oh god oh god I sneaked one extra candy they're gonna send a full swat team and arrest me and I'm gonna go to jail!!'.

Then you have the whole thing of literally all the cops showing up for one lady and then the Akuma and then the cops ignoring LB and CN in favor of blasting the Akuma with weaponry despite months of the Heroes handling this on their own. Which at first seems out of place until you remember episodes like Rogercop where all the cops weren't mind controlled they just went 'yeah I guess the obviously Akumatized(controlled by supervillain) cop in a mech suit is in charge because the mayor, who he kidnapped, said so. Time to arrest the Heroes!!". So while it hasn't happened in a while, cops just acting Like That™ aren't out of place in this world.

And like. The ticket inspector is a rando who is only seen here going against Sabine, but we have no idea how he'd act with a white guy breaking the same law. And Roger has been shown to be corrupt as hell toward white people(specifically the Couffaines who as far as we know are white). So it doesn't quite get the message across that this is out of the norm.

Then you have Marinette having to apologize to the ticket inspector who, at this point, is now much more reasonable of 'well she did technically break the law by riding the bus without ticket or ID, but given the circumstances we'll let it go' but Mari insists on paying the fine like he was in the right.

Honestly I feel like this episode suffers from not being direct about what the issue is. Yes it's implied that it's a racism thing, yes most of the audience including the kids will probably pick it up. But when you give that much wiggle room on 'what is motivating this character's actions', then combine it both with stuff that's /supposed/ to be extreme but is par for the course in the series and the protagonist apologizing to the guy who instigated all of this.... it gets very mixed and it can get lost and make people who do see the allegories wonder if they're just reading too much into things.

And I don't know exactly where to place the blame on. Did the writers pull back to try and make the situation more 'relatable to everyone' thus making it relate to no one? Was it a bigger thing of the studio or S&P saying 'hey you can't depict real racism in a kids' show'?

I mean either way there's some blame on the writers for the other flaws like Mari apologizing and undercutting anything the ticket inspector did wrong. But still.

[ebenelephant]

I would also like to note that the way fandom treats Lupin's class is often... not great.

I'll caveat this by saying that iirc it's very subtly implied in the books that he may only have become impoverished in adulthood (which isn't important for this discussion) and also that JKR's handling of class with the Weasley's in canon is also pretty bad (which is). She gets many class dynamics/relations down pretty well in terms of snobbishness and classism, but the Weasley family are just not well written as an example of a family on the breadline, which is what they ostensibly are.

This – not all the time, but definitely some of the time – translates to Marauders fic as well. And maybe that's just my view as someone with a better understanding of the British class system as a UK-resident than many individuals might have, but still it bears pointing out that often representation of poor/impoverished/working class characters in fanfiction (and fiction as a whole tbh) can often be classist. Especially when adding in the angle of a character being abused or orphaned, which is on the rise with Remus.

Often, it feels like Remus's class situation is for purely aesthetic purposes. Authors will talk about how insecure his old clothes make him, and Sirius will buy him a jumper. They'll make him just so starving hungry in the summers, but give only the most surface-level introspection of food insecurity, if any. He will be toughened and hardened by his time in care/on the streets/living in poverty/whatever in a way that really only leans into the stereotype that working class people are rude and unpleasant because they are working class, even though he is implied to be impoverished and possibly homeless in the books and is none of that. It's set dressing.

Snape is often rewritten as coming from a better station. Maybe they ignore that he grew up mostly muggle, or maybe they lean into the 'Prince' aspect and write him inheriting from a rich uncle or something. If not, his poverty is sort of just not addressed in a lot of Marauders fic. Again, this is anecdotal: I've seen some really interesting depictions of him before even in fics that otherwise bash on him, but the fact is that in the fics where the author clearly dislikes the character, this is rarely the case.

Snape's childhood is ugly. Coming from what is implied to be a dying Northern industrial town, he would've come into his majority over the Winter of Discontent, spent his early adulthood far away from the home that may well have been suffering under Thatcher's Britain. Maybe his dad was a union man. Maybe there was strike action and violence in his home town. Maybe it all simply faded away to nothingness and left everyone on the dole while politicians harped on about the unemployed draining government funds. Maybe his dad hit him. It's implied that the Snape household was tumultuous and loud, and didn't feel safe. It's implied that Eileen was cold and distant. And Tobias, as a man in a dying industrial town who shouted at his wife and scared his kid, this conjures and image in the mind of many Brits. Maybe that's lost somewhat to an international audience, I don't know.

The thing is, that when Snape's poverty is overlooked almost entirely and Remus's is both exaggerated and somehow made completely toothless by fandom, both instances are classist.

Alright, let’s dive into the dumpster fire that the Marauders fandom has become last years and threw any sense of canon or character integrity out the window. Because let’s be real, the way this fandom has twisted the characters of the Marauders and the Death Eaters, all while turning Severus Snape into some one-note “creepy stalker,” is embarrassing. The fandom seems obsessed with scrubbing characters clean, romanticizing abusers, inventing tragic backstories for literal sociopaths, and piling up headcanons that turn a few lines in canon into fully fleshed-out, fanon-only OCs. And somehow, the only character who gets relentlessly dragged and demonized is Severus Snape—a character who has actual complexity and trauma. It’s hypocritical, classist, and downright gross.

