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the-crooked-library · 2 months ago

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Creative Lineage - Dracula, Orlok, and the others

Here's the thing: the relationship between Nosferatu and Dracula is incredibly interesting - especially considering that Nosferatu (1922) was based on Dracula the book (1897), and most subsequent visual adaptations of Dracula for some reason used aspects of that film as inspiration, instead of adapting the original novel directly. As a result, there have always been endless comparisons between the two; but, in light of our most recent Nosferatu (2024), I must expand on what I personally think is their most significant (in regards to both plot development and analysis) difference.

TL;DR: it's characters. The main source of divergences between Dracula and Nosferatu is that these stories consist of vastly dissimilar characters, stuck in relatively similar situations.

I could go into heavy detail, and I will - under the cut, for the sake of all our dashboards.

At first glance, the stories of Dracula and Nosferatu are almost identical. The beginning sections follow the same essential plot beats - a young, newlywed solicitor travels to a creepy castle in Eastern Europe to assist a reclusive Count in his immigration to the West. This Count is, in fact, a vampire (otherwise known as a nosferatu), and terrorizes the young man for weeks, before departing and leaving him imprisoned; the solicitor escapes, is rescued from the wilderness by a nunnery, and returns home - where the Count has already begun his murderous process of settling in.

Here, in my opinion, is where the similarities end.

The key to understanding Nosferatu is remembering that Orlok is not Dracula; Thomas is not Jonathan; Ellen is not Mina, and so forth; and despite the mutual inspirations that affect each film adaptation of either story, the characters never react to the plot as a viewer would expect, if their precursory experience has been limited to only one or the other version.

Naturally, there are reasons for the continued addition of Nosferatu elements to Dracula adaptations. The most prominent of them is that, quite simply, audiences enjoy a fated, dangerous, inadvisable monster romance. By and large, we are titillated by the taboo; and - without adapting Le Fanu's Carmilla (1872), or adding a vampiric element to an adaptation of Leroux's The Phantom of the Opera (1910), or expanding on the queer elements of Jonathan Harker's sojourn in Transylvania - the easiest piece of classic media to sample for this sort of theme is Nosferatu (1922).

The 1922 film was, in a sense, an adaptation of Bram Stoker's Dracula (at least, enough to get the creators sued by his estate). In its efforts to circumvent copyright laws, it plays fast and loose with Stoker's lore and characters, renaming the Harkers, the Count, and everyone else - and, crucially, adding an element of erotic fixation that the vampire develops upon seeing a portrait of his solicitor's young wife. While still overseas, he builds a psychic connection with the melancholy and sensitive Ellen; it is both horrifying and sensual, and ultimately what she uses to destroy him - sacrificing her own blood and life to keep him out of his coffin until cock-crow. Ellen dies, but the sunlight annihilates Count Orlok, and the ending is a bittersweet new dawn.

This fixated, possessive, murderous eroticism (first displayed in its currently recognizable form by Carmilla) has become a cornerstone of the vampire genre. Elements of it are recognizable even in relatively modern media like Interview with the Vampire, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Twilight, as well as numerous Dracula adaptations (of which the 1992 Coppola film might be the most well-known); it is even present in other, indirect offshoots like NBC's Hannibal TV series. It is, therefore, essential to note that these overtones did not exist in the same way in Dracula the novel; and the reason for that is, specifically, a difference in character.

Count Dracula, while dangerous, vampiric, and psychic, does not possess that same singular fascination with any given character in Stoker's book (save perhaps for Jonathan Harker, temporarily). He does drain Lucy night after night, and his method of killing, like with all vampires of his type, is allegorically sexual; but it isn't personal. She keeps receiving blood transfusions - effectively, refills!.. Other than her blood, he has little interest in her. He has companionship enough already - after all, he lives with three female vampires, who may be courtesans or wives, but are colloquially referred to as Vampire Brides; and, additionally, he maintains ongoing communication with some of the people and animals that live on his land. As such, when he does bite Jonathan's wife Mina, it is a practical decision - made in order to establish a potential spy in a group of people who appear to be intent on hunting him down.

Similarly, Mina herself - despite the usual characterization of her film portrayals, which are in many ways epitomized by Coppola's 1992 version - was not originally a vulnerable maiden. She is confident and educated, she has worked for a living as an educator prior to her marriage, and she knows how to use a typewriter as well as shorthand. She has no emotional connection to Dracula whatsoever beyond pure incandescent hatred; and, frankly, forcing her into any sort of romance with him is deeply inaccurate to her character - because Mina Harker is endlessly in love with her husband Jonathan.

They may be on the lower end of middle-class, but relatively stable and planning a life together - not only as husband and wife, but as solicitor and secretary, as well. It's as close to a power couple as a novel from the 1890s will approach.

This is not the case for Ellen Hutter, largely because her social circumstances are far more precarious.

Unlike Mina, she has been forcibly isolated for the majority of her life. In that, she is yet another in the line of tragic madwomen of the gothic genre - mostly due to her eccentricities and her psychic gift, which (as the Eggers version specifies) manifested early in her childhood and became socially inexcusable during her teenage years, much like any real-world form of neurodivergence. It is implied that she has been institutionalized at some point as a result; and even prior to that, her father kept her confined indoors and away from other people in efforts to control her.

This isolation is what originally leads to her connection with Orlok - who was woken from his centuries-long deathlike sleep when he heard her reaching out into the ether, begging for a friend. Then, later in her life, the same circumstances unfortunately have a direct effect on her relationship with her husband Thomas, too; while she is attached to him, she cannot ignore that she is also utterly dependent on him as her ticket to a stable life, as well as out from under her father's thumb. Again, unlike Mina, she has no marketable skills or opportunities outside of this marriage; and while Thomas never shames her for her past, he still pressures her to ignore and repress it. The manifestations of her psychic ability concern, then unsettle, then frighten him - and, ultimately, there is a transactional aspect to their union. Thomas expects himself to move ahead in the world, like his friend Friedrich; and Ellen is expected to eventually become normal. She is expected to become a happy, pretty wife and mother like Anna Harding - because, while Thomas cares for her and fully intends to provide for her, he refuses to actually understand her.

Furthermore, it must be noted that leaving her father's estate for her husband's house did not entirely save Ellen from her isolation. Unlike Mina, she has no real friends of her own. Her only friend in the 2024 film is Anna, her husband's best friend's wife; and in the 1922 original, even that tentative affection is unclear. As such, Orlok remains the only character that truly knows and accepts her as she is - which inevitably complicates their dynamic.

While Orlok is, by his own admission, incapable of a human love, he is overwhelmingly and exclusively obsessed with Ellen. Unlike Dracula, who even in death keeps the company of his women and his people, Orlok exists in utter solitude. Prior to his death, he was also heavily avoided due to his being in "covenant with the devil." The 2024 film especially makes it clear that Ellen's call, which woke him from his slumber, is exceptional; their connection is intensely personal, and it is as close to love as he can ever feel.

This aspect of the vampire's characterization fundamentally alters the context of his behaviour throughout the film. While Dracula moved to England in search of new hunting grounds and little else, Orlok goes to Germany specifically to find Ellen. By marrying Thomas Hutter, she broke the covenant she made with Orlok in her youth; thus, knowing that his claim has been infringed upon, the Count makes contact with Hutter's real estate law firm, summons him to the Carpathians, crosses the sea, and arrives to Wisborg as a physical manifestation of every dark urge and ability she has been attempting to repress. He torments her husband, tricks him into signing a marriage annulment, plagues the city, and murders the Hardings - all of it for her. She is his unique and all-consuming motivation. Again and again, he insists upon their covenant, reminding her that she has never truly belonged to the human world, and he is not incorrect in his assessment. Ellen's surrounding society infantilizes and binds her, often literally. She has nothing to lose by leaving it, except for her own sense of morality; and that is why Orlok, who represents her own abnormality, remains a beautiful, nightmarish temptation.

The other characters diverge from Stoker's just as much.

Thomas Hutter has little in common with Jonathan Harker beyond his choice in career and his time at a vampire's castle. Despite his careful attachment to his wife, he does not actually take her opinions into consideration when he plans their life - he prioritizes his social and financial advancements, which are of no interest to her, and which he sees as his duties to her and to himself; and, when she exhibits any of her unusual or melancholic traits, he does his best to try and move past them as quickly as possible. He does not experience the same attraction to the horror that she does; he cannot bring himself to understand it; and both in 1922 and in 2024, he is also largely oblivious to her eccentricities, gifting her flowers despite the fact that she does not like to see them picked and dying in a vase. That is a far cry from Jonathan - who knows his wife's love of train schedules, who is practicing shorthand with her, and who is willing to join her in cursed, godforsaken undeath when faced with the possibility of her turning. Ultimately, Thomas exists too firmly within the same societal constraints that Ellen abhors, and their relationship has none of the foundation that is unshakably shared by Jonathan and Mina.

At the same time, while the Anna is a parallel to Lucy, and her husband is a corresponding Arthur, the Hardings (once again) have no particular commonality with them. Their characterization remains undeveloped in the original 1922 film - and while Eggers does grant them some definition, it is still in no way similar to Stoker's.

Stoker's Lucy is a charming, cheerful, flirty, and a little coquettish young girl; she exists on the cusp of womanhood and marriage, and her pre-vampire arc revolves around her choice between three almost-equally delightful suitors. She adores and idolizes Mina, she is childishly excited about her future; and in these things, she is very different from Anna, who is already married, a mother of two with one on the way - and who does care for Ellen, but in a motherly, rather than girlish, fashion.

Her husband, too, is quite different from Arthur Holmwood.

In 2024, Friedrich Harding is - above all else - the film's personification of the trap that is patriarchy. He is the epitome of what a man is expected to be: a successful business owner with a pretty blonde wife and 2.5 kids (I thought Anna's pregnancy was very much on the nose. Quite literally, 2.5 kids!). He is generous, he cares for his family, and he is firmly Rational. On the surface, Harding appears to be an ideal made flesh; and as the film progresses, it becomes evident that this ideal is designed to crumble.

Much of Harding's rationality is heavily hypocritical. While he claims to be making all his decisions based on pure logic, Ellen's - an outsider's - perspective exposes the truth behind his motivations. He ignores her warnings because he does not like her and considers her impudent; he kicks his own sick best friend out of his house with only his similarly sick wife to care for him, because he is annoyed and unsettled by their references to the supernatural; he refuses to listen to Von Franz and ignores the danger his family is in, because he is frightened of losing them to something he cannot comprehend, rather than a mundane, potentially treatable illness. All of these decisions are emotional, rooted in his misogyny and closed-mindedness - and so, Harding loses his daughters, his wife, his unborn son, as well as the unflappable, rational facade he had been so carefully maintaining. He ends the film a wreckage of himself, having committed necrophilia with the corpse of his wife because he was emotionally, irrationally unable to let go of her even in death; he dies of the plague that came to Wisborg through his own ship yard, holding her in his arms. Even under the guise of benevolence, his patriarchal worldview undermines and fails him entirely. It is a terrible thrill to watch him fall apart, and the ruin that is left in his place is one of the most obvious illustrations of the story's principal themes.

The other characterizations follow a similar sort of pattern. Sievers, unlike Seward, has no romantic rivalry with Harding; and beyond a professional connection, they are not really friends. Von Franz is far less knowledgeable about vampires than Van Helsing - for the majority of the film, he is stumbling in the dark with the rest of the cast, only finding a way of destroying Orlok in Herr Knock's codex. Knock, too, is far less noble than Renfield - even though he is just as insane as his counterpart, he sees Ellen as an object to be traded for money and power, rather than a kind soul that he would die to protect.

(Quincey Morris, unfortunately, does not exist in Nosferatu. Murnau hadn't found a place for a cowboy in his production; consequently, Eggers could not, either.)

The point is, really, that while Dracula and Nosferatu share a common premise, a comparison between them cannot be made without acknowledging the glaring differences between their characters. For instance, even though Orlok's relationship with Ellen is toxic in the usual vampiric way - part sex, part horror, part possession, part liberation - Thomas is by no means a perfect partner for her, either, because he is not Jonathan Harker, and Ellen is not Mina. Similarly, Von Franz, Sievers, and Harding are not a brave vampire hunting team - they are all blind, each in their own specific way (Von Franz, lacking straightforward knowledge; Sievers, trusting Von Franz without question; Harding, unable to think outside of societal rules). Expecting them to react to their situation the same way as the cast of Dracula is an exercise in futility.

