#it lacks some parts but otherwise is a good structure

[honehonn3honey]

A protection that becomes more creepy

Azul in my heart. You can see the original art here and read the monster list here @lustlovehart

[Alt under the cut]

My first concept, since my style could not simulate the texture of slime in its purest state

It is quite thick so water can not enter or wet. Only small puddles where you can accumulate

It is a monster and that, magic, but I can imagine that it can only reach a height by the pressure, it can come out expelled sometimes

[cloversnstrawberries]

“safespace” platonic!yandere!og michael myers & gn!bullied!teen!reader [oneshot] ! !

masterlist !

description; For a while now, you've been using the old Myer's house as a home base of sorts; previously, your bullies had never dared to rush in after you, too afraid of the history of the house. That changed one fateful Halloween night, and unknowingly, you'd just sealed yourself into a fate different from death, but not much better.

The Haddonfield Boogeyman has taken a liking to you, and that's not something you can easily retreat from once it happens. Not safely, for that matter.

additional notes; this is. extremely long and I managed to write it within two days. help. i hope you enjoy it, because it was actually really fun to write. it might be in a bit of a different style than normal, because i've been reading. so much junji ito & gothic lit and i don't know if that affects anything.

warnings; bullying, possessive behavior, overprotectiveness, Michael being unsettling, discussions of past murder (judith primarily), violence, blood & gore, murder/murder of teens (reader's bullies), slight/implied neglect (reader's parents are very lax), soft michael (as soft as he can get), kidnapping/imprisonment, and if there's any I missed, please let me know!! i do believe this is the most intense (?) one i've posted so far?? mayhaps?

w/c; 10.2k (OH SWEET MOTHER OF PEARL!)

It’s silly, stupid, some would say-- and you know it is. You know it’s not a good idea to set up shop in the old Myer’s house, and that it was, realistically, the least safe place you could camp out at in Haddonfield,

Structurally speaking, considering how long it’s sat vacant and unattended for the most part. The story and tragedy surrounding it kept squatters away, but it was surprisingly easy to sneak into.

For you, it was one of the safest places possible-- because everyone knows about how unsafe it was. An oxymoron in a way, that you claimed this old rickety house as your safe space because you know it’s dangerous.

Because your tormentors know it’s unsafe, so they’ll leave you be for the most part-- once you’re inside the house that should’ve been torn down ages ago.

It’s a nice house, but you’re sure someone will roll up to a city council meeting and propose tearing down the place. No one’s going to buy it, no amount of polishing the hardwood floors and replacing the peeling wallpaper is going to change that.

The Myer’s house could be renovated into the most gorgeous, affordable home for a good sized family-- and still, no one would buy it.

Judith Myer’s blood, spilt by her own little brother one normal Halloween night, was like a curse laid on the house. Even you have to admit, there’s a strangely foreboding, suffocating atmosphere about it that doesn’t suit how… plain it otherwise appears.

For a few years now, you’ve had your claim staked on this house. Over those few years, you’ve gotten used to that atmosphere. It even began to feel comforting, at some point-- like a hug, kind of.

Your bullies know you’re in here, but they can’t bring themselves to enter it and drag you out. Sometimes they’ll wait outside for you, but don’t take into consideration is that you’ve supplied yourself with enough snacks and various forms of entertainment to be able to wait them out most times.

Cowards, the lot of them-- that’s all they ever were to you. A bunch of unruly, rich assholes that take their grievances out on you for lack of a different outlet,

More like you’re the most interesting outlet-- you’re sure their parents have enough money to get them another way, other than razzing and beating on you constantly-- but they don’t want it.

They like watching you cry, the sickos. But that’s not a sight they get to see too often; not since you’ve almost accidentally made the old Myer’s house into your own kind of fortress,

Guarded by a moat of bad energy and an awful story behind it. Judith still lingers, maybe not her ghost like most would think-- but she’s there.

One time, you walked into her room. It was almost pristine, kept nearly the same as the night she died, you think. The blood is gone, but the chair to her vanity is still knocked over.

You haven’t gone near that room since that one time-- spotting the rotting bag of melted taffy on her bedside table, her brush on the vanity top with golden hair still stuck in the bristles; an opened bottle of lip gloss, long dried up…

It made you sick like nothing before or after could, the knowledge that this was just a normal girl. A normal girl who expected to live another day, to eat the taffy by her bed, knowing she had to clean her hair out of her brush eventually--

She never even got to screw the cap back on her lip gloss, maybe her favorite one if you think about it. A part of you wanted to do it for her, to clean up her room a little for no real reason other than self-imposed obligation.

You’re taking up this space illegally, not quite a squatter, but still a consistent trespasser. The least you could do was clean it up for a family who’ll never come back.

But then, wouldn’t that be rude to mess with a deceased person’s belongings? You stepped out of the room, shutting the door as you clutched your stomach. In your mind, you barred off ever entering it again.

You’ve only had a peak in the little boy’s room-- Michael. Such an ordinary name, and an ordinary room to match. Hell, he could’ve been your little brother, it all appeared so average from the quick look-see you’d gotten.

As soon as you realized who’s room it was, you slammed the door and vowed to never open it again. You didn’t even go near it most times, if at all.

How can someone so normal-- a child so young, just snap like that? It made you sad, thinking about it.

Eventually, you knew it’d come to this, though. When your bullies’ need to torture you overrode the fear, and they followed you into your previously impenetrable fortress.

Your safe-space desecrated, the next time to ran in-- nothing too damaging to the actual house, but your books and magazines were torn. Snacks either eaten or crushed, and the little nest of pillows and blankets you brought from home was tossed around, dirty footprints all over.

“You’re such a coward,” the head boy spoke up, and you know his dad was a real estate agent, the one that oversaw the house, you think. That’s why there wasn’t any real damage to the place.

In your anger and grief, at your one good thing being wrecked like this; you spoke up. These kids-- no, you all weren’t kids anymore by most’s standards. Well into high school, and they were still messing with you for no good reason.

Tears welled in your eyes, not from sadness but from rage. You’d been chased in by two other kids, who were now behind you. Two kids were already inside along with the head boy,

You were surrounded, 5-to-1, and stood no chance. Not because you couldn’t fight physically, but because you knew the consequences of fighting back against these daddy’s money types.

They’ve broken bones before-- your bones, but if you so much as left a scratch on them, they ran to their parents and the repercussions were… dire.

You’d nearly been booted put of school before, because you left a tiny, already healing bruise of one of the girl’s arms after you shoved her down so you could flee.