Let’s start with Severus. Canon Snape is a guy who came from nothing: poor background, abusive father, dead-end town. He didn’t fit into the wizarding world, was relentlessly bullied by privileged Marauders, and still somehow managed to survive and make something of himself. But instead of acknowledging any of that, the fandom loves to reduce him to this “creepy obsessive” stereotype. People act like he spent every waking moment pining for Lily and never did anything else, as if that’s all his character is. Never mind the fact that he was actively trying to get out of a miserable life, or that he was, you know, bullied on a daily basis by James and Sirius, who had wealth, status, and freedom to do whatever they wanted. Nope, to the Marauders fandom, Snape is just the “weird stalker”—because acknowledging his struggles would mean admitting that their golden boys were actually kind of awful.

Meanwhile, the same people are out here bending over backward to make people like Barty Crouch Jr., Evan Rosier, and Regulus Black look like misunderstood anti-heroes. Let’s be clear: in canon, Barty Crouch Jr. was a straight-up torturer, Evan Rosier died laughing as he fought Aurors, and Regulus was a kid raised with a silver spoon who only started doubting Voldemort when he realized he’d been signed up as snake chow. But no, fanon has turned these guys into “tragic, complex Slytherins” who were “just trying to survive.” It’s like they’re desperate for some tortured prince narrative, so they invent personalities out of thin air to give us this dreamy aesthetic of sad, beautiful Death Eaters who “didn’t really want to be evil.” Apparently, actually following the text is too much to ask when you’ve got fanon fantasies to uphold.

Regulus Black, in particular, has become this absurd fanon martyr. In canon, Regulus was a kid indoctrinated into pureblood ideology, who joined the Death Eaters without much hesitation. Maybe he had a change of heart eventually, but it wasn’t out of some grand moral revelation; he just realized Voldemort’s loyalty was to himself alone. Yet, according to the current fandom, Regulus is some misunderstood hero who was only “pretending” to go along with Voldemort and was “forced” into his choices. They’ve built this tragic romance around a character who, in the actual books, doesn’t have even half this depth. This Regulus in fanon is practically an OC at this point, and people cling to this made-up version of him so hard that they’ll defend it like it’s canon. It’s hilarious, and it’s also just plain wrong.

And let’s talk about the Marauders themselves. In canon, James and Sirius were rich, spoiled brats who spent their school years bullying anyone who didn’t fit into their world. They were kids with every privilege, and they used it to torment people like Snape, who had nothing. But the Marauders’ fandom has turned them into these fluffy, “good-hearted” rebels who just made “a few mistakes.” I’m sorry, but nearly killing someone as a “prank” is a bit more than a mistake. Yet people will ignore that or wave it away as “boys will be boys” just to keep up the illusion that James and Sirius were lovable scamps. It’s maddening—and it’s also classist as hell. They erase all the ugly realities of the Marauders’ behavior and then turn around and judge Snape for being “obsessive” and “weird” when he was just trying to survive in a world stacked against him.

The classism in this fandom is so blatant it’s laughable. Snape is written off as creepy and unworthy of sympathy because he didn’t have a cushy upbringing or the social standing to make him likable. Meanwhile, characters like Barty and Regulus, who came from wealthy pureblood families, get excused and romanticized to no end. It’s like the fandom is saying, “Well, Snape deserved it because he was poor and awkward, but the rich kids? They’re just misunderstood.” It’s the kind of privilege blindness that makes you wonder if people actually read the books or if they’re just projecting their own biases onto the characters.

And let’s not forget the army of new OCs the Marauders fandom has invented just to justify this headcanon universe (Mary, Marlene, Dorcas, that that Pandora no one knows why suddenly appears here lol) You’ve got random “best friends” for Sirius, unnamed Slytherins who magically have no ties to pureblood supremacy, and love interests for Regulus who supposedly saw the “real” him. All these characters are based on nothing more than a few throwaway lines, yet people have fleshed them out to a level that they’re practically new characters in the universe. It’s like they need this entourage of made-up people to back up their version of the Marauders and Death Eaters because, without them, their headcanons would fall apart. And all of this, while they keep painting Snape as this creepy loner with no real friends or worth. The hypocrisy is unreal.

At the end of the day, the Marauders fandom has taken a bunch of characters with clear flaws and complexities and rewritten them into these sanitized, tortured souls while dumping all their scorn onto Snape. They’ll go out of their way to redeem a literal torturer like Barty Crouch Jr. or turn Regulus into some tragic hero, but they can’t bring themselves to even consider Snape’s trauma or the systematic abuse he endured. It’s all about maintaining this fantasy where their favorite characters are perfect and untouchable, even if it means twisting canon and ignoring the ugly truths about class, privilege, and abuse that is reflected into the story. And that, honestly, just makes the fandom look shallow, hypocritical, and completely disconnected from the reality.