As such, if you do get the chance to see the film again, or if it merely plays in the darkness of your skull when you close your eyes - instead of fixating on the few surface-level similarities between two different vampires and the people they haunt, allow the story of Nosferatu to seduce you on its own terms. Whether it is 1922 or 2024, we, as viewers, deserve its living blood - rather than the shadow of its predecessor.

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lethesbeastie · 11 days ago

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Finally got my visual refs for the Wanderer's Jaws drawn up! My beloved mimic ship and her insatiable appetite for flesh and blood <3

Extra lore and visuals beneath the cut!

Intro to the Wanderer's lore is here. <3

The Wanderer is rather strange for a mimic; beyond her colossal size, her physical adaptations for a fully marine existence show evidence of the possible divergence of mimic subspecies specializing in unusual environments. Her close bond with (and refusal to eat) the people she considers her crew makes her even more of a mystery, though the secrecy with which she is shrouded is well earned. Few encounter the Wanderer and live to tell the tale, and those who do may find it in their best interest to keep such stories and speculations to themselves.

It's well known among her crew that the relationship they have with the mimic is a strange sort of symbiosis; her great size would be unsustainable without their assistance. They protect her from sickness and starvation, and she, in return, guards them from the elements and injury. The ships she sinks at their behest supply the material with which she builds her protective disguise, and the crews of those ships provide her with the nourishment needed to grow and heal from injuries.

Even so, the relationship goes beyond simple convenience. There is a bond shared between them all, an understanding. The Wanderer makes herself vulnerable to her crew, keeps them close beneath the carapace of her wooden hull. Within the sanctuary of her own body she guards them from harm, and cares for them as her own. The loyalty of the crew to their beloved vessel surpass that of most seafaring folks, and for good cause.

Any sailor can learn to love a ship, but it is a rare ship that has learned to love its sailors.

#artists on tumblr #Waters Rising #WR: The Wanderer's Jaws #LETS GO SHES HERE I FINALLY GOT THE REFS DONE FOR MY BELOVED MIMIC SHIP <3 <3 <3

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ennn · 4 months ago

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Recontextualisng the Ballad and Road with the Con and the Hex

I know some folks are upset or disappointed that the Witches' Road here was revealed as the product of Agatha's long con and Billy's Hex magic – that this seems to devalue or invalidate what was being explored about covenhood and sisterhood, or maybe "made it all about a guy".

Here's how I've processed it:

The heart of a good con is a story that rings true

The first version of the Witches' Ballad that Nicky performs for others already has a certain darkness to it. Because even though it was born from their love, the song was used to con and kill witches.

After Nicky's death, Agatha further expands the Ballad for her new deadly long con, adding more flourishes to it, including the mention of "death's hand in mine". It's dark, enticing, powerful, magical. Very much on brand for Agatha Harkness.

What's interesting are the changes between this version and the Sacred Chant version we got in Episode 2. And it's these more recent changes that seem to trip up Agatha with the coven.

For example, the version Agatha used across many years (the one overlaid with her killing witches) does not contain the lines mentioning:

"wake thy power earthly and divine"

"a coven true / two"

" fire, water, earth, and air" – Agatha's earlier version does contain spirit however

I think this speaks to how the Ballad and legend of the Road have gotten away from Agatha. At the heart of the con is a story, and this story has out in the world for centuries.

And it's not like Agatha would have stopped it: For the con to work, the story has to spread. The more witches who know about the Road and the Ballad, the more witches Agatha can target.

But people tend to change the stories they come in contact with, making it their own.

Consider that the story under the long con didn't even come from Agatha: a random witch interpreted the Ballad as a way to get to the Witches' Road, and the Road as an actual place. The con worked because Agatha saw what people wanted, a Road to what they want.

People infuse stories with their own dreams and desires, interpret and transform them to fit with their own lens. That there are apparently multiple versions of the Ballad in the show (more than we see as they mention Lorna's version being the most popular) speaks to this, I think.

The Sacred Chant version of the Ballad is probably a relatively recent attempt by Agatha to update the song she uses given the more modern interpretations of it. She knew about Lorna's version and how popular it is, so I wouldn't be surprised if she pulled elements from that.

So Nicky and Agatha created the Ballad, and Agatha developed it as as a killer con, but over the centuries, I'd say that the Witches' Road has become something bigger than two people.

This lore and ballad has become part of this world's witchy history and culture, reflecting the community's hopes and dreams, beliefs and fears: First with its promise of glory and reward – because that's Agatha's hook – and then thanks to artists like Lorna, with the promise of love that never dies, love that cannot be turned.

So what if the Road doesn't really exist? There are stories that are true that never happened. That doesn't make them less true or important.

It was probably... not helpful that we only get Agatha in full asshole mode addressing this reveal. Her dismissing the song as not meaning anything might be the biggest outright lie she’s ever told, given that the song began with Nicky.

Remember Agatha lies. The Road is not just a con and the song actually means everything, especially to her.

And it is significant that it is the Lorna Wu version of the Ballad – the version Billy is shown listening to – that the Hex Road is built around. It is this version that brings the Ballad back to a place of undying love and family and hope, promising "I'll see you at the end".

We probably wouldn't have gotten the Road we did get if it wasn't for Lorna Wu’s selfless love and sacrifice for her daughter. Because that’s the version Billy connected with. Not the ones Agatha used for her long con.

What's real is what you make of it

So Jac Schaeffer has mentioned that this twist was inspired by The Usual Suspects movie. Not just how the reveal was done – with Agatha framed as the mastermind figure who knew all along (camera wink) and Billy piecing the revelation together from clues with growing horror – but more importantly, how it didn’t detract from how the viewer felt about the characters and what they went through:

When you learn it was all a made-up story, it doesn’t undermine your experience of the movie. You still care about Gabriel Byrne’s character, you still care about Edie, and you care that Fenster died.

Does the Witches' Road being a creation of Billy's chaos magic, led by his subconscious invalidate what the coven went through, what these women and this boy did together?

I don't think it does. Because the experience this coven had was real. Their emotions, decisions, triumphs, lessons learnt, the moments of connection they had with each other — all of it was real to them.

Schaeffer wrote for the Black Widow movie and I'm reminded of the scene where Yelena rejects the idea that her family wasn't real because it was rooted in them being deep undercover:

That wasn't real – who cares. Don't say that. Please don't say that, it was real. It was real to me.

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With the exception of Agatha (and Rio at least by Episode 8) who were aware that the Road was a hex, there was no filter on what the coven took away from the Road.

After all, chaos magic bends reality and creates.

Consider Jen at the end of this journey. She may never know the Road was conjured by Billy and rooted in a con of Agatha's but she did have her arc and incredible growth – to the point where she was committed to saving Agatha as part of her coven in the earth trial.

Jen got her power back and embraces being a witch again, as a sister in the craft, because of their shared experience on the Road.

For Lilia, her divination magic didn't care where the Road came from or what conjured it. Outside the hex, she still had the vision to place a sigil on Billy, and later the vision of her coven – the coven she needed – and their destiny together.

Lilia's beautiful journey, her remembering herself and her power, is still intact.

For Alice, she still discovered the truth about her mother's quest to keep her safe from her curse. And with the help of her coven, Alice did lift her curse. She did let go of her anger and found new peace in with a coven.

All of that is still real and still happened.

Agatha is more complicated because she knew from the start that the Road was a Hex. But this is also a deeply hurt love-starved person who also allowed herself to believe for a brief period that Billy might be Nicky despite all evidence to the contrary, until Rio made it clear otherwise.

Did Agatha genuinely find herself caring about this coven by the end of Episode 4? I think she did. I think the fear of losing Billy that episode was genuine too, as was her regret and remorse for killing Alice, because she did feel the loss of that coven relationship that had just started to form.

Agatha's knowledge of the Hex further explains why she lashes out at Billy after Alice's death, aside from his moralising. The spirit trial was a product of his subconscious after all. It was just set up for tragedy because of how the Hex worked (more on that below).

Ultimately, the bonds these witches did make with each other, them coming together as a coven even for a limited time, did matter I think. Jennifer, Alice, and Lilia had their arcs.

Agatha's is more of a mess – and that's a whole other discussion to go into – but I'd say that she's made progress on her arc. With Jen healing Billy, Alice stepping up to protect her, the earth trial moving her towards acknowledging the indiscriminate nature of death. She did see and feel what a coven could be for her, and she does remember them, and what could have been.

The magic of the Road

I think part of the magic of the Road was how it seemed to have purpose in bringing a coven together. How "the Road changes for the coven". Well uh it still did... just with different mechanics behind the curtain.

As a reference point: Why did Wanda create her Hex? To get a reality where she could have a happy family. Why did Billy create the Road? He immediately needed somewhere to escape the Salem Seven, but ultimately he wanted a way to find Tommy.

Note that it's not like Billy made up a version of Tommy just waiting at the Road. His Hex doesn't have a solution or answer, his Hex manifests a Road to find a way forward.

It helps to contextualise the Road as not only the product of out-of-control magic, this Road is also a manifestation of:

a genuine love and curiosity for witchcraft, including its culture and history (let's not forget Billy is a witch who doesn't have a coven)

a need for family and community

a desire to help others find personal growth or what they are looking for (Billy is a good kid that's been raised by a loving family)

Most importantly, as a telepath Billy isn't creating the Road only for himself or using only his own thoughts: with his mind-reading his subconscious is pulling from the coven members around him.

That's why the trials are designed for the coven members, with the spirit trial being so weird because Billy has trouble reading Agatha's mind. And what does Billy learn at the start of Episode 5 with the Salem Seven reappearing? Agatha killed her own coven and doesn't seem remorseful about it at all.

Safe to say Billy's subconscious did not like that.

I hear Schaeffer has confirmed this thinking in a recent interview with House of R, saying there were deleted lines in Episode 9 with Agatha explaining that the trials were informed by Billy's subconscious mind-reading. Agatha was not a fan of how Billy's subconscious wanted personal growth and team-bonding.

So while we were joking about the Road forcing these witches to get therapy, it actually closer to what was happening than we realised. It just wasn't driven by some mysterious cosmic force or divine entity, but by a kid subconsciously who meant well.

There's perhaps something to be said about how there isn't a magical Road already existing out there for Witches to find themselves.

Unlike sorcerers in the MCU who pull magic from the universe or other dimensions, the magic of witches comes from within.

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #tv: agatha all along #aaa meta #almost 1.9K words woooo

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avelera · 3 months ago

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(Critique) Mel Medarda Should Have Known About Her Latent Magical Ability

Overall, I have very little to complain about with S2 of Arcane, but there's a couple very, very small fixes I'd make as a writer to bring it more in line with how tightly written S1 is. Personally, I think the Arcane team either 1) opted for pacing over exposition in S2, which is a completely valid choice or 2) had some limitations in S1 as far as background lore (they hadn't decided how much to tie it into League yet as canon or as an AU) which is why some elements which are teased in S1 (the Gray, Mel's powers) don't get named or explained.

The reason I think Mel should have known about her latent magical powers from the beginnings is two-fold and based almost entirely in writing principles:

Audiences should be given the tools to at least have a chance to solve the mystery at the same time the characters do

It's more powerful when a character's fate is decided, directly or indirectly, by their own deliberate choices

In the case of point 1, we never really get a hint about Mel having any sort of power until the very last shot before the rocket hits her, there's a slight glow which could easily just be artistic flare.

In the case of point 2, Mel's bloodline is what makes her magical, a choice entirely out of her hands.

Personally, if I could do a few small tweaks to sort of bring Mel's story into focus, this is what I'd do:

Make Mel aware since childhood that she is a bastard who was conceived specifically for magical ability that her mother hoped would give House Medarda the edge against their mage enemies.

Have Mel's abilities not develop when she was a child, thus leading her to believe that the reason she was banished from House Medarda was because she failed her mother and her House (rather than to protect her, which was Ambessa's true goal).

Have Mel's banishment encourage her to become skilled in many other areas, like diplomacy, but still keenly feel the inadequacy of not being the weapon Ambessa wanted. (That way, we the audience have some prayer at correctly predicting what's going on with the glow of her tattoos in the last shot of S1, that she has finally come into her power as a mage during a moment of crisis.)

Make it clearer in the flashback to her childhood that the people Ambessa was fighting then were mages. Then, when the young girl (the "Symbol of the Old Regime") is killed, Mel will feel keenly how it is only her own bloodline that keeps her mother from killing her as well, making her question her safety and loyalties.