“Look who’s saying that!” It’s not like you haven’t fought back with your words before, but it’d never been this up close as of late. You’d grown too comfortable, taunting the kids through the door as you did.

Poking a sleeping bear. You really wished this method could’ve lasted a bit longer, hopefully until after you finished high school and left Haddonfield; but beggars can’t be choosers.

You’re lucky it’s worked for this long anyways.

Before the kids could say anything, you started on a tirade. Letting out every little grievance you’ve had over the years-- they can’t let you have this one good thing.

They all get friends upon friends, secret admirers and good partners; they participate in school, they’re active in the community-- meanwhile you’ve been shunned for a good half of your life, resorting to hiding in an abandoned house while they were out living their best lives.

Once you were done, chest heaving up and down, did they say anything further. They mocked you, of course they did-- and when you asked “So what are you gonna do now, huh? Break a couple fingers? Strangle me? Kick me until I’m bruised all over--!”

They called you unoriginal, then grabbed ahold of you. They wrapped rope around your wrists and ankles-- then started dragging you upstairs.

No.

And they didn’t tell you their plan, but you were smart. You picked up on it, especially from how they were talking about the recent breakout from the nearby mental institution.

The institute currently home to none other than the Haddonfield Boogeyman himself, Michael Myers. Or, more accurately, no longer housing the man.

He was among the escaped, one of the few that hadn’t been rounded up after the transport bus crash-- it was October 31st.

You were doomed.

They dragged you to the little boys room, the atmosphere you’d become accustomed to suddenly cranked up to 11, choking you, clinging to the inside of your throat like cling-wrap. Making it hard to breathe, as they tossed you into Michael’s room,

And boy, did they really not want you to leave without their help. They tied you to the wooden poster of the bed, and you couldn’t help but cry.

Ghost stories about Judith staying behind were all fine and dandy, but the very much alive perpetrator being on the loose? The one who’s spent the past god-knows-how-long confined in a mental hospital, since he was a child?

That was a real threat, because it was to some extent predictable and unpredictable what he’d do next. There was no set guarantee that he’d stop by his childhood home, but there was a chance.

And the bullies knew it.

“Stop! Stop, I’m sorry--!” You hated groveling, but this was a real threat. This wasn’t funny-- it hadn’t been for a long time, but this time you can’t comprehend why they’d be laughing at all.

It’s not funny.

You could die. Even if it’s a slim chance of happening, there is a chance nonetheless. A chance greatly increased by Myer’s unpredicted ‘discharge’ from the hospital.

As always, they didn’t care. They were all giggles and smiles as they bid you farewell-- you heard another door open, then a scraping sound as something was set down in front of the door.

You’re sure it was Judith’s vanity chair, that they’d pressed under the door handle. Why? Why do they hate you so much-- there wasn’t even a promise of them returning, either.

Even if the Boogeyman doesn’t show up like you’re afraid of, they might just leave you here to rot with the house. No one would come looking for you, you don’t think-- unless they’re pointed in this direction by your bullies.

What an awful way to spend your Halloween night, huh? Not like you had much planned in the first place, but still.

This isn’t a position you wanted to be in right now. Or ever, thank you very much.

It got dark out a while ago. Inside here, somewhere, there's a clock that still works. Or maybe you’re already going crazy, imagining the ‘tick-tick-tick’ to try and make something for you to do.

Restrained as you are, it’s not like you can do much besides slump against the bed and wait it out. Hope your exhaustion from coming down after an adrenaline rush takes you out sooner or later, because it’s getting awfully boring.

Boredom overrode fear, maybe because you’re loopy from said exhaustion, but too high strung and uncomfortable, sitting on the hardwood floor with your wrists and ankles tied, to take a little nap as it is.

Throughout it all, you kept your eyes shut. Not because you particularly want to sleep, (though you do want to, if only to pass the time quicker) but because you’re trying to pretend you’re anywhere else but here, on this night, at this hour.

Your only other hope at being released right now was if some stupid kid got dared to come in here, like they did every Halloween. But the outlook wasn’t too good, considering the different framing the Myer’s house had with Michael’s recent escape still fresh on everyone’s minds.

Distantly, you can hear kids laughing, screaming, playing around-- all in good fun. You ache, sad that the experience of it had been cut short for you. For years now, you’ve stayed inside as much as possible.

Even on Halloween, and it hurt. Childhood cut short because some rich kids decided to make you their stress toy, punching bag, and scapegoat all in one.

When you hear a creak downstairs, you fight with yourself not to open your eyes. It’ll be pitch black anyways, your reason with yourself. It’ll only make you panic even more.

It was futile, trying to convince yourself that it was just the house settling. For hours, all you’ve been able to hear for the most part was the house settling.

This was different.

Someone was downstairs-- no joking, no yelling at their friends, no egging each other on; and it wasn’t a cop either, because they’d be shouting by now, telling anyone in here to get the hell out before you’re arrested.

It was uncanny, how quiet this person was-- both literally and with their movement. You first heard them faintly, on an especially creaky board near the front door. Then nothing-- until you heard them on the 3rd step, the one that’s about to cave at any moment from termite damage.

A primal kind of terror curled deep in your gut, the hair on the back of your neck stood straight up; silence again, until you think the person stopped moving.

Straining your ears, you heard a semi-familiar scraping noise. Whoever it was, was standing in front of this room, and was planning on entering it.

Your eyes flung open, desperately blinking as you tried to force your vision to adjust to the darkness. Surprisingly, the room was a lot lighter than you’d think it be.

No doubt aided by the moth-ravaged curtains serving as the only barrier(s) between the moonlight shining in through the windows.

When the door opened, your heart soared for a moment-- someone wearing work-boots and a mechanic’s jumpsuit. An adult, a scarily quiet adult, but hopefully a responsible one.

All hope was dashed when you looked up at your savior-- and saw a sun-bleached, cheap Captain Kirk Halloween mask staring back at you. Something glinted off the moonlight, you looked down and sure enough; he was clutching a large kitchen knife.

Maybe it was an impersonator, or not Michael at all-- But something made you doubt both ideas. The kitchen knife was a big giveaway, not the plastic kind with fake blood, or a retractable prop one.

It was real, as real as your terror-- was this a hallucination? That thought soothed you more than it should have. Or maybe a dream-- and that’s what made you work up enough courage to speak,

“…Hello.” Voice croaky and trembling, it took away from the casual aspect of the greeting. Trying your best not to look at the knife, or the unsettling mask, you took to staring at the person’s boots.

They looked bloody, drying and tacky-- and you did your best to ignore that for right now. The floor was interesting. Yeah, you opted for looking at the floor instead as you continued, introducing yourself with a shaky voice.