Let her talk to Jayce about how she grew up believing she had magical abilities, only to never have them develop. It would give her and Jayce one more thing to bond over, since he almost certainly wished he had innate power too after the Wizard saved him, hence why he turned to artificial means to develop the magic he could never develop genetically. (And oh, the irony of the fact the Wizard didn't have it either, it was always Viktor and Jayce gave him that power.)

Have Hextech be the thing that awakens Mel's powers. This one in particular drives me crazy. Mel is the first investor in Hextech, the first believer in it besides Jayce and Viktor. Have exposure to Hextech be something that magically changes her too, because of her deliberate, purposeful choices. Have her choices be why she is "touched by the Arcane." It's heavily implied but never stated or resolved that Hextech is wearing thin the veil between Arcane and reality in Piltover. Mel's close involvement with it should be the thing that triggered her latent powers, because then it's a deliberate action on her part that leads her to being kidnapped by the Rose once her powers awaken. It's no longer a coincidence caused by Jinx's rocket that developed her powers all at once.

By having proximity to Hextech be the thing that awakens Mel's powers, it also brings her story in line with the themes of the show, "Everyone's choices get them what they wanted, but not what they needed." All her life now, Mel wanted to develop the power her mother literally bore her to have. Now she has it and it's horrifying, and alien to her, and has changed the course of her life. In the end, she becomes Head of House Medarda with all the innate power she always dreamed of and it tastes like ashes in her mouth, because she needed to kill her mother to achieve it, and she must leave the city she loves and the independent life she crafted by her own hands behind, in what becomes a tragedy rather than random chance.

It also makes the mirrors and foils of Mel vs. Viktor much clearer. Jayce, in his desire to become the Wizard who saved him as a child through artificial means, has instead turned his two closest loved ones into the powerful mages he wanted to be. As it is, it seems coincidental that Jayce happened to pull two godlike powerful beings, which is unsatisfying, rather than it being the product of all of three of their deliberate choices to become involved with Hextech and how it changes the trio as a result.

It also reframes her support for Hextech weapons at first and then her opposition to it and her mother using Hextech as a weapon. At first, Mel wants to be a Medarda and make her mother proud, she feels keenly her own lack of magic and her inability to be the weapon her mother wanted, but Hextech promises to give magic to the people in a way she and Jayce both keenly feel because they can't access magic genetically. But once Mel develops her powers because of her exposure to Hextech "radiation", and learns how dangerous Hextech/magic can be through conversations with Jayce and seeing its impact on Piltover, she can now, as a mage, change her mind on the subject and decide to stand in opposition to her mother because this power is too dangerous to weaponize.

Again, I think the reason they didn't make this through-line more obvious was because they probably just didn't know what direction they wanted to take Mel in in S1, and then they decided to give her powers as well and it had to be some big secret birthright that got sprung on her to explain why she didn't know in S1. But it makes the story just a smidge less satisfying because the characters feel moved about by fate instead of by their own choices.

#mel medarda #arcane #arcane meta #arcane critical #but not really it's a fairly mild critique and I think they would have done something along these lines if they could have

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solarockk · 1 month ago

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can we know more about the bitter water au pls

im gonna rewrite here some lore dump from twt fjdhgh that i forgot to post here

the au does contain some horror and psycological elements! (mostly eldritch horror, grief/mourning and amnesia) also pls don't tag Gem and Pearl under this au, even if it doesn't break boundaries I'd prefer if it stayed in fandom spaces only. (I'm not sure how it works here on tumblr so please let me know if the shinyduo tag is fine to use or not, for the characters I'm gonna tag them as bw!NameOfCharacters mostly for organization)

now, for actual lore!

as the original post impliy the main story of the au centers around Shinyduo, sailing, and the horror of what lies beneath the waves

Gem currently works as a Fisherwoman at the minor port of Hermitopia, She owns a small fishing boat that Bdubs and Cleo fixed up for Her (Etho helped too but don't tell anyone that) and she makes just enough money from selling what she memages to reel in from the ocean to enjoy her simple frugal life in the small port.

her daily life changes drastically when one day out at sea she finds and unconcious Pearl floating among the waves, Gem fishes her out of the water in an hurry and is a little weirded out that Pearl (once awake) is completelly fine after spending gods knows how long lost at sea. Well, except the fact that she seems to not remember anything about her life except Gem's own name. (drawn here! "first meeting")

that is the basic premise, a silly Amnesiac trying to regain her memories and a gruff fisherwoman who feels resposible after fishing her out of the waves. but.. there are things that.. don't match in both their narratives? Why was Pearl in the ocean? why did she somehow remember Gem if they had never met before? ..did they never meet before? did they always used to look like that?

maybe in another life,, another time,,

#bitterwater au #shinyduo #my blorboos #i care for them #kind of a lore dump #don't worry there will be more #bw!Gem #bw!Pearl #bitterwater shinyduo au #mcyt #fanart #sol art

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bumbled-bees · 11 days ago

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Lily's Lack of Media Literacy

Lily’s video essays are rarely about the media she covers—rather, they’re vehicles for her to push whatever narrative she wants, whether that be a political take she only half understands or a passive-aggressive jab at her critics. Instead of engaging with media in good faith, she cherry-picks elements that support her predetermined conclusions and disregards anything that contradicts them.

This is why her critiques often feel shallow, reductive, or outright incorrect. She isn’t analyzing media to understand it—she’s filtering it through whatever argument she’s trying to make. If a piece of media happens to align with her worldview, she’ll champion it as a masterpiece. If it challenges her perspective or doesn’t fit neatly into her talking points, she’ll misrepresent it, ignore its themes, or insist it’s badly written. This results in blatantly inaccurate interpretations and a tendency to talk down to her audience as if they’re too stupid to realize she’s misrepresenting the very media she’s reviewing.

Then there’s her habit of using videos as thinly veiled subtweets. Many of her video topics seem suspiciously well-timed with whatever drama she’s currently involved in, and it’s not subtle. When a critic calls her out, suddenly there’s a video about “bad faith criticism.” When someone questions her behavior, here comes a rant about how “toxic” the internet is. If she’s losing favor with her audience, she pivots to preaching about “loyalty” and “how to spot fake friends.” She rarely, if ever, addresses drama head-on, instead choosing to air her grievances through her content under the guise of “analysis.”

This pattern makes her critiques wildly inconsistent. One day she’ll argue that a character or trope is inherently bad, only to contradict herself in another video when it suits her. The Dragon Age playthrough is a perfect example—more on that below—she clearly didn’t care about the games, but because they were associated with a critic, she forced herself through them purely out of spite, skipping dialogue and misrepresenting the story as she went.

At its core, Lily’s content isn’t about media literacy or thoughtful analysis. It’s about control. She uses her platform to shape narratives, settle personal scores, and reinforce her own biases. Whether it’s politics, fandom discourse, or drama, her goal is never to understand—it’s to win.

The Dragon Age Series

Lily’s Dragon Age playthrough is a textbook example of her lack of media literacy and how personal grudges guide her content to the point of self-sabotage. She didn’t play Dragon Age because she was interested in it, nor because she had anything insightful to say about it. She played it because Sai, one of her most prominent critics, is a huge fan of the series. Rather than approaching the game with curiosity or respect for its storytelling, Lily brute-forced her way through it with no regard for its themes, character arcs, or world-building.

Her button-mashing through dialogue is the biggest indicator of this. Dragon Age is an RPG where player choices significantly impact the narrative, and its story is delivered primarily through conversations, codex entries, and lore-building. Skipping dialogue in a Dragon Age game is akin to fast-forwarding through a movie and then complaining that the plot doesn’t make sense. When Lily inevitably misinterpreted key events or made uninformed takes about the story, it wasn’t because Dragon Age was poorly written—it was because she actively avoided engaging with it.

This ties into a larger pattern in her media analysis. Lily frequently presents herself as an authoritative voice on storytelling and character writing, yet she consistently demonstrates a shallow or even outright incorrect understanding of the media she critiques. She often ignores context, misrepresents character motivations, or oversimplifies themes to fit her own narrative. Instead of analyzing stories on their own terms, she reduces them to whatever point she’s trying to make, even if that means cherry-picking details or outright contradicting canon.

Her Dragon Age videos fit right into this habit. Because she skipped through crucial dialogue and refused to engage with the story properly, she ended up making numerous errors in her analysis. This mirrors past instances where she confidently misinterpreted media—whether it was claiming a show had a “bad message” while ignoring context or insisting a character was poorly written while disregarding their development. The Dragon Age series, however, exposed this flaw in a way that was impossible to ignore. It’s a franchise with an invested fanbase that knows its lore inside and out. People immediately picked up on how badly Lily was fumbling, and instead of making Sai or her critics look bad, she only discredited herself.

The irony is that this whole endeavor was likely an attempt at some weird flex against Sai. She didn’t just pick a random game to play—she specifically chose Dragon Age because of its connection to one of her detractors. It was meant to be a smug dismissal of something Sai loves, but in the end, it only made Lily look ignorant. Instead of proving anything, she just reinforced the idea that she doesn’t actually care about the media she talks about—she only cares about how she can weaponize it.

#lily orchard #cd-call #lily orchard analysis #lily orchard critical

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l2vedive · 3 months ago

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FROM THE ASHES w. hansol vernon chwe

supernatural horror au + childhood best friends (5.8k)

SUMMARY: in which you and hansol reunite ten years later to face the horrors of the past that left you both scarred and haunted. (reader and hansol centric)

pairing: hansol vernon chwe x fem!reader

featuring: lee chan of seventeen & lee nakyung of fromis

genres: SLOWBURN, angst, kinda horror, supernatural, action, childhood best friends w trauma, set in the 80s

warning(s): crazy amounts of lore, so much slowburn, hurt/comfort, mild descriptions of violence, character death

notes: wrote this purely for my own entertainment after replaying the game the other day. this is inspired by two games actually! it has elements of choices' book called it lives in the woods and romance club's shadows of saintfour. this has some heavy lore but i've done my best to break down most of it so you guys can understand it without playing ♡

if you liked this read, please don't forget to reblog with your thoughts and give it a like !

i. bravery.

it’s late in the evening, and the air feels heavy. you’re standing in front of the old house, the one that’s always felt both like a home and a prison. your small hands are trembling as you clutch the hem of your jacket, eyes scanning the darkened street outside, the distant sounds of the city muffled by the thick fog that has rolled in. you’ve been told not to go out past sunset, that the pisadeira��that thing from the nightmares—will get you. but your mother has been distant for weeks, locked in a room, her eyes wide with fear, always watching the shadows like they’re waiting for something to come.

you know you’re not supposed to be out here. you know the stories. everyone does. don’t go near the flowers. don’t look into the darkness. don’t listen to the whispers. but your feet move before you can think about it, the pull of the unknown stronger than any fear you’ve ever felt. you cross the threshold into the garden, the flowers there too large, too bright, almost alive. your heart races as the petals glisten like they’ve been touched by some forbidden magic, their beauty something both inviting and dangerous.

it’s then that you hear it—the soft voice, like the rustle of leaves in the wind, and you freeze. "come closer."

your breath catches in your throat. you don’t know why you don’t run.

ii. cowardice

hansol is young, barely a year older than you, but already carrying a weight in his chest that most kids his age wouldn’t understand. he doesn’t like to talk about it, the feeling—the one that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up when he’s alone in the dark. it’s not fear, exactly, more like a sense that something should be there. a presence. a pressure. something pulling at him from the shadows.

his family has always moved around. never staying in one place too long. too many unanswered questions about his father’s work, too many late nights with hushed conversations. hansol never really thought it was strange, until that one night. the one when he was alone in his room, playing with his toy cars, and he felt the air change. the floorboards creaked under someone’s weight—someone who wasn’t there.

the whispers started soon after. he couldn’t remember when, but they were always there, following him like a second shadow, calling him to the dark corners of the house. come closer. i’m waiting.

he told no one. even when his mother came in to check on him that night, he lied, said everything was fine. but deep down, hansol knew something was wrong. there was something in the dark, something that waited for the right moment to pull him under.

iii. small

the bell rings, and you’re at the gates of the middle school, your heart thumping in your chest for reasons you can’t explain. hansol is standing at the edge of the crowd, his usual stoic expression softening when he sees you. he waves shyly, like he always does, and you can’t help but smile back.

“hey, hansol,” you say, walking up to him with a grin. “you know what’s worse than studying for a pop quiz?”

he raises an eyebrow, the faintest spark of interest in his eyes. “what?”