The person didn’t answer you, but they didn’t attack you either. You looked back up at their mask and-- wow, you must look pathetic, you realize now. Eye’s puffy and red from crying, lips chapped and bitten to hell and back, your voice nasally from your stuffed nose.

After a couple minutes of agonizing silence, the person started to move forward-- slow, almost placatingly so, like they were dealing with a startled animal.

You think that’s a very apt comparison, right now. As you jerk away, uncaring as the wooden post dug into your spine-- glancing at the person’s knife, you tried to swallow past a lump in your throat “Don’t hurt me-- please. I-I don’t have much to say, uhm, other than that.”

In all honesty, you don’t think you’re that important of a person-- in everyone else’s eyes, that is. You won’t be missed by a good majority of Haddonfield, and that’s what makes you want to live this through.

For a moment, the person stopped dead in their tracks-- and slowly shook their head. That could be interrupted one of two ways,

One, they have agreed to not hurt you. They shook their head as in ‘okay, i won’t hurt you’, or the more likely option in your mind-- considering they still held onto the knife-- they were disagreeing with your plea.

When they went to move again, you jerked back again. It didn’t do much, and wouldn’t do much unless you suddenly gained the ability to fuse with objects, that is.

The person stopped dead in their tracks again-- even taking a few steps back, and shook their head again. You piped up, despite the way your heart pounded and blood rushed in your ears.

“I-I don’t know what you mean. By that-- the shaking your head.” Almost as an afterthought, you tacked on “I’m sorry.”

Make no mistake, it was a genuine apology. Originally brought on by fear, yes, but you did regret not understanding them nonetheless.

When they started moving again, they were slower. You would’ve felt insulted, being treated like a wild animal ready to bolt-- if this had been a normal situation.

Right now, though? You appreciate how careful they seem to be, as they make their way to the little desk pushed up near the head of the bed.

The placement of the furniture in this room was odd, in your humble opinion-- the desk was where a nightstand would be, but what you assume to have been the nightstand was pushed under a window on the far side from the bed.

Then again, you can’t really expect interior decorating to be the specialty of the homicidal 6 year old that once lived here.

Reaching into the second drawer down, the person pulled out a little journal-- and crouched down to grab a pencil off the ground, before standing back up.

they’re too comfortable here, you anxiously realized. Almost like they’d put that stuff there-- but this can’t be Myers. If or was, wouldn’t he be hacking at you with his knife by now?

The stranger (which you’re hoping and praying isn’t who you think it is) set their knife down on the desk, much to your surprise. You don’t want to touch on why it surprised you, not right now, anyway.

Again, the person moved slowly, this time without the knife-- which let you relax enough to stop trying to actively fuse with the wooden bed frame. For now, at least-- who knows what the near future may hold, maybe you’ll succeed in it.

Weirder things have happened, and weirder things are happening right now-- as the stranger plops down on the floor, just a few feet away from where you sat restrained.

You couldn’t help but smile, as they sat criss-cross applesauce-- half delirious and sleep-deprived, yes, but a smile nonetheless.

Flipping to a page, that was random to you, hut didn’t seem to be to the person, they put the pencil to the paper and started writing something.

Refraining from trying to discern what it is they’re writing. you waited patiently until they stopped and turned the pad to face you,

Heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach, you read the words (god he presses hard with that pencil, even left dents in the paper from what you can tell) written on the pad.

“I won’t hurt you. It’s too easy.”

Simultaneously relieving and distressing-- the confirmation that you won’t be hurt (for now, you’re choosing to believe this person), but the ‘reassurance’ that it’s because you were too big of a target. Too obvious of a target,

If only your bullies had taken that sentiment to heart, too. Then you wouldn’t be here in the first place.

Curiosity outweighing your caution, you ask “What’s your name?”, despite being about… 85% sure you know who this is.

Turning the pad back around, he scribbles something else. When it’s facing you again, you can very clearly ready what name he’s written down.

“Michael”

You can tell yourself ‘It’s a common name!’ all you want, but that didn’t stomp out the feeling of dread as your suspicion was proven correct.

This was the one thing you’d hoped desperately to be wrong about. Guess life just hates you like that, huh?

You’d say it couldn’t get any worse-- but this is actually going pretty well, all things considered. You aren’t dead, and he’s actually communicating with you-- so that’s something, right?

“Is… was this your room?” For once, his answer was immediate-- he nodded. You suppose there was no reason to hide it, your face must be showing that you figured it out already.

It fell silent, and you didn’t know how to feel about that. Glancing around, you spotted an older edition of Clue sitting on a bookshelf nearby-- right on the top.

Looking back at the man-- Michael, the Michael Myers, which is a fact you’re trying not to dwell on too right right now-- you hazarded to say “Do you wanna, uh-- do you like board games?”

Tragically, he didn’t respond as quick this time. Leaving you to wallow in your own thoughts, wondering if you’d misstepped right into his steadily growing roster of victims.

a short, almost jerky nod, following by him abruptly standing made you jump. Hilariously, he seemed to jump as well; just a little twitch of his hands, but it was reaction nonetheless. You think that’s the closest you’re going to get to scaring a guy like him.

Then he headed to the bookshelf, and easily grabbed Clue from the top. He hadn’t always been this tall, obviously-- you spotted a step ladder, rusted and coated in dust like a majority of the room (and house as a whole) is;

It’s a cute thought, the idea that the kid this bedroom belonged to needed a step ladder to grab a boardgame. As you looked closer, you saw quite a few boardgames up there that you hadn’t noticed before,

The idea that Michael Myers was such a mundane kid, with an interest in board games-- liking them so much that he needed to have a step ladder of his own because he accessed them so much, was a jarring idea.

Another jarring idea-- or realization, more like, is that he must’ve been watching your line of sight very closely to immediately figure out that you were referring to the Clue game.

Before you could get pulled into a panic attack in full (you’ve narrowly been avoiding such a thing by pretending that this was some dream, and you had managed to fall asleep against the dusty children’s bed), Michael came back and sat down again,

This time, he was a little further away. He set the box down, and started opening it-- before you stumbled over your words, remembering that you were a little tied up right now.

“Do-- can you undo the rope around my wrists?” Slowly, ever so slowly, Michael’s head rose from where he’d been looking down to set up the game, black eyeholes eventually meeting your gaze.

Another nod, and he stood. Walking over to the desk, you realized your mistake in wording-- and as you feared, he picked up his knife again.

You’d said undo, not untie. It’s not a stretch to think that meant you have permission for him to cut the rope.

Let’s just hope he doesn’t catch any flesh while he does, yeah? When he walked back over, closer than he’d been this whole time, you valiantly fought back the urge to scream. To tremble, kick, try to fight--

Something about the way he crouched down by your side, still taller than you, with the knife gleaming made you feel vulnerable like never before. It made you feel exposed, flayed open and waiting to prepared into clean cuts of meat for packaging.

Michael was careful with it, his hold almost gentle on your arms, silently telling you hold still as he hooked the knife under the ropes and began to pull up.

Must’ve been a pretty damn sharp knife, or maybe some exceptionally cheap rope on your bullies’ parts, but either way, he got you free pretty easily.

Avoiding any sudden movement, testing the waters; you lowered your hands down to your lap. Michael stayed there a few seconds more, before quickly walking back to desk the drop the knife off on top.

When he came back, you’d already started sorting the cards-- which had gotten a little jumbled in the box. He set up the board, meanwhile.

Is it a very sad thing to say, that you felt more connected to this enigmatic, urban legend-esque serial killer (well, he killed one person definitely and a few other were suspected, but the knife didn’t paint a very good picture) than you did your classmates?

In part, that may be your fault. Alright, it may actually be mostly your fault-- but you were self-isolating for a reason.

You wouldn’t want any possible close friends to incur the wrath of your tormenters-- and become another victim, just for being near you.

Something tells you that Michael wouldn’t-- literally couldn’t-- succumb to that fate for obvious reasons. Maybe that’s why, as you two played a couple rounds of Clue before a cop came nosing around the place, you felt the safest you ever have.

And when the cop did show up, Michael was gone in an instant, almost like a ghost; but you knew better. He just had very quiet footsteps, the kind you would think impossible to achieve with his height and all.

You stayed in that room, waiting until you were sure Michael was gone to shout for help-- the cop came, and you hoped it gave Michael ample time to hide or run if need be.

And you didn’t rat on him-- to show your gratitude for him, y’know, not killing you. And being the closest thing to a friend you’ve both been allowed and allowed yourself to have as of late.

The cop walked you out-- but not before you noticed a little note folded on the accent table near the front door. “meet again?” it read, the pencil still lying next to it.

Taking a short detour, you quickly scrawled "yes :)" and while the smiley face was shaky at best, you hope he'd get the message. Besides, something tells you he'd understand that you were being rushed by the cop right now.

Because something also tells you that he's still here, watching-- you just don't know where. It's the way your skin crawls under the feeling of eyes on you, that tips you off.

When you leave the Myer's house this time around, you don't dread exiting it, some part of you afraid that your bullies had waited it out on the porch, or the yard. Maybe it's because you have a cop escorting you out this time,

Or maybe it's the lingering feeling of the Haddonfield Boogeyman himself keeping on eye on you. Presumably, of course.

The next time you visit the Myer's house, you aren't being chased in for once. If you were, there'd be no real reason to hide in here anyways. Your tormentors evolved, now being able to enter what you previously considered you safespace.

But you had to be sneaky regardless, as the country sheriff had been observed walking around the premise. Maybe to catch Michael, who was still on the loose as far as you knew, or to prevent foolhardy kids from entering the house on a dare.

That'd always been an issue, but before now the cops never cared to do much. The kids almost always psyched themselves out after taking a few steps into the house anyways, and there was hardly any vandalism to worry about.

Now, however, it was far more about keeping the kids themselves safe rather than the house. When you got there, the country sheriff was nowhere to be seen; there was a cop car in the driveway, but you recognized it as one of the ones used for false speed traps.

There was no one in there, and no cop in the house either. The car was enough to deter most, but you've been coming here for a while. They've done something like this before, especially around Halloween.

The difference came with the fact that it was November 3rd, and they usually did away with the deterrent by now. They have good reason, considering you know Michael Myer's is definitely in the house, or at least visiting regularly, but it's a little annoying.

Knowing they'll keep this up for a while longer, indefinitely, and you haven no way of telling if they suddenly decide to plant a cop inside the house to switch things up.

You entered through the back kitchen door, something you don't often do. Usually, when you enter this place, you don't care how you enter it-- just the closest possible entryway.

Which was usually the front door, or a window on the side that's easy to open from the outside. But this time, you get the luxury of picking where you get to enter from.

You brought a wrist watch with you, to monitor the time. Your parents never cared about how late you stayed out before,

But after a cop showed up at their door, you in tow, informing them that you'd been 'hanging out' in the old Myer's house (of course he left out the part where your ankles were bound), suddenly they had something to say about what time you returned home.

And maybe you'd think it was annoying, if you didn't know they had good reason for it. Honestly, you don't know what possessed you to come back here. To agree to meet up again, with a known murderer.

Years of isolation and ostracization at the hands of your peers and bullies alike must've corroded a part of your brain, is your theory. Your need for friendship and belonging was so big that you settled for meeting with a Boogeyman for social interaction.

A Boogeyman that was both parts legend and fact, because when you headed upstairs-- and was almost scared so bad you tumbled down the stairs, when you saw that sun-bleached mask staring back at you.

There was no way you could stifle the little shriek you let out when you felt a hand, large and warm and real-- wrap around your upper arm, your entire body going tense as you were pulled forward, and you could already imagine how it'd feel to have the blade of a kitchen knife lodged deep in your stomach and--

But no pain came, your eyes screwed shut out of terror, you didn't keep track of where he was taking you. In this blinding moment of fear, you forgot all about why you came here in the first place.

This was a bad idea, coming back here when you'd escaped last time by the skin of your teeth, and a few rounds of playing a murder mystery board game with a real mysterious murderer.

When you were pulled to a stop, static filling your ears as your heart pounded a mile a minute, you didn't open your eyes at first. Not until Michael let go of you, and your eyes promptly shot open.

It was only 5:12PM, so there was still some sun shining in through the motheaten curtains, but it wasn't much and you knew it wouldn't be staying for long. It casted long, eerie shadows into the room.

But nothing could compare to how to fell on Michael's mask, making it even more menacing than before. Who thought that a cheap reproduction of William Shatner's face was strike such fear in you?

He was just standing there, which you guess you can't fault him for. When he noticed you were looking at him, he pointed to the floor, near the foot of the bed. Where you'd been sitting last time.

Taking the hint, you quickly plopped down, this time unhindered by ropes restraining you. Funnily enough, you were subconsciously treating Michael as a dinosaur; a T-rex, to be specific.

You moved slowly, trying not to trigger his prey drive or whatever. Trying to make yourself seem as small and weak as you could, to try and keep up his sentiment of “I won’t hurt you. It’s too easy.”