“studying for a pop quiz with the teacher standing over your shoulder,” you say, laughing at the face he makes. “you’d think they’d give us a break.”

he tries to keep it in, but the smile breaks out anyway, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. it’s small, but you notice. “you’re a terrible influence,” he says with a shake of his head, but you can see the fondness in his eyes. inside, his chest flutters, and it’s the kind of flutter he wants to squash. but he can’t, not when you’re standing so close, your laughter light in the air, something unspoken between you both.

iv. sleepover

the annual sleepover at your house is always the most anticipated event of the year. even now, with the haunted past of saintfour hanging over your shoulders, it feels like something that should bring comfort. something normal. but things feel different this time.

hansol is the first to arrive, as always, but this time, there’s an unease in his eyes, a look that doesn’t quite belong in a child his age. he brushes it off when you greet him with a teasing smile, ruffling his hair as he steps inside. a small girl follows behind him and you swoop her up in your arms.

"it's not funny, you know," he mutters, brushing off your hand, but the corners of his lips twitch.

“gyul thinks it is, right?” you giggle and so does she, mirroring every expression you make.

hansol rolls his eyes and takes her from you so you could go and get things settled for the others.

as the night wears on after putting the youngest attendee to bed, you and your friends, hansol included, settle into the living room. nakyung is the first to start whispering, chan and hansol are too wrapped up in their snacks and games to notice that the air around you all is growing thicker, heavier.

“hey, do you guys feel that?” you ask, glancing around the room. your voice is shaky, uncertain, but they all brush it off.

“it’s just the storm outside,” nakyung laughs, waving it off. “you’re imagining it.”

but you know what you feel. the chill in the air is different. unnatural. and then you hear it. the soft whispers again, curling around you like smoke. come closer. it’s time to wake up.

before you can react, you feel it—something cold, something sharp, dragging its claws down your neck.

“no!” you scream, stumbling back, but the pain is overwhelming. the petals of the flowers from your nightmares begin to fall, drifting like snowflakes, but the touch of them is suffocating. you gasp, trying to push them away, but it’s no use.

“help! someone help her—!”

your vision dims, everything turning dark as the pain intensifies. you feel yourself slipping, your body falling against the ground as your breath catches in your throat. and then, everything goes black.

when you wake, you find a scar on your neck—a mark of the night you almost didn’t survive. the petals, though, are gone. the whispers are silent. but you can still feel it. she’s still here.

v. whispers

it’s been ten years. a decade of silence. no phone calls, no texts, no letters. you’ve gone your separate ways, drifting through life without the familiar presence of hansol, nakyung, or the others. it’s as if the past—the horrors of saintfour—were a shared dream that none of you wanted to remember. and yet, here you are, standing in the same auditorium once again, the weight of that history pressing down on your chest.

you sit in the crowd of new and old faces, the orientation assembly unfolding in front of you like any typical college event. there’s laughter, excitement, and the usual pre-university buzz in the air. you know hansol is somewhere in the crowd, though you can’t bring yourself to search for him. you feel the pull of your past, that strange, unexplainable tug, but you push it down. this is your fresh start. you won’t let the pisadeira ruin it.

but then, the lights flicker.

it’s subtle at first, just a quick blink, a brief interruption in the otherwise seamless flow of the assembly. no one else seems to notice, but your heart skips a beat. something’s wrong.

the smell of wildflowers invades the air. not the delicate, sweet fragrance of a bouquet—no, this is sharp, invasive, almost suffocating.

not again.

your pulse spikes as the familiar voice drifts into your mind, soft, like a breath against your skin. come closer, (your name).

it’s her. she’s here.

you try to steady your breath, your hands trembling as the whispers grow louder, more insistent, more malicious. i’ve waited for you. don’t run away.

your vision blurs, the room spinning as you struggle to stay grounded in the present. you glance around quickly, desperate to find someone who isn’t caught in the same trap. but everyone else is oblivious, lost in the crowd, unaware of the danger lurking at the edge of your perception.

except hansol, who locks eyes with you. he knows.

you’re back in it. back in the nightmare you thought you escaped.

vi. reawakening

it’s the third week of college when he knocks on your door. hansol. standing in the hallway, looking exactly as you remember, but older, quieter. his eyes are darker now, shadowed by years of things unsaid, but they still hold the same familiarity. you’re caught off guard, unsure of how to react. you weren’t expecting this, not after ten years.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper, trying to mask the shock that’s creeping up your throat.

he hesitates before answering, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. “your parents blame me,” he says quietly, his gaze not meeting yours. “and I’ve accepted it.”

the words hang heavy in the air, a confession of guilt, an admission of the years he’s spent with that weight on his shoulders. your stomach churns, a mix of anger and sadness rising up. how could they? how could they blame him for something neither of you could control?

you swallow, trying to process everything, but all you can think of is the way hansol looks so small now, so paralysed by the memories of things that shouldn’t be real. you’re reminded of the times when you both stood on the precipice of danger, and you couldn’t protect him. you couldn’t fight back against the monsters that seemed so real.

but you will now.

a fire stirs in your chest, something deep inside you that makes you want to protect him this time. this time, you’ll fight.

you find yourself tracking him, watching from the corners of campus, noting the places he frequents when the weekend comes. you never ask him where he’s going—never question it—but you always seem to find the empty seat next to him, always make sure to sit there when no one else does.

he doesn’t question it at first, but soon, he gives you a sideways glance, his gaze sharp but unreadable. “why didn’t you ask me first?”

you shrug, a small, playful smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “didn’t think I needed to.”

and he doesn’t question how you found him, either. perhaps he’s just relieved to have you there, even if he doesn’t admit it. but his silence is heavy, and you know there’s more to his avoidance than he’s letting on. there always is with hansol.

you’re back in each other’s lives now, and you can feel the weight of what’s coming. you both know it’s not over. it never was. but maybe, just maybe, this time, you won’t be alone.

vii. dive

the party hums with energy, laughter, and loud music, but hansol is nowhere near the centre of it. you find him by the garden, crouched by a patch of daisies, plucking their petals with deliberate precision. with each one, he tosses it lightly into the nearby pool, watching as they float and swirl on the water’s surface.

“you know, that’s supposed to be romantic,” you tease, crossing your arms as you approach. “daisies in a pool? what’s the occasion?”

he glances up at you, his expression unreadable but familiar. “just thought it was nice. peaceful, you know?”

“peaceful? at a party?” you ask, tilting your head. “didn’t think you’d even show up to something like this.”

“figured it’d be less lonely,” he replies, brushing a stray petal from his hand. “knowing the people I grew up with would be here, even if I’m not exactly a part of it.”

you blink, caught off guard by his honesty, but you quickly recover. “well, you’ve got company now,” you say lightly, sitting down on the edge of the pool beside him.

the conversation shifts to small talk, catching up on little details about classes, professors, and the mundane chaos of college life. hansol doesn’t say much, but when he does, his words are careful, thoughtful. he seems more at ease out here, away from the crowd.

then, david bowie’s modern love starts playing from the speakers, the familiar beat making your foot tap instinctively. you nudge his shoulder, a playful grin spreading across your face. “come on. dance with me.”

he leans back slightly, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “me? dancing out there? maybe you should ask chan. he’d love to dance with you.”

you roll your eyes, laughing, but you pause to search his face. there’s no hint of jealousy, no hard feelings—just a quiet acceptance, as if he’s fine watching from the sidelines. reassured, you rise and wave over chan, who doesn’t hesitate to grab your hand and spin you in a dramatic twirl that makes you laugh out loud.

soon, you’re in the middle of a lively group, dancing like you’ve known each other for years. you fit right in, your energy infectious, your smile bright.

from the edge of the garden, hansol watches you. there’s a flicker of something in his eyes.. you’re the same as you’ve always been. plucky, bold, unafraid to dive into life headfirst.

some things never change, he thinks, his lips curving into a small, almost imperceptible smile.

viii. reverse

study hall is quiet, save for the soft rustle of papers and the occasional tapping of pens against wooden desks. you’ve claimed a corner of the room, surrounded by textbooks and open tabs on your laptop—not for your upcoming pop quiz, but for something far more unsettling.

“pisadeira,” you mutter under your breath, scrolling through yet another article on the folklore.

“still on about that?”

you startle at the voice, looking up to see hansol standing there holding a takeout paper bag for iced americanos without waiting for an invitation, he sets the bag down and slides into the seat next to you.

“you’re supposed to be studying,” he says, nodding toward the pile of notes sprawled across your desk.

“and you’re supposed to avoid this topic,” you counter, narrowing your eyes. “why are you even here?”

he shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. “figured you’d need a distraction.”

you scoff, though the sight of him flipping through your notes catches you off guard. hansol hasn’t willingly spoken about the pisadeira since that night ten years ago, and seeing him this invested stirs something uneasy in you.

“you never wanted to talk about her before,” you say, your voice quieter now. “why the sudden interest?”

he doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed on one of your highlighted sections. “because she’s not just in your head,” he finally says.

you grit your teeth, frustration bubbling up. “i had another nightmare about her,” you admit. “last week. it was—” you pause, shaking your head. “it felt so real.”

“it’s just a dream,” he says firmly, turning to face you. “you’ll be ready if it happens again. we both will.”

his words are meant to comfort you, but they only add to the weight you already feel. you let out a heavy sigh, rubbing your temples. “you know, sometimes I wish I could just live a normal college life. no nightmares, no supernatural shit, just classes, lazy and terror professors in between and stupid long exams that require all nighters.”

hansol chuckles softly, the sound breaking the tension between you. “if all else fails,” he says after a moment, “you can always swing by my place in the future and help me with boring work stuff.”

you smile faintly, glancing down at your notes. “i might just take you up on that,” you say softly.

for the first time in what feels like forever, the weight on your shoulders feels a little lighter.

ix. time

the sorority house is alive with music and chatter, fairy lights strung across the ceiling casting a soft glow over the room. it’s the first party of the semester you’ve hosted, and your sorority sisters flit around the space, greeting guests and pulling people onto the makeshift dance floor. the air smells faintly of sweet cocktails and the flowers you’d arranged on every table earlier, a hollow attempt to lighten your unease.

it’s been two months since you last dreamt of the pisadeira. the quiet should be a relief, but it isn’t. not when reports have started to trickle through campus about students collapsing, choking on petals of purple flowers and other strange remains. she’s here, you know it, even if she hasn’t come for you yet. but why?

your stomach tightens, not from the pisadeira’s absence but from the creeping feeling of not belonging. this isn’t your scene, no matter how hard you try to pretend otherwise. you’re smiling, laughing, blending in, but for the first time, you feel out of place.

you force the thoughts away, telling yourself this party is meant to be a distraction. another night to blend in, to laugh and pretend like you don’t have a target painted on your back. nakyung has been doing her best to keep you entertained, introducing you to some of the boys she brought along, but none of them hold your attention. they’re polite, but their smiles are shallow, their conversation uninteresting.

“come on, smile,” nakyung whispers, nudging you with her elbow as she gestures toward a small group of guys lingering by the makeshift bar. “they’re cute, right? you should at least try.”

you force a smile, but it feels brittle. “they’re not my type.”

“you don’t have a type,” she retorts, rolling her eyes. “you’re just being stubborn.”

as nakyung drifts off to entertain someone else, you take a deep breath, your stomach knotting tighter with every passing second. the truth is, this isn’t your scene. it never has been. tonight, you feel the weight of that reality more than ever.

you glance around, catching sight of hansol by the snack table. he’s pouring himself a drink, looking more like a ghost than a guest.

he’s been here for five minutes, maybe less, and already he’s drifted to the edge of the room. across the hall, hansol is doing his best to blend into the wallpaper. chan had promised this party would be fun, nudging him along with a grin as they arrived. but as soon as they entered, chan was gone, disappearing into the crowd to charm strangers.

hansol doesn’t join him. he never does. instead, he hugs the corner of the party, his fingers curling nervously around the rim of his glass. his stomach churns, not from the punch but from the persistent tug of unease that’s been gnawing at him all evening. the music thrums against his chest like a second heartbeat, and yet he feels like he’s the only one moving in slow motion, the clock dragging its hands with agonising patience.

he’s by the snack table you meticulously laid out earlier, his shoulders hunched. hansol feels like an afterthought here, a placeholder for a party that doesn’t need him.

he glances at his watch, willing the minutes to pass faster, his chest tight with unease. it’s not the party that’s getting to him, though. it’s the clock. it feels like a countdown to something you can’t name, but every second that ticks by only makes him feel sicker.

he looks in a hurry. like he’s chasing time, trying to outrun something.

and then, as if sensing your curiosity, his gaze finds yours across the room.

you’re across the room, framed by the warm glow of fairy lights, your expression distant. for a moment, he wonders if you’re as uncomfortable as he is. when your eyes meet, it’s like the noise of the crowd fades into the background.

you smile—a small, fleeting gesture, but genuine.

he wants to smile back, to walk over, to say something, anything. but the moment stretches too long.

he doesn’t move, and neither do you

instead, you turn away, letting the crowd swallow you back up. hansol stays rooted to the spot, watching as you slip back into the crowd, a forced laugh on your lips as nakyung waves you over to meet another new face. hansol watches as you disappear into the sea of faces, his grip tightening around the cup in his hand.

somewhere in the corner of your mind, you replay the brief encounter, wondering why your heart clenched in that strange, familiar way. for a second, you’d felt tethered, but now the party feels lonelier than ever.

maybe he could’ve walked over, said something, done anything, if he didn’t already know what was coming.

but he does.

he looks at his glass, his reflection faintly visible in the surface of the drink. for a moment, he swears he sees something ripple beneath it, a flicker of purple that disappears the second he blinks.

x. pisadeira

the ruins reek of blood and decay, the air thick with the copper tang of the pisadeira's end. your dress clings to your skin, sodden with sweat, dirt, and her blood—so dark it looks black under the moonlight. your breathing is laboured, each inhale a desperate attempt to find clarity, but there is none to be found.

"leave them," hansol says, voice sharp as a whip, pulling you away from the remains of her carnage. the “dogs”—summoned guardians nakyung had managed to control—snarl and lunge at the creatures spilling into the ruins, their teeth gleaming like moonlit steel. "we have to go."

"we can’t just—" you start, but he grips your arm, the pressure of his fingers like iron.

"there’s no time!"

the urgency in his tone silences you, but the unease in your gut only grows as he pulls you, nakyung, and chan into the woods. branches claw at your ruined dress as you stumble after him, feet numb from the cold. the shadows seem alive, writhing like snakes in your periphery. hansol moves with a singular purpose, his jaw tight, his eyes flickering with something unreadable.

you glance back at chan and nakyung. chan’s face is pale, his usual easygoing charm replaced with grim determination. nakyung looks shaken, her lips pressed into a thin line, but she follows without question.

"hansol," you say, your voice trembling. "what’s going on? where are we going?"

"somewhere safe," he says, but there’s a crack in his voice, a crack you don’t miss.

"safe?" nakyung repeats, her tone laced with suspicion. "what do you mean safe? safe from what?"

"just trust me," hansol says, not looking back.

you want to trust him. god, you want to trust him. but something about the way he moves, the way his hand keeps brushing the pocket of his jacket, makes your heart pound with something other than exertion.

the forest thickens, the trees closing in around you like skeletal fingers. the air grows colder, the smell of wildflowers creeping into your nostrils. your steps falter.

"hansol," you whisper, panic threading your voice. "she’s here, isn’t she? the pisadeira’s not—"

"it’s not her," he cuts you off, his voice low and haunted. "not anymore."

you stop in your tracks. "what do you mean?"

he turns to face you, and for the first time, you see it—the torment, the guilt, the unbearable weight he’s been carrying.

"hangyul," he says, his voice breaking. "it’s my sister."

the world tilts and you feel like the wind’s knocked you off of your feet. "what?" you breathe, stepping back.

"she’s the one," he says, his voice trembling with the effort to stay steady. "the one who’s been hunting us. the one who’s been killing them."

"no," you say, shaking your head. "no, that’s not—she’s dead, hansol. she’s been dead for ten years."

"because of you," he snaps, the venom in his tone slicing through you. "because you failed to save her. because you let pisadeira take her."

the accusation hits like a physical blow, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

"that’s not fair!" nakyung interjects, stepping forward. "you know it’s not her fault."

"isn’t it?" hansol says, his eyes locking onto yours, sharp and unyielding. "she was the one who insisted we stay in that house. the one who convinced us it wasn’t real. and now my sister—she was innocent ! ” hansol turns to you, exasperated and eyes blurred with anger. “you turned her into a monster."

"she wasn’t your sister anymore," you say, your voice trembling. "not after what the pisadeira did to her. you know that."

"and you think that makes it easier?" he shouts, his composure shattering. "you think that makes it any less my responsibility to save her now?"

"save her?" chan echoes, his voice sharp with disbelief. "by doing what, hansol? what are you planning?"

silence falls, heavy and suffocating. hansol’s hand moves to his pocket, and when it emerges, it holds a knife.

"no," you whisper, your blood turning to ice.

"i’m sorry," he says, his voice hollow. "but this is the only way."

"you’re not making any sense!" you scream, backing away. "hansol, stop ! "

but he doesn’t stop. he steps forward, his grip on the knife tightening.

"i can’t let her keep suffering," he says, his voice breaking. "and i can’t let her come for you again. if i have to end this—if i have to hurt you to save her—then so be it."

"you’re insane," nakyung spits, stepping between you. "you think killing her—killing us—is going to fix anything? you’re just as much a monster as she is!"

"hansol, please," you say, your voice cracking. "don’t do this. we can find another way."

but he shakes his head, tears streaming down his face. "there is no other way. i have to end this. i have to end her."

and then he lunges.

your survival instincts take over, your body moving before your mind can catch up. you grab a fallen branch, swinging it with all your strength. the knife slices through the air, grazing your arm before you manage to knock it from his grip.

"traitor," you hiss, your voice filled with betrayal and heartbreak. "you brought us here. you led us into this."

"because i had to," he says, his voice breaking. "you don’t understand—"

"then make me understand!" you scream, the weight of ten years of pain and regret crashing down on you.

but he doesn’t answer. instead, he stumbles back, his hand clutching his side where your makeshift weapon struck.

"hansol," nakyung says, her voice trembling. "don’t make us do this. please."

he doesn’t respond. instead, he looks at you, his eyes filled with an agony you can’t begin to comprehend.

when the knife finally finds your back, the betrayal hurts more than the sting of the blade.

xi. bravery

the room is a warzone of exhaustion and regret, every shadow crawling with the remnants of what had just unfolded. nakyung and chan lie unconscious but breathing, their bodies splayed across the cold stone floor like broken dolls. the silence that follows is heavier than the chaos it replaced. the spirit of the pisadeira looms ahead, a gnarled figure of fury and vengeance, her form almost too grotesque to look at directly. but your eyes are drawn instead to hangyul’s ghost—her face streaked with spectral tears, her cries thin and keening, a sound that seems to reverberate inside your chest.

your body is screaming at you to stop, to lay down and give in to the pain radiating from your back where hansol’s knife had found you earlier. you clutch the wound with trembling fingers, sticky with blood, but your legs stay steady beneath you. barely.

hansol moves towards you like a puppet with its strings cut, dragging his feet as though the weight of his guilt has made it impossible to walk properly. his face is pale, streaked with sweat and grime, his eyes hollow and faraway. when he finally stands in front of you, you see a boy unravelling, a man drowning in the consequences of his choices.

he whispers, “i’m sorry,” but the words fall into the abyss between you, too light to matter now.

you can feel the fury bubbling in your chest, threatening to spill over. “sorry?” your voice trembles with anger and anguish. “you think that fixes this? you think that fixes her?” you gesture to hangyul’s ghost, to the weeping figure of the sister he’s chased after for so long.

his head dips low, his shame radiating like heat. “everything I did… was for her,” he says, his voice cracking. “i thought—i thought if i gave her what she wanted, if i made it right—”

“you betrayed us,” you cut him off, your voice sharper than you mean it to be. “you betrayed me, hansol.”

the words land like blows, and he flinches visibly.

but then you see it—the way his hands shake, the way his lips press together as though holding back a sob. he doesn’t want to fight anymore. he doesn’t want to keep running.

and despite everything—despite the knife in your back, the blood on his hands—you see the boy you grew up with, the boy who once handed you the last piece of bread during a sleepover, who once told you your laugh was louder than the cicadas.

“you can’t fix this by throwing yourself into it,” you say, softer this time. “don’t you see? the pisadeira doesn’t want justice, hansol. she wants suffering. she’ll take you, and it’ll never end.”

he looks at you then, truly looks at you, and you can see the cracks in him deepening. “then what am i supposed to do?”

you glance at hangyul’s ghost, her ethereal form flickering, fading in and out like a candle struggling to stay lit. your mind is racing, calculating the options. the pisadeira’s form trembles, growing impatient, her sharp, distorted voice rasping through the air.

“one soul,” she hisses. “one soul to replace the one lost. a fair trade.”

hansol starts to step forward, his movements deliberate, but you stop him with a hand on his chest.

“no,” you say firmly.

“(your name), please,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “this is my fault. let me fix it.”

“if you want to fix it, you stay alive,” you snap, your breath hitching from the sharp pain in your back. “you stay alive, and you remember this. you live with it. and you make it mean something.”

he stares at you, wide-eyed, as you step past him. your body feels like it’s made of lead, every movement torturing him, but you don’t stop. before he can stop you, you turn and step toward the pisadeira, the wound in your side burning like fire, your legs trembling but unyielding. the creature watches you with a twisted smile, her skeletal fingers outstretched. hangyul’s ghost weeps behind her, mouthing a silent plea for you to stop.

“no!” hansol lunges forward, grabbing your arm, but you wrench yourself free. you feel hansol’s scream more than you hear it, but you don’t turn back. bravery is all you have left.

"let her go," you say, your voice clear and strong. "take me instead.".

“don’t make me watch this again,” you hear hansol plead, his voice desperate, tears streaking his face. “please, (your name). don’t—”

“it has to end. you told me yourself. this happened because of me.” you say, your voice steady despite the fear coursing through you. “so it will end with me too.”

you step into the circle at the centre of the room, where the ritual had been poised to complete with hansol’s sacrifice. the pisadeira snarls, her twisted face splitting into something that might have been a grin.

you glance back at hansol one last time, your eyes meeting his. you see the devastation there, the love, the regret. and for a brief moment, you smile. “be brave and live well, hansol,” you tell him. a tear falls and you can’t bear the thought of looking back and seeing him broken.

you see hangyul’s ghost move closer, her lips forming the words "thank you." before she vanishes like a light. at the same time, the pisadeira’s grin widens as her claws pierce your chest, the pain white-hot and all-encompassing. as the darkness closes in.

and then, nothing.

xii. cowardice

when the silence falls, it is not the peaceful kind. it is the suffocating quiet of loss, the heavy weight of a world newly broken. hansol’s knees give out beneath him, and he crumples onto the cold, uneven ground. his head falls into his hands, shaking as sobs tear from his throat.

"no," he whispers hoarsely, his voice trembling and thin. "no, no, no…"

the ruins are bathed in an eerie stillness, illuminated only by the dim glow of the moon. nakyung and chan stir on the floor, groaning faintly as they start to come to, but they are not awake enough to witness the wreckage left behind. hansol feels the briefest flicker of relief that they’re alive—alive, because of you—but it is fleeting, swallowed by the sight of you lying motionless, your body crumpled on the stone floor, your skin pale and cold to the touch.

this is his doing.

"it wasn’t supposed to be this way," he rasps, his hands trembling as he cups your face, brushing his thumb against your clammy cheek. he pulls you close, his tears falling onto your lifeless skin. "you weren’t supposed to—" his voice breaks, and he clutches you tighter, as though holding you close might bring you back.

the sound of sirens pierces the distance, their wailing cry growing louder with each second. hansol freezes, his chest heaving as panic sets in. he can’t be seen here. not like this. not holding your body, your blood on his hands, his knife discarded somewhere in the wreckage.

they’ll blame him. they should blame him.

"no, not like this," he whispers, his hands shaking as he gently lowers your body back onto the ground. his fingers brush your hair away from your face, his breath catching in his throat as he takes in every detail of you—the softness of your features, the way your lashes rest against your cheeks, the faint traces of the bravery you wore so fiercely etched into your expression.

a daisy lies nearby, untouched amidst the chaos, and he picks it up with trembling fingers. carefully, he tucks it into your hair, his movements deliberate and tender, as though this small act might undo the horrors of the night.

"i’m sorry," he whispers, his voice breaking. "i’m so sorry."

the sirens are close now, too close. hansol’s heart pounds in his chest as he looks at you one last time, memorising every detail, every part of you that he couldn’t save.

and then he runs.