Awkwardly clearing your throat, you tried to start a conversation as Michael walked over to the bookshelf again. "Uh-- so... how have you been?" Obviously, he doesn't respond.

Honestly, you don't know where you're going with this. You try to save yourself, by adding on "Have you been good?", and after a moment, you saw him nod from behind-- as he stood, facing the bookshelf.

He didn't reach up for any game, just slowly turned to face you; when you finally realized he was giving you room to choose, you panicked and squeaked out a little "Sorry--"

Comically, you'd forgotten that was a game-- and game he had, apparently, as he pulled away a few other games and got it out from the back. Task failed successfully, as your math teacher always said back in 7th grade.

When he came back over, you weren't any less high strung. He didn't seem to care-- maybe he didn't even notice-- and went about setting up the game. You busied yourself with reading the manual, having forgotten how to play it.

You weren't perfect with it, though. Sometimes you'd mess up, and it'd lead to Michael moving your piece back to where it'd been, or just pointing at the manual again; sitting innocently beside you on the floor, easy access.

Eventually, when you finished up the first game, only 34 minutes had passed. The sun was almost completely down, but something kept you rooted to your spot for a little longer. A few more rounds of Sorry, and you were well on your way to worrying your parents;

It was only 7:18PM now, but it was November. The sun was long set, and you were getting antsy to leave. After your fifth game concluded, you quickly blurted out "I have to go home."

You tried your best to catch Michael before he started setting up for another round, to minimize any irritation-- but it was obvious he'd been expecting to have another go at it.

Slowly, as everything he seemed to do was either methodically slow or terrifyingly quick with no in between yet to be seen, he lifted his head and stared at you point blank. His eyes hidden behind the mask, but that didn't mean there was any room for you to delude yourself into think he didn't have his full, undivided attention on you.

"My parents will be worried, they're already, uh, suspicious of how late I stay out." Michael doesn't move at all, staying still as a statue, just like you are. You don't make any move to get up, not until you get his express permission.

No matter how human he seems, playing board games so innocently with you-- the fact he was a cold-blooded killer never left your mind. There was no lead-up to his original snap, when he slaughtered his sister in the room just across the hall.

There's no reason to think you'd be an exception to that. One moment it could be fine, and the next you'll be bleeding out on the floor; it made you uneasy, for good reason.

Relief flooded you, a weight lifted from your shoulders as Michael nodded, the relief was pulled away when he stood and approached you-- but reinstated when he got close, just to extend a hand and offer to help you up, it seems.

Palm up, slow with his movements. Like he was dealing with an especially skittish dog. You felt like one, cornered as you were-- but you took his hand, and he was...

Well, it was like he tried to be gentle, but he didn't know how to be. He pulled roughly, but the way his grip faltered when you stumbled-- how he caught you with his other arm, almost desperate. Like he didn't know his own strength.

That terrified you more than the idea that he'd stab a knife through you. The idea that it was more likely for him to accidentally hurt you, how he was trying to restrain himself but it'd always end the same way.

In your panic, you didn't realize the way you'd grabbed onto him. Almost like a hug, one you pulled away from quickly. His arm lingered on your back, barring you from gaining any meaningful distance from him. Before you could think to panic some more, he let you go.

Grabbing onto your hand, he led you out of the room. Down the stairs, and to the living room. He didn't drop your hand once, even as he opened the door and pulled it open for you,

It was you, who wrestled away from the hold. You were on edge, freedom so close you could taste it-- the frigid midwestern wind blowing against your face had never felt so nice, a reprieve from the stifling presence that is Haddonfield's own personal Boogeyman.

Belatedly, you realized what he'd done. He walked you to the door, and he let you pull your hand from his grasp. if he didn't want you too, it'd be easy to not let it happen. His arm stayed where it was for a moment, before dropping heavily by his side.

You took a few small, miniscule steps; careful as you crossed the boundary between the inside of the house and the porch. Michael made no move to stop you,

A part of you wanted to run, a vestigial part of the human mind; buried, fear for something so closely human but so damningly not. Something that landed in the uncanny valley, when it should be human but something was off.

Michael Myer's was the only thing that's ever dredged up this forgotten kind of terror, something that was bigger than you'd ever be resided in him, you think. Deep down, though, you knew you two were similar. Similar enough for him to take mercy on you, for whatever reason.

Similar how? Well, you just don't know, but it's all you can think of as to why he's doing this. Why he not only let you go, but asked for your return-- not to cut a loose thread, but to play board games.

A few steps further, and you stood on the edge of the porch. When you turned around, seeing Michael standing in the doorway like it was normal; like either of you were normal, softened something in you.

Fear loosened it's hold on you, and in that moment, all you could do was smile and give a little wave, saying "I'll see you again?" He nodded, slow again. Smile growing wider, you let yourself giggle-- why? You don't know, you didn't find anything funny. It just felt right.

"Okay. I'll... see you later, I might get grounded for this, so it might be a while." You flashed a little thumbs up, before turning around and staring at the three short steps before you.

Feeling freer than you had in years, a bit of your childhood returned to you-- the childhood stolen by your bullies, you let yourself take a few steps back; gaining a running start, you hopped all three stairs.

Landing hard on the concrete, you wobbled a bit. Legs shaky from sitting for so long, but you didn't fall. If you had, you probably would've scraped your knees-- and the idea of it was freeing.

Being able to get hurt in such a meaningless way, getting hurt in a way kids should be getting hurt. Not coming home with broken ribs after school, before shutting yourself away in your room and seldom going outside, But coming home with a big smile, despite the shallow cuts on your legs.

When you turned around again, the door was closed-- but you saw a hint of movement from the window beside it, and sure enough, you saw the telltale white of Michael's mask.

You spared another wave, before you were off on your way.

5 months.

It's been roughly 5 months, since you started hanging around Michael. The feeling of guilt comes and goes on a whim, when you'd remember who this really was. A few more murders, some rich people from the nicer part of Haddonfield; the news attributed it to Michael Myers, which you couldn't argue with.

You could turn him in. You should turn him in, should've done it ages ago, you know-- but you can't bring yourself to do the right thing. It's wholly selfish, your want to keep him a well-hidden secret.

As sad as it was, he was your only friend. He didn't ask questions like your parents, questions that never lead anywhere-- it didn't matter if you told them the truth or not,

Whether or not you said "it was awful, the kids are still bullying me" or "it was okay" when they asked "how was school?", you always got the same kind of meaningless, cookie cutter response.

Sometimes it was more insulting, though, when you used to answer truthfully. Condescending, as your mom once again told you to "Think of what they're going through" and it irked you. She's the one who took the brunt of the bills, had to do the co-pay after you got a cast for your broken arm.