— please do not copy , translate or repost any of my works anywhere.

#vernon x reader #vernon imagines #vernon scenarios #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen vernon #vernon chwe #svt vernon #svt vernon x reader #svt angst #seventeen angst #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #svt smau #seventeen smau #l2venotes

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alwaysakin · 10 months ago

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The Vampire Diaries Universe Fic Recs

Once again putting my unhealthy amount of fanfic knowledge to good use. Here's my list (non-exhaustive) of the best vampire diaries & originals fanfics. Includes Klaroline, Bamon, Kolvina, and more.

Bamon Fics

Before I Take My Flesh Away by Orig1n - the fic where Bonnie and Damon are cosmically bonded, and she hops around in his timeline pre (and during) the series. Tragically unfinished, but completely incredible! Kudos for developing Stefan and Damon as brothers and making me not hate Lily Salvatore. Also love the Arthurian lore.

if you love me (don't let go) by sarcastic_fina - this is a heartbreaking deconstruction of Bonnie and her victim mentality, and shows the strength of not only her romantic relationship with Damon, but her friendships with Caroline, Matt, and Tyler. So sad, but so good!

Bloodstone by cactusfinch - Bonnie time travels to 1864 (with all the problems entailed). Her relationship with Damon is done well here, and her friendship (sort of!) with Katherine is fun as hell.

rest for the wicked (hope for the weary) by castelia - Damon and Bonnie go on a road trip together after the prison word. I am a sucker for mutual pining, and this fic does it so well!

Fifty-Five Years by turningofflights - written from Elena's perspective, after she reads Bonnie's diary entries and learns how Bonnie and Damon fell in love. A bittersweet, believable love story for Bonnie and Damon.

Other Bonnie Bennett Ship Fics

The Edge of Night by Szajnie - a crossover between season 3 of the Originals and season 7 of the Vampire Diaries, where Bonnie goes to New Orleans. She's absolutely in her element here as the most powerful New Orleans witch, takes the supernatural world by storm, and everyone has a happier ending because of it (including her!). Absolutely love her friendships with Davina, Vincent, and Freya, and shout-out for being the only fic to make me care about Cami! Truly, this is great. The NOLA gang is the family Bonnie deserves, and the Bonnie/Klaus is so believable.

Kai Parket Screwed Us (Until Bonnie Bennett Screwed Him) by hysteriaww - exactly what it sounds like. Bonnie shows up to help Josie and Lizzie deal with the prison world and her and Kai's insane relationship weirds everyone out. Deals with the Gemini Coven in a really interesting way. Hilarious, and with mild Damon and Alaric bashing. BonKai.

Season One, Epsidoes One-Three by BorgiaBabe - a rewrite of the first three episodes of TVD with Bonnie as a proper main character. Her love interest is a softer Kai, and it's great! Bonnie really deserves better.

the night light hits off, turning kisses to bites by donutworry - an insane, dark, twisted Bonnie and Kai romance, where they're the only ones in the prison world from the start. I absolutely love the Gemini Coven lore in this fic.

Klaroline Fics

Make them bow by for_darkness_shows_the_stars - Klaus appears in season 1 of the vampire diaries. it's Klaroline, but still super gen, and all the characters get their own compelling arcs in it. Especially love the way Elena and Stefan are written.

One of A Kind, Two of a Kind, or the Three Musketeers by Phandancee74 - Caroline is an ancient nymph who was erased from memory by Malivore. She still helps the Mystic Falls gang out (and her relationship with Bonnie is great)! The Klaus/Caroline is angsty and lovely.

Calling on a Friend by Phandancee74 - 5 year old Josie gets Klaus's number. Shenanigans ensue. Short and cute as hell.

Sanctuary in their Hearts by thatsanotherlovestory - Caroline leaves before the season 8 wedding, and heads to New Orleans with Klaus. A fun story, but still so sad Bonnie didn't get her happy ending in it. The twins are so cute in this.

Let's do the Time Loop again! by kcatdino - on the night of the sacrifice, both Klaus and Caroline get stuck in a time loop. It's so funny to watch them get more and more deranged.

sweet present of the present by VintageLilac - it's Caroline, not Rebekah, who raises Hope while New Orleans is at war. I absolutely love Katherine in this fic, and though Hayley gets the short end of the stick it's written quite well.

The Wolf by Yokan - a witch version of Caroline is the one pregnant with Klaus's baby in the originals. And while season 1 doesn't change a lot because of it, the later ones definitely do! I love the Klaus and Caroline relationship, and Caroline & Elijah friendship.

Elena Gilbert-Centric Fic

The stars were brightly shining by adlyb - a fic where Elena is pregnant with Klaus's baby. It's so hard to describe! A little twisted, a little sweet, and a thorough depiction of Elena's mental state.

The Forgotten by MissNMikaelson - Elena time travels and gets dropped in the middle of Klaus and Kol's war in New Orleans, circa 1914. The flashback scenes in the fic are great! Eventual Kol/Elena.

blame it on the stardust by allwritenow - the fic that looks into if Elena's doppelganger nature affected her more. And a truly beautiful Caroline, Bonnie, and Elena friendship.

Off by a Single Degree by Tarroko - when Elena's phone dies, Damon walks her home and never compels away her memories, and her parents never die. This softer, sweeter Elena is so believable, and I love the way canon immediately shifts. Amazing development of her parents, Anna, and Enzo. Delena.

Katherine Pierce Centric Fic

afflictions eclipsed by glory by passionesque - in 1864, right after the fire in Mystic Falls, Elijah finds Katherine. They team up together against Klaus. This deals with Katherine's trauma and cunning so well! A slow build to Elijah/Katherine, involving him acknowledging his faults.

General Mystic Falls Gang Fics

in another life (i would let you go) by sarcastic_fina - Elena wakes up in a world where she isn't the doppelganger and no one knows her. An interesting deconstruction of the affects she's had on her friends... Manages to be both Elena-bashing and sympathetic at the same time. Minor Steroline and Bamon.

Originals Family Feels

It All Comes Crumbling Down by AlwaysAkin - can I do a self-rec? I'm doing a self-rec. Hope is born a century earlier, and grows up in New Orleans with the Mikaelsons. I'm particularly proud of my Hope-Marcel bond and young!Hope voice in this one.

A Twist Through Time by fandom_lover_101 - Hope is sent back in time to the Vampire Diaries season 3. She messes everything up. Absolutely love the slow Hope & Klaus relationship built here, and her friendship with Elena is cute too. Minor Klaroline, Delena, and Handon.

Always & Tomorrow by Viretta - another tragically unfinished fic. Set after Hope jumps into Malivore in Legacies, it involves the dead Mikaelsons being resurrected, and the kids from the Salvatore School travelling to New Orleans (with a newly activated tribrid Hope). This is a Mikaelson family story in the bloodiest, best way. Has Handon and Klaroline in addition to the canon Originals couples.

if no one in the entire world cared about you (did you really exist at all?) by nevermore_evermore - Elijah is erased from the minds of everyone he loves. Kol is (eventually) there to help him through it. An interesting take on Elijah's place in the family.

A Million Mistakes by mon-amour-eternel - a fic where Caroline is also an original, and her and Klaus are Marcel's parents. Sadly unfinished, especially considering the rarity of Marcel-centric fic!

But Stand Brave, Life-Liver by crownjrose - A Hayley-centric fic! Her foster parents come to New Orleans and see the way her life turned out. Interesting closure for Hayley, and a sweet Klaus/Hayley relationship.

Kolvina Fic

(finally) you and me are the lucky ones by yorkes - a long one-shot where Kol and Davina are soulmates. It's cute as hell! And Kol and Davina really grow into each other in this one.

The Vixen and the Fox by BlueBooThalassophile - be warned, this read is long as hell. But it's also great. Davina time travels to the Vampire Diaries season 4, gets involved in the fight against Silas, and everything goes sideways immediately. Love Davina's friendship with Hayley and bond with Marcel in this one. Every character in both shows appears in this one.

#the vampire diaries #tvd universe #fanfic rec #fic rec #bamon #klaroline #delena #bonkai #kolvina #bonnie bennett #caroline forbes #elena gilbert #klaus mikaelson #hope mikaelson #the originals #damon salvatore

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cinnamon-galaxies · 7 months ago

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𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐢𝐫 - Part 1

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Pairings: Alastor x female reader Summary: During a night out at a club with the hotel crew, you enjoy dancing and drinking with Angel while Alastor remains visibly uncomfortable in the lounge area. Seeking distraction from your conflicted feelings towards him, you connect with another woman, which quickly escalates into an embarrassing situation. This forces you to question not only your emotions but also the true nature of your complicated relationship with Alastor. Warnings/Tags: female reader, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, drunk reader, kissing, reader is bisexual and makes out with another woman, Alastor gets jealous, Alastor is bad at feelings so instead of communicating his jealousy he decides to taunt reader, second hand embarrassment Wordcount: 4.4k A/N: I can’t believe it – I’ve finally managed to write a new story! It has a second part that’s almost finished and will be posted at the end of the month. If you’d like to be tagged when it’s up, just let me know! Fun fact about this story: It includes lore about my OC Mara, as the circumstances under which the reader meets Selena are the same as those in which Mara encounters her best friend in my AU! Comments, Likes and Reblogs are always appreciated!

Masterlist

The club was packed with bodies and the colorful neon lights flickered in time with the relentless beat of electronic music. Loud chatter and the pounding bass around him formed an unbearable cacophony that made Alastor cringe inwardly. He despised the modern scene and its noise, the crowds and overall lack of refinement. It was far from his idea of a pleasant evening. Oh, how much he hated to be here. Stressed and feeling completely out of place, Alastor sat in the lounge area of one of Pentagram City's most notorious clubs, his grin strained, his ears perked up and a much too sweet cocktail in his hand. If it wasn’t for his gloves, the whitened knuckles from his heavy grip around the glass would’ve been apparent even from afar. He hadn’t intended to come here and would’ve preferred to stay at the hotel, settling himself in front of his fireplace with a good book and fine jazz in the background. Honestly, he would’ve even preferred to clean the entire hotel over being forced to spend his time in this establishment which felt as wrong as a walk through the Vee’s district. It was Angel Dust who had brought up the idea of this excursion, promising a wild night of fun and debauchery to blow off some steam. The other residents had barely hesitated, convinced by the idea of spending a night out together. To Alastor’s biggest disapproval, they had insisted on him to accompany them. Not that they would’ve had the power to convince him to leave the tranquility of the quiet hotel behind for such a cacophony of modern entertainment that could be the product of one of his nightmares – no. It was you who had convinced him in the end. You were just too persistent and persuasive, and he was just too taken with you to refuse after such big eyes begged him to join.

You, on the other side, enjoyed the evening. You were completely in your element, dressed up in a tight but elegant cocktail dress and exuding confidence as if you owned this place. Together with Angel Dust, you dominated the dance floor with fluid and inhibited movements, your arms held up in the air while you swung your hips to the rhythm of the music. You quickly became the center of attention, especially for Alastor who couldn’t help but watch you from his secluded spot, a mix of admiration and irritation flickering in his otherwise unreadable eyes. How he admired your confidence, your ability to let loose in such an uncomfortable and overstimulating place, reveling in the atmosphere with such vivid enthusiasm. Yet, the feelings he held for you were a secret, cautiously buried beneath the layers of his Radio Demon persona.

“Come on, Smiles, loosen up and have some fun,” Angel Dust suddenly interrupted his train of thoughts, and Alastor snapped his head in his direction, raising his eyebrows at the spider demon. When did he leave the dance floor? As Alastor glanced at him, he noticed a small tray with half a dozen shots in his hands. Angel must have left for the bar to get drinks for himself and the others. If he really thought he could convince Alastor to indulge in this kind of modern entertainment, he was delusional.

Without a word, Alastor rolled his eyes and waved him off, his gaze drifting back to you before he got aware that Angel Dust still stood beside him and turned his attention to the glass in his hand.