Those kids... they aren't bullying you because their life is bad. The worst they've gone through is their favorite perfume being out of stock, or their siblings got to have the TV remote the night prior.

Why should you give them that kind of consideration, when they obviously didn't spare you a second thought? You had a metal bat by your bed for a reason, walking everywhere with a small switchblade nestled in your coat pocket.

You never used it, but even Haddonfield could be dangerous-- there were three main sections of it, the Diamond District, a gated community for the ultra rich; the suburbs, and the closest to 'slums' as it got.

Where you lived, far from the white picket fences of the suburbs, and the glitzy modern exteriors of the Diamond District

But now, you practically live at the old Myer's house. Your bullies are still after you, but you always try to lose them before making it to the Myer's house. You hated them, but you didn't like the possibility of Michael going berserk on them.

He's probably snap at you too, and you wouldn't know how to cope with it-- for the remaining few minutes of your life, that your only friend would turn on you on a dime. Even though you knew it from the get, that this was dangerous. This agreement.

Sometimes you slept over, and you'd tell your parents that you finally made a friend. They wanted to meet them, but you'd just say they're shy, or something along those lines.

It was on accident, the first time you did it. It was in the dead of winter, bundled up in your outerwear while in the house. It was cold, and Michael was kind enough to wrap a few blankets around you.

And you kept delaying leaving, as cold as it was in the old Myer's house, you knew it'd be worse outside. You ended up falling asleep, waking up when the sun began to rise.

Michael came in, and handed you a granola bar. You don't know how he sourced it-- sourced snacks he'd give you, but you never thought to ask. You wanted to, but you never actually considered prying.

You scarfed it, before saying your gratitudes, goodbyes, and rushing out the door-- your parents were surprisingly lax with it. Under the false pretense that you'd been safe and sound in a warm house, with your friend from school.

Besides, everyone assumed that Myer's had moved on back then. There was this 3 month gap between his killings, and even when that broke, they were sparse enough that your parent's still didn't care much.

It was early April, and it was getting nice out again. You've managed to avoid your bullies trailing you as of late, by... just letting them whatever at school. It's not like they want to brave the cold weather anyways, so you knew sooner or later they'd start harassing you outside of school again.

Even if you let them hurt you at school, do whatever they please-- it still won't be enough. It'll never be enough, nothing will for people like them. You just can't wait to graduate and get the hell out of dodge.

The past few weeks, they've been trying to follow you. Every time they did, you managed to lose them; probably because they weren't too intent on it yet. They liked toying with you, but didn't care enough to keep following after a certain amount of times.

As a diversion, you've been sitting around the park a lot, in a little grotto near the playground no one plays on anymore. It's wooden, rotted, and should've been torn down ages ago-- the swings are still functional though, if a little squeaky.

It wasn't a stretch to assume you'd succeeded in tricking them; that they assumed this was your new home base. Again, no matter how much you hated them, you didn't want them dead.

And you definitely didn't want to be the one responsible for leading them to their death; to the murderer you deemed a friend, your only one. It was a moral dilemma. Michael was still a killer, and you should turn him in--

But you don't. Again, it was selfish, but he wasn't... doing that much harm right now. Just a few people, rich people who you have no connection to. It makes you sick, the fact you, by default, don't care that much.

You care, you care when you realize they were people with lives and families, that they were just like Judith. Ever since you started coming to the old Myer's house, you've been making a picture of her in your head.

Those people, too, had taffy left uneaten by their bedside. Hair brushes to clean, caps that needed to be screwed back on lip glosses; not those items exactly, you're sure, but the allegory stood the same.

The guilt is unbearable somedays, the idea that you're also partly responsible for those people's death. If you'd just turned in him, then you wouldn't have gotten in this deep.

just a bit longer, you tell yourself. I'll... report him if he kills anyone else, but maybe he's getting better, you think-- knowing more than well he isn't.

He's stagnant right now, but that's because he's satiated. Maybe by your near-daily meetings, the feeling of human contact that he probably hasn't felt since he was child. Since before he was locked up from such a young age.

i hope it stays that way, and deep down, you know it's in vain; recognizing that hope will do no good in situation like this, when dealing with a man-- an entity-- like Michael Myers.

This can't be real. It's a nightmare, it's a nightmare-- you can scream it all you want, but it won't take away from the scene before you.

You were toying with danger, with death itself; you stared in its face and dared to call it a friend, and look where that got you. It was always going to end like this, wasn't it? And you knew, you knew it would but that didn't stop you from it.

A lonely child will always seek the comfort of anyone who offers it without hesitation, and no matter how much you've grown-- how close you are to being an adult, teetering just on that edge,

Once a lonely child, always a lonely child. The bruises have healed, but it still feels like they're marring every inch of your skin; ribs that were broken are just fine now, but if you move too quick you swear you can feel them like you'd felt them back then.

"Why?" Your voice is choked, and you haven't felt this afraid in a long time. Cowering as you were, in the far corner of the attic. A large circular window loomed behind you, casting light onto you like Heaven was calling you home.

Do you even deserve Heaven, though? You might not have been the one to wield the knife, but you're guilty by association. There was no blood on you, but your hands were still painted red.

All five of them, crumpled on the ground; they looked so scared, but something in the back of your mind told you that they'd never understand true fear. This was momentary, before they met their swift end,

They didn't know the fear of anticipation. The fear of never knowing what would happen next, when or how it would come about; but just knowing that it would. That you weren’t at the end of the tunnel just yet, and fearing that you never would be.

Michael just stands there, unmoving. His head tilted like a curious bird, like the crows you fed at the park sometimes. He wasn't wearing the mechanic's suit anymore-- you'd bring him clothes when you could, picked up from thrift shops or garage/yard sales;

It felt even more damning, the red staining his previously pristine sky blue t-shirt. The shirt you’d given to him. Blood once again caked on his shoes, after he'd worked so hard to clean them when you expressed discomfort at it once.

The mask never came off, you never saw his face-- but at this point, you feel like any face that wasn't the mask wouldn't be Michael's. The most you've seen was up to his mouth, when he'd eat with you sometimes.

Again, as you pull your knees to your chest, and fight to hold back a shuddering cry, you ask "Why? Why would you do this?"

And he just stands there. He just stands there and stares at you like he always has, like he always will. You've long come to terms with the fact that he doesn't speak, and in your opinion it makes him a little easier to interact with.

Slow, steady steps-- he turns, and walks to entrance of the attic. He climbs down, leaving you alone for now. With no way to tell the time, you just sit there. The sun doesn't dim, since it was just a little past noon when you got here.

When you saw that note on the accent table near the door, telling you come up to the attic. You didn't question it, you didn't think anything was amiss until you were halfway into the room and Michael stood between you and the exit, bloodied and pointing to the heap of bodies.

Bodies that had once been so full of life, active in the community; beloved by most, feared by others. The golden boys and girls, the ones everyone strives to be or envies in some ways, unless you happen to be their punching bag.

Even with how terrible they were, it wasn't meant to end like this. You shake and tremble as you press your face against your knees; you don't forgive them, you never would, but they have lives.

Had lives, something you were never afforded the luxury of, holed up in your room half the time, and hanging out with the serial killer that did them in the rest of the time.

Michael was being loud, louder than you've ever known him to be. All you could think was maybe... he was trying to ease your worries? Wordlessly let you know that he wasn't going to sneak up and add you to that pile?

For once, you hear when he comes back up. You don't look up, fear seizing every muscle and making you unable to move an inch-- until he's just a few feet away, and your head flies up from where you'd pressed it against your knees.

He was sitting on the floor, right in front of you-- he was writing in a notepad, the same one he used when you first met. Michael's used it since then, but usually just communicates with shakes or nods of his head.

When he turns the book around, it's hard to read the words-- not for lack of light, but because of the way your tears blur your vision. When you're able to blink them away long enough to read, you almost can't believe what he wrote.

"Didn't mean to scare you. They were hurting you, and I didn't like it."

Didn't... didn't mean to scare you? He-- he brought you up here, just to find him covered in blood and pointing at five dead bodies!

five dead bodies of people you knew, even if you didn't like them, you still knew them-- and you knew this was likely to happen, but you tried to convince yourself it wouldn't. For your own sake.

"Are... are you going to..." Kill felt like too heavy of a word right now, too real, so you opted for "...Hurt me too?" Voice small, smaller than you think it's ever been. God, you feel like a child again, asking your mom why the kids at school didn't like you.

Small and helpless, lost and unable to come up with answers on your own. Michael shook his head quickly, and it made you jump-- it wasn't often that he moved quickly like that. He stopped immediately, and turned the notepad around and quickly scrawled something, before turning it back to you.

"Never hurt you" It was hastily written, messy in a way that disturbed you, when addressing Michael. He didn't even add punctuation. For a third time, you ask "Why?" But this time with more intention, knowing what exactly you were asking about.

He didn't move for a bit, and turned the notepad around more slowly, and his pencil hovered above the page-- like he was really thinking this through. A few minutes passed, moving at an agonizing crawl, before he finally turned the notepad around so you could read it.

There were a couple messages scribbled out, but you didn't bother to try and make them out. He'd finally settled on a simple "Because you're my friend."

"How do I know you won’t hurt me?" It was a hard pill to swallow, the knowledge that you just... there's no way to confirm that he won't. He's unpredictable in a way that scares you, because you can't even begin to wrap your head around how he operates.

This time, the answer came quickly; it was messy again, the handwriting, and it made your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach. It made you turn inward and ask why you did this to yourself, why you couldn't have just turned him in at the start.

There's no one to blame but yourself, and that's what hurts the most-- you knew the risk, you took it, and now you're reaping what you sowed.

"I don't hurt what's mine", written in dark letters; once again, he was pressing too hard with the pencil. Once, you thought it was endearing, but now you can't help but realize why he pressed so hard in the first place.

Michael didn't know how to be gentle. Yes, he tried, but there's no telling that he won't give up eventually. For a while, you just stare at the words, at the claim-- he doesn't turn the notepad away,

It's damning, it's a vice gripped around your heart; a steel wire wrapped around your throat. Rope around your wrists, a lock on the door. Everything that can and will be used to keep you here,

To keep you with him.

"I want to go home." You choke out, but he just shakes his head. Oh, how badly you want to scream, to shove him and run; it's broad daylight, surely he won't follow you.

But he's... God, you hate to admit it, but he's all you have. And-- and the bodies, oh god, you're going to be blamed for it, aren't you? It's a perfect story in the making, you've been tormented for so long, so publicly.

It wouldn't be a stretch to say you went mad, that there was something innate to the ground below the Myer's house; a curse weaved into the floorboards, that makes anyone who spends time in the house lose it eventually, if they're capable of such a thing.

That you took the knife in your hand, and slit their throats yourself.

The notepad was facing you again, and you hadn't even noticed he was writing in the first place. It was an explanation for his refusal, but it only made your skin crawl,

"This is your home.", and you just sit there and stare again. Slowly, Michael sets the notepad down. Slowly, he inches forward-- you don't flinch, eyes glazed, staring at where the notepad had been.

Then, his arms are wrapped around you-- and you just... you just melt. You cry, there's no way you can't. You weep until you have nothing left, face tucked into Michael's shoulder.

The blood, still a bit tacky at first, clung to the front of your shirt as well. Michael pulls you as close as he physically can, without merging you two into one continuous being.

He's right, isn't he? This is your home now, and has been for a long time. Before Michael showed up, even, you were spending nights in the Myer's house. Despite the history, it felt leagues safer than your own room.

When your tears are all dried up, still hiccupping and trembling, Michael carefully picks you up. Handling you like glass, but it's unnatural. Stilted-- not a performance, but it's new to him.

Going down the ladder was a slow process, and you were half asleep from pure exhaustion when he set you down on a mattress-- his old bed. You sat, slumped sideways against the headboard as he pulled the cover back and helped you lay down,

He tucked you in, and the thought crossed your mind that his parents must've done this for him when he was younger. They were a normal family, the Myer's-- over the years, people had tried to prove that Michael's snap was caused by abuse, or neglect, or something bad that happened to him in his early development.

But nothing was found on the topic, if anything, the digging exposed the Myer's as the picture-perfect American family. No reason for a 6 year old to kill his sister, other than he just wanted to.

Demonic possession was also a proposed explanation-- more by the townspeople than actual professionals, but it had merit, didn't it? Something about Michael was off, and even if you removed the mask, you're sure it wouldn't change anything.

By the time you're drifting off, weighed down by bone deep weariness from all that happened, Michael is still sitting at the foot of the bed, off on the edge. He isn't watching you, his head facing forward, but it was still unnerving.

When the news of six missing teenagers hit, the town went into a frenzy. Michael has long since dropped the bodies off in the forest-- he didn't want it stinking up the house, because he knew it'd make you uncomfortable,

They found the bodies there, but that didn't stop the cops from searching the Myer's house one last time. That night, Michael took you on a walk, and you two visited the park his parent's used to take him to often.

You were actually swinging, while he kind of just sat on it. Nobody saw you two, there were no reports of you still being alive. Everyone assumed you'd died with your bullies, but your body was elsewhere.

That you fought more than your bullies had, or maybe less-- either way, you died further away from them.

Isolated, just like you’d been in life; even in death, Michael’s sure those horrible kids would make to not be near you.

The cops never considered the possibility that they were killed elsewhere, and dumped later. An oversight on their part, but Michael obviously wasn’t going to correct them on it.

Michael cleaned the attic, not like they'd check it anyways. They never did when they searched the house, and Michael thought it was ridiculous. It was almost too easy to avoid them, but he didn't want to take a chance with you.

He doesn't know what he'd do without you now that he has you. There's no solid reason why he spared you that first night, the 'it's too easy' had been little more than an excuse to spare you, or why he kept sparing you. Why he began to look forward to your meetings.

Something about you was comforting to him, a comfort he hasn't felt in so long that it feel alien now that he's feeling it. Those kids had it coming, he thinks. He's considered going after their parents, as well-- for raising such awful brats.

To torment someone like you-- it both enraged and confused Michael to no end. You were the most innocent person in his mind, even if it was just dumb luck that he found you when he did; that he wasn't in a bad mood.

He doesn't know what comes next, but all he knows is that he'll keep you by his side the whole time. Maybe... you two could move, he'd take on a false identity and flee to Canada with you. Pretend that you're his... younger sibling, because he doesn't think he can get away with claiming you as his child. He isn't all that much older than you, in the grand scheme of things.

As long as you're by his side, then he doesn't really care about what comes next. He just wants you, and to keep you safe and happy. Michael isn't familiar with this, with being soft or gentle; but he'll try for you.

He'd do anything for you, if he's completely honest with himself.

[ersatz-colubridae-888]

the binding of isaac is an incredibly detail oriented game when it's looked at closely. while a lot of observations about isaac could simply be gleamed from the game's endings, it is the items and interactions in the game that showcase the true complexities of his character - one of these interactions being the fortune teller machines (or more accurately the "fortunes" they provide). these fortunes are indicative of things that isaac considers good, real, or otherwise truthful remarks, and reflect things that he's been told in his real life.

the fortunes themselves are presented as instructions or insights to the reader, and are often cynical or downright hurtful in nature, though not necessarily presented as such. they're shown just the same as other generally kinder remarks - fortunes like "BLAME NOBODY BUT YOURSELF" and "YOU WERE BORN WRONG" exist alongside fortunes like "YOU MAKE MISTAKES IT IS ONLY NATURAL" and "BELIEVE IN YOURSELF". this lack of distinction between these wildly different perspectives displays the kind of information he gets about himself, likely mostly coming from the two biggest sources of information in his life - his mother and father. isaac sees both perspectives as completely valid, because they're both people he was raised to trust, and isaac himself is still too young to really question their remarks towards them, even if they seem paradoxical. isaac also seems to take great importance in the sources his mother provides through her christianity, such as television or literature. the fortunes that are biblical (and often crueler) in nature likely come from there.

in a similar vein, many of the fortunes contradict themselves on their own advice - "WAKE UP" and "STAY ASLEEP", "GO OUTSIDE" and "DON'T LEAVE THE HOUSE TODAY", "MARRY AND REPRODUCE" and "QUESTION AUTHORITY". these fortunes and their simultaneous existence, while also showing the kinds of contradicting information he receives, could also portray a frustration or confusion with the statements themselves. he feels as though it is all true, but he can't possibly fulfill it all without compromising some part of what he was brought up with. it reflects a central theme of the binding of isaac - isaac's struggle with morality, with trying to understand what is the "right" thing for him to do, or if he is even "right" in the first place.

isaac struggling to see himself as "right" likely comes from many of these comments being more self deprecating than they are kind. considering their portrayal as just as accurate and true as any other fortune, remarks like "YOU LOOK FAT YOU SHOULD EXERCISE MORE" and "YOU WILL NEVER BE FORGIVEN" are taken at face value, and their depiction in game displays the way isaac sees himself and how the way people around him describe him is taken to heart. he sees himself as a monster, and it seeps down into every part of his being.

there are also fortunes that break away from the game itself and express isaac's vague awareness of the current state he's in. a lot of them refer to his own death or sleeping (one even refers to steven - which i intend to elaborate on later), and the only fortune that is a referral to isaac himself is "I FEEL ASLEEP!!!" *. its existence as the only fortune that actually talks about himself is yet another example of the small moments in which the binding of isaac's facade slips and he can, briefly, see his own fate.

some of these fortunes aren't always completely isaac's own thoughts, of course. there are quite a few fortunes that are meta in nature, like "REBIRTH GOT CANCELLED", "WELL THAT WAS WORTHLESS", and "WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU LEMONS REROLL!", and these obviously aren't always indicative of his own thoughts or views on his life. by and large, however, these fortunes are signs of the way isaac sees himself and the things he's been told from their contradictory, personalized nature, and their imperative structure with a second-person perspective.

* i realize that this is likely a reference to metal gear solid. i still feel like the way it is written fits within the context of the game / character and can be analyzed as such without a simple meta dismissal as some other similar references.

thank you for reading! i hope this one wasn't too wordy! i love feedback or continuing the discussion, so please feel free to comment or reblog with your thoughts. it made me so happy to see how much people liked the first one i did, and even happier to hear everyone's thoughts on it.

i have one more analysis post planned about steven and isaac's connections, and might write more if i get inspired. :-)

[utilitycaster]

Whenever people are like "well LIAM'S characters never faced any backlash when HE played characters in the spotlight" and "no one will let WOMEN have negative qualities" when Caleb and Vax and Orym have received pretty constant hate for main character/sadboy/scene stealing and when meta writers outright stopped talking about Imogen because a particularly mindless set of hit dogs are still hollering about how she is so good and kind and how dare you call her selfish, it's really like...in the service of trying to make your failure of a point you've just said something that literally anyone with a memory lasting longer than the apocryphal goldfish length can immediately debunk, which in turn absolutely shreds your credibility going forward, if you had it.

More generally there's something very vile here, because on the surface this statement does look like an attempt, if one ignorant of pretty much any fandom conversation, to defend women. The thing is it's come from a place of defending Dorian and Ashton's plan - a man, and a nb person who would not identify as a woman - that requires a particularly great deal of sacrifice from the women of the party. So of course they just switch tactics. Instead of "how dare the fandom not think women are always best" it's "how dare the fandom disrespect a