The spider demon let out a deep sigh. “Alright. Haven’t expected anything else,” he murmured and walked on, but not without placing one of the full shot glasses on the small table in front of Alastor and disappearing before Alastor could say something. He watched Angel Dust return to the dance floor, heading directly towards you. Then he stared at the shot glass and raised his eyebrow, clear liquor grinning back at him. With a sigh that was impossible to hear under the loud noise other people dared to call ‘music’, he took it in his hand and downed the substance in one gulp. A spicy burn seared in his throat, making him cough. At least the shot was tolerable…

You had the time of your afterlife. Increasingly intoxicated after downing one drink after another you danced in the crowd, hips swaying vividly to the music with such unrestrained joy you haven’t felt in a long time. It was a good idea to agree to Angel’s suggestion to go partying. You didn't know that you needed this until you had arrived and he dragged you to the bar almost immediately to get ready for a night of reckless debauchery. You haven’t left the dance floor since you’ve emptied your first longdrink and probably won’t within predictable time because Angel Dust served you with new drinks almost every quarter of an hour.

You watched your friend worm himself through the crowd, skillfully avoiding contact with any of the other guests, balancing the tray high above his head while he shielded himself from accidental punches with his second set of arms. When he arrived, he placed the tray on a high bar table not far from you. Still entranced by the music you danced your way over to him.

“Damn, you really want to mess me up, huh?”, you joked as you noticed the amount of shots he got and Angel shrugged his shoulders.

“Lil’ stock supply will prevent me from fighting myself over to the bar for at least another half an hour,” he responded, handing you a shot glass and taking one for himself.

A laugh escaped your throat and you praised him for his genius idea with a quick wink. “Then let’s hope no one will spike them when we look away.” With that, you raised your shot glass in a quick toast and downed the clear liquor with high anticipation, a cough escaping you as the spicy alcohol burned down your throat. Dry Ouzo. Tasty, but like fire in the stomach.

Angel chuckled at your reaction, clearly unaffected due to his regular club nights with Cherri.

“Hey man, thanks for the drinks!” a random stranger exclaimed over the music, boldly snatching two shots away and disappearing in the crowd as fast as he had appeared.

“And so the stock runs out,” Angel Dust deadpanned with an annoyed expression, staring with narrowed eyes in the direction the shot thief took their leave.

You snorted through your nose, erupting in wholehearted laughter at his reaction, and shrugged your shoulders. “Looks like you’ll have to return to the bar sooner than anticipated,” you mocked him with a smirk, patting one of his lower shoulder joints.

“Hmpf…” Without another word, Angel took another shot and downed it right after.

You and Angel Dust spend some time just standing at the bar table, chatting with raised voices and watching the other guests while you commented on their dancing styles or played a sheepish game of ‘fuck, marry, kill’ with random strangers you pointed out from the crowd.

After what was about an hour, you cleared your throat. “I need to go to the bathroom. After that, I’ll head to the bar and get myself a soda,” you informed Angel, and he nodded in acknowledgment. Pushing yourself up from the table, you navigated through the crowds, the effect of almost half a dozen shots clearly affecting your vision and balance. It wasn’t too debilitating because your body could handle large amounts of alcohol easily, but you still felt uncomfortable and needed some time to steady yourself and return to your senses. Some non-alcoholic drinks might work wonders to ease the symptoms. You're bound to face a brutal hangover tomorrow anyway.

After you returned from the bathrooms you walked over to the bar, ordering a simple soda from the barkeeper. You thanked him as he handed you your non-alcoholic drink and leaned with your back against the bar counter. As you took a few gulps, your gaze wandered around the club and a sigh escaped your throat. It was an awesome evening though different from what you expected. You actually had planned to take it easy and not indulge in such debauchery. But Angel had claimed you as soon as you entered the club, dragging you away from the group and lulling you to loosen up. It’s not that you weren’t eager to go clubbing. You actually liked to partake in such excursions and just forget about the daily stress for an evening full of fun and loud music. And this time, it seemed to be helpful to suppress certain matters of the heart as well…

Your gaze wandered to the lounge area where you found a certain deer demon sitting on a couch – the seats around him unoccupied because no one dared to sit close to him – and you could feel your heart sink. You were so confident when you convinced him to join your excursion and yet you didn’t dare to spare him a single glance ever since you entered this establishment. You had convinced him to join in a moment of boldness, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this could be an opportunity to bridge the gap between you. But instead you feared that you complicated things even further.

Alastor was an enigma and that was part of the allure that drew you in. His charm, his charisma, and the old-world chivalry he brought to every interaction caused you to melt every time he was near. He made your heart race with a single glance, his touch – so commanding yet delicate – set your skin on fire, sending thousands of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He was a force of nature, fierce and unpredictable, with a soft spot only those he chose were privileged to see. And you were one of those people. Yet, you weren’t even sure if you meant anything to him because he held you at a respectable distance, initiating a game of push and pull between you that left you reeling.

Was it a mistake to bring him here? A part of you thought it was because you knew he never was one for Hell’s modern nightlife and seeing him sit there, a predator among prey with a strained grin plastered on his face and holding onto a drink in his hands, only highlighted the chasm between you two. You couldn’t shake off the feeling that you made things worse by dragging him into an environment where he seemed completely out of place, and where your feelings for him felt more unrequited than ever.

"Dizzy head?" A female voice disrupted your train of thoughts, and you raised your head to meet the kind face of a beautiful woman leaning against the bar counter. She held a long drink with a tiny paper umbrella in her hand, her lips curled into a soft smile. Her skin had a pale pinkish hue, almost ghostly under the club's dim yet colorful lights, while two horns peeked out from her thick raven hair.

"A little," you responded, pushing your daunting thoughts away, and took a sip from your soda. "But nothing to worry about. A few minutes of abstinence will do enough," you laughed lightly, trying to shake off the haze.

The woman laughed along and glanced thoughtfully at the drink in her hands. “I’ll probably do the same after this one.” She shrugged and then turned her gaze back to you. “I’m Selena,” she introduced herself with a bright smile.

“Y/N!” you returned much more joyfully than you felt.

“So, your first time here? I’m a regular guest here so I know all of the common faces.”

You took another sip from your soda. Maybe getting to know someone new would help you feel better. “I actually came here with a group of people. Friends and co-workers, you could say. Just a simple night out to get some distraction from the stress of maintaining the hotel,” you explained with a slight smile on your lips as your gaze quickly wandered around the club. You noticed some of your companions scattered across the establishment.

Selena tilted her head curiously, clearly intrigued. “The hotel? So, you’re working at that ‘Hazbin Hotel’?” she asked, and soon your casual small talk turned into an extensive conversation. You told her about your job and Charlie’s unusual belief in redemption that barely received any recognition, and Selena listened intently, her curiosity keeping the conversation alive with thoughtful questions. As you talked, a sense of relief washed over you. Slowly, you learned more about Selena, and before long, thoughts of Alastor faded from your mind entirely.

As the night wore on, you found yourself drawn back into the rhythm of shots and cocktails, and soon enough, Selena dragged you back to the pulsing dance floor. The flashing lights and thumping bass faded into the background as you moved in sync, the world reduced to just the two of you dancing and laughing like old friends. The chemistry between you was palpable. Selena mirrored your enthusiasm and joy with such ease that it felt like you had known each other for years. With every dance move and shared laughter, the bond between you deepened and you were certain that if the night continued on this smoothly and you both remembered each other the next morning, you had found a new friend.

The music – a popular pop song from the early 2000’s – filled the air, infusing the atmosphere with nostalgia and energy, and a sense of euphoria washed over you. You danced, drinks raised into the air while you held each other on the shoulders. Each move felt like a release, a moment of being liberated from all worries and constraints as the adrenaline rushed through your veins.

You exchanged meaningful glances with Selena, unable to ignore the magnetic pull you felt toward her. Was it merely the alcohol heightening your perceptions, or was it genuinely her captivating presence – her allure, infectious personality, and sharp wit – that drew you in? You didn’t know but your mutual attraction pulled you closer until you eventually slipped away, stumbling into a quiet hallway at the back of the club, away from the pounding music and the press of bodies. The alcohol clouded your vision, lowered your senses and your boundaries. And so, you found yourself caught in a passionate embrace with Selena. Your fingers played with her hair as you pressed yourself against her, using the proximity with that alluring woman to your own benefit to forget about the tight squeeze around your heart and all the inner turmoil you felt whenever you thought about him.

Meanwhile, Alastor still sat in his secluded spot, grateful that his presence was nervously avoided by the other guests. He appreciated not having to endure forced proximity with people – at least most of the time. One time during the evening, Charlie – ever the caring person – had seated herself next to him, expressing her worry about his obviously strained mood and claiming to feel guilty for not allowing him to stay at the hotel. How funny that the princess truly believed she was the reason he joined their little night out; as if she had any authority over him... To his surprise, Alastor had easily managed to brush her off by affirming he was alright all over again. A blatant lie, but preferable over enduring more of her neverending rambling. Of course, she reassured him several times that returning to the hotel would be okay, before she eventually left him alone. And Alastor would have already left hours ago if it wasn’t his primary concern to ensure your safety.

He felt a migraine coming on, an unpleasant throbbing in his temple caused by the stress this establishment was inflicting upon him. Rising from his seat, he decided to retreat from the main area to seek some respite from the oppressive atmosphere, instructing his shadow to remain vigilant. With his cane tapping against the floor with every step, he walked past the lounge area and the dancefloor, the crowd instinctively parting to make way for him like Moses parting the Red Sea. Thanks to his observant shadow, he already knew that the back of the club led to an outside area that offered a welcome relief from the sensory overload.

As he walked through the dimly lit hallway, the music became quieter, no longer assaulting his sensitive hearing, and instead, faint giggles reached his ears. He hesitated before rounding the corner and stopped dead in the tracks. There, in front of him, were you, pressed against a wall and your lips locked with another woman in a heated kiss. The scene was intimate, passionate, and entirely unexpected. Your body was entwined with her’s, your hands roaming through her hair while the woman held you in her embrace.

For a moment, Alastor simply watched, unable to avert his gaze. This revelation caught him completely off-guard and his heart twisted painfully in his chest, an unfamiliar feeling of jealousy and confusion warring inside him. He had known that you were fond of men but this revelation left him reeling. But no matter with whom you were with, seeing you in such an intimate manner with another person was a blow he hadn’t anticipated and that sent a surge of anger through his body. He clenched his fists, torn between storming away and interrupting you, the discomfort palpable in his features while he fought to regain his composure.

Sensing eyes on you, you broke the kiss and looked up. You startled immediately as your eyes fell on the red deer demon.

"Alastor!" you exclaimed in shock, instinctively pushing Selena away. She turned her head, her eyes widening immediately, her face paling in shock and fear as she recognized the figure standing before you both. "You– you’re the Radio Demon!" she stammered, her voice shaky.

You, still breathless from the kiss, clenched your jaws together, feeling just as uncomfortable as Alastor. His grin looked strained for a second but then he returned to his cold, unreadable expression, and your heart sank in your chest.

“Alastor… this isn’t what it looks like…” you muttered a cheap excuse while you felt the heat rising to your face, turning your already alcohol-induced cheeks to a burning red. Your lips curled into a nervous grin, driven by the rush of embarrassment coursing through your veins, mingled with a heavy, unidentifiable tangle of emotions. Out of all your companions, why did it have to be him who caught you in the middle of the act?

Alastor raised an eyebrow, his smile now sardonic while his gaze wandered back and forth between you and Selena. His voice carried a heavy static as he responded, “Oh, I think it is exactly what it looks like, my dear.”

You took in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I didn’t mean to–,” you tried to explain but Alastor cut you off with a dismissive wave of his clawed hand.

“Nonsense, my dear,” he laughed his discomfort off, pushing his jealousy aside, though the enhanced static on his voice betrayed his forced facade. “There’s no need to apologize. You’re free to do whatever you want. I am the one who should be apologizing. I didn’t mean to interrupt your…” He wiggled his fingers in a suggestive gesture that implied everything he wanted to say without having to utter a single word.

You giggled nervously, your heartbeat slowly calming, and glanced at Selena who appeared visibly intimidated by Alastor’s presence, her posture tense and her joyful expression replaced by a mortified grimace, which only made you feel more uneasy.

“I– I should go,” she eventually said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that lingered in the hallway and attempted to walk off.

“No, wait!” you tried to stop her, not wanting to be left alone with Alastor, but Selena just forced herself to tighten her lips into a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, I’ll find you later,” she retorted, interpreting your reaction as a worry to not see her again instead of the sheer plea to not be left alone. With that, she walked off, returning to the main part of the club and leaving you alone with Alastor.

You felt his lingering gaze burning into your side, the faint glow of his crimson eyes in the dim light of the hallway making him appear more dangerous than he was. Well, assuming that Alastor wasn’t dangerous would be utterly naive – he was literally an overlord and one of the most dangerous ones at that. However, he would never harm you, so in that sense, he was harmless.

“Enjoying yourself, I see,” Alastor eventually commented, his unreadable expression sharpened by a subtle flicker of disapproval in his eyes.

You still couldn't bring yourself to look at him and that comment only exacerbated your unease. Why did he have to be someone who found pleasure in keeping other people on edge? Could he at least not wallow in your discomfort now? It wasn’t as if you weren’t already suffering enough.

You sighed and bit your lip, swallowing the clod in your throat before you pulled yourself together to say something. “We were just… oh fuck me…” you mumbled those last words quietly to yourself, “Look, she’s a friend and we got a little too comfortable after drinking so much booze.” While you tried to explain the situation, you asked yourself why you even bothered. He couldn’t care less. You weren’t dating and probably not even friends. Damn, you didn’t even know what you were because everything was just too complicated between the both of you. There were pushes and pulls and every time you felt some tension crackling between you it dissipated again, leaving you clueless and completely confused by Alastor’s unpredictable behavior, his intermittent interest in you, and those random moments that allowed you a fleeting glimpse behind his facade. It was infuriating the least and most of all profoundly frustrating. If it wasn’t for him and your damned feelings for that man, you probably wouldn't even have found yourself in this predicament.

“Why are you even here?” you asked and eventually dared to look at him.

“I was seeking some quiet,” he replied, his voice softer now, the edge gone.

“And then you stumbled upon us and decided to watch?”

He let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, come on. I did not watch,” he dismissed your question with a nonchalant throw of his hand, rolling his eyes as if you just asked him the stupidest thing. “But your little rendezvous was attracting quite the attention, dear.”

You gritted your teeth and decided to push his borders a little. If he could make the situation awkward for you then you could certainly return the favor. Besides, you were still drunk and the alcohol lowered your inhibitions enough to go completely bold in front of him.

Narrowing your eyes you crossed your arms in front of your chest and relaxed back against the same wall you were just pressed against by Selena mere minutes ago. “Quite the attention or your attention, Alastor?” you asked, pretending to be more confident than you actually were.

Alastor’s grin grew more strained immediately and you could swear that one of his eyes twitched for a quick second before he regained his composure yet another time. Why was he so tense? Normally, Alastor would’ve just raised an eyebrow and walked past you without further interest. But instead he froze on spot, obviously unable to avert his gaze until you felt his eyes on you.

He didn’t respond, so your expression grew more smug as you decided to push him just a little bit further. Maybe you could use this situation to your advantage and finally get some answers… “Could it be that it bothered you to catch me with someone else?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, dear,” he dismissed your question with another throw of his hand, rolling his eyes yet again. “I was merely caught off-guard by seeing you engaging in such frivolities with another woman. I didn’t know you swung both ways.” He tilted his head and chuckled, the static filter on his voice distorting the sound almost unnervingly.

“Well, there’s a lot about me that you don’t know,” you retorted, your voice coming out sharper than expected.

One of Alastor’s ears twitched at your aggravated tone. “Is that so?” he asked.

“It is.” You deadpanned.

A moment of silence lingered between the two of you until Alastor broke it, “Well, the world is full of surprises, isn’t it? And you, my dear, seem to be full of surprises too.”

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.”

“How about both?” He tilted his head once more, casually positioning his cane in front of him and leaning on it the way he usually did when he found himself intrigued by something. The tension that had gripped him so tightly vanished as if it had never been there at all. And there it was: the so-called push and pull that left you reeling for months.

You took a deep breath, growing annoyed by this conversation. “If you don’t care then why are you still here?”

“Curiosity, dear,” he responded casually.

“Curiosity?” You arched an eyebrow, not quite buying his answer.

“Indeed,” he affirmed.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” you deadpanned.

“And satisfaction brought it back,” he retorted, clearly enjoying the banter.

You groaned. Why did he have to do this to you…? “Well, if you’re satisfied now… you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere else to be.” You pushed yourself off the wall, ready to return to the dance floor – but not without heading towards the bar beforehand and ordering the strongest booze you could get here.

You already set off, as Alastor’s voice called after you, “Running away, are we?”

You stopped in your tracks and closed your eyes, reminding yourself that you were in public and therefore couldn’t just hit his head against a brick. Or…? Well, actually you could. You were in Hell, anyway. But Alastor was much stronger than you, and if you were to attack him, it meant that you couldn't be certain he would no longer be harmless to you. “I am not running away. I just don't see any reason to stay here and be interrogated by you any longer.”

“Interrogated? My dear, I'm simply making conversation.”

“This ain’t a simple conversation if you’re prying into my personal life.” With that you straightened your back and headed back to the main room of the club, leaving Alastor alone in the hallway, completely unaware of the hurt expression on his face.

Part 2 will be out at the end of the month. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

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interact-if · 14 days ago

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Our fifth edition of the Black History Month Author Spotlight series, features Mila (@milaswriting)!

(Mila’s game Golden is one of the games I fell in love with when I first got into Interactive Fiction, and it feels like such a dream to be able to interview her now! It’s so interesting to interview someone who’s been in the IF community for a while now, and see how stories—and their authors—change and evolve as time goes by too.)

Author: Mila

Hello! I’m Mila, a twenty-three year old woman from the UK. Something readers may not know (or probably do considering how much I complain about university), I crave academic validation. I got 90% on an essay I did this year and I was so proud of myself that I’m considering doing a PhD. We’ll see if Dr Mila ever becomes a thing, haha.

Games: Golden (Fantasy, romance, mystery, supernatural)

Short blurb: You work for The Everbrook. A multi-agency organisation in the city of Lehsa that bridges the gap between the human and supernatural world. You’ve been working there for three years now, and you’re suddenly forced to work with a group of allies to solve mysteries that have landed right in the palm of your hand.

Quote from the interview

I wish I could say I’ve had amazing encounters with vampires, magical beings and werewolves to inspire Golden—but that isn’t exactly the case. I’ll let you know if that ever happens though! I’ve always been a bit of a bookworm, more so as a young adult than when I was much younger, but usually the portrayal of poc characters in media wasn’t always shown in a positive light. Or poc characters, when it came to romance, weren’t given the lead roles where a swoon-worthy romance story was played out. To, sort of right those wrongs, and have other black readers like myself, be able to see themselves in the characters of stories—I created a diverse cast of ROs.

Read on for the full interview!

Can you tell me a bit about what you’re working on right now and your journey into interactive fiction? What inspired the game/story you’re currently writing?

I’m currently working on a fantasy supernatural interactive fiction, Golden. Officially, Golden is five years old now. I released it in December 2020 and was regularly writing and working on it for a couple of years. And then I noticed that as I grew from an eighteen/nineteen year old teenager, the ideas I had for my story were different, thus I wanted to make a few changes. A few changes turned into a lot of changes. And now I’m in the process of a whole rewrite, alongside moving to Twine.

Covid was in 2020, and that’s ultimately the year I got into reading interactive fiction too. I first read fanfics of an interactive fiction game, then read the original story itself, and got really into the process of the reader being able to make meaningful choices that impact their reading experience. That was a supernatural story too, and that’s how I ended up creating my own.

When it comes to the changes I’ve made to Golden, the inspiration came from a lot of things. One being my love for mystery, crime and psychology—I wanted that incorporated into the story I’m writing. I love the element of lore and world building, so that’s how I knew the fantasy/supernatural element would be in there. Additionally, my love for found family and complex characters also inspired me to write this story, but to also make the changes I have. Lastly, I’m a hopeless romantic at heart, I adore the stuff! So reading and writing good romance is everything to me.

How has your identity, heritage/background, upbringing, or personal experiences influenced your storytelling or writing process? OR How does your work feature aspects of your identity / experience?

B Holden was the first one I created. I already knew they were going to be a werewolf, and I wanted them as a character to be the complete opposite of how a werewolf is usually described and portrayed. Aggressive, animalistic, dangerous—yet, I’d like to think that B is, and comes off as, someone who is the sunshine that lights up a room, someone who’d make you feel good on a bad day, a kind of person you’ll always want around. From my own personal experiences, I’m a nursing student and I’ll be graduating this year and going into a working environment. I think the changes to Golden emulate that, instead of being a student, the MC is navigating the supernatural world themselves and they’re very immersed into it.

What does your writing process look like? Any rituals or habits? Any tips, tricks, philosophies or approaches that have worked very well for you?

Oh! So, the background is that I love The Naturals series and The Inheritance Games by Jennifer Lynn Barnes, and I got to meet her at a book event in my hometown. And during her talk, she said that she writes with a ‘Writer’s Hit List’. On that list, the writer jots down all of their favourite things that they love about characters, or elements they want their story to have. It’s a bit like a word dump, for example, ‘loves characters that enjoys baked goods’ or ‘loves when character speaks multiple languages’.

Then you end up with a super long list of traits you’d like to give your characters or factors you want your world to have. And you can get your inspiration from literally anything, so that’s something fun to have. You can add to it when you’re not thinking about writing, and then when you have writer’s block, or just want some inspiration, you can open your notes app and see what you wrote down.

Currently, whilst juggling uni and personal life, on my days off/working from home, when I get a burst of inspiration I usually open up my laptop and write in my bedroom or the living room. And whilst writing, I put on ROs’ playlists that I’ve made on Spotify. My new RO, Ireland Monroe, their playlist has been extremely helpful in motivating me to write.

What’re you excited to tackle/implement/work on next? Or anything you’re looking forward to in the year ahead?

I’m excited about getting this rewrite out! I’ve felt really guilty about keeping readers waiting so long for content from me, or just disappointed in myself that I haven’t been able to produce content as quickly as other authors. I know it’s a terrible thing to compare yourself to others, but sometimes it’s one of those things you can’t help. We’re into February now and I genuinely think that I’m getting better at telling myself to just work as best as I possibly can.

But, yeah, I’m excited for people to read and see how Golden’s developed with me as an individual. It’s interesting considering the story has grown up with me, and it’s sort of taken its own shape and whispered to me, “I know you want to change me, don’t be afraid to do so”, and now my nerves about that are near enough gone.

I just want it to be a good writing year overall! So, I’ve got my fingers and toes crossed that the story ideas that play in my head everyday are able to be transferred to screen so others can enjoy them.

If you were to say one thing to your readers, other authors, and/or the interactive fiction community: what would it be? OR If you could change one thing about the interactive fiction community, what would it be?

My advice to readers would be that as writers, we definitely write our stories as an escape and whilst it’s important to write for ourselves, we write with the hopes that you enjoy it too. If there’s a particular scene or character or story that you love, definitely tell that author. It’ll make their day, their week, even. It’s such a wonderful feeling to hear from you guys. And also, just continue to consume the content that’s put out. And just a personal thank you to the readers I have for being patient with me.

For authors, I’d say to have fun writing. If, in your gut, there are changes you’d love to make to your story, then do so. Remember that, no matter what, there’s always going to be at least one person that loves what you write. Always. So, if it’s motivation you want to continue putting words onto paper (or a screen), then that’s it. I also think it’s fun adding a little bit of yourself into your story.

Any books, music, movies etc. you’re obsessed with at the moment, or which changed your life (or perspectives on something)?

I read The Naturals by Jennifer Lynn Barnes and it’s absolutely changed my brain chemistry for the better. I highly recommend it to anyone who likes mystery with a romantic side plot. I love YA murder mystery books, so A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder series, books by Karen McManus. I also love Taylor Jenkins Reid. And, as its black history month, Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé is my favourite black author and she writes queer mystery/thriller books. My favourite of hers is Where Sleeping Girls.

Music: I adore Billie Eilish (Hit Me Hard and Soft should’ve won a Grammy, I will die on this hill!) Noah Kahan and Sam Barber are artists I’ve really been loving at the moment. Gigi Perez as well, Sailor Song and Fable are songs I can never skip.

This-or-that segment: (red = Mila's pick)

Coffee or tea?

Early mornings or late nights?

City or countryside?

Angsty or Cozy romances? (Or enemies-to-lovers or best-friends-to-lovers?)

Steady progress or frenzied binge-writing followed by periods of calm?

Summer or Winter?

First drafts or editing?

Introvert or extrovert? (Gosh, I’m SUCH an introvert)

Plotter or pantser?

Characters or plot first?

Write your own “either-or” pairing: vampires or werewolves? (don’t tell B or K I even asked… I can’t pick between my faves, so I’ll let you guys choose :D)

#interactive fiction #twine game #romance #golden if #interactive game #author feature #interview spotlight #black author month #poc game developer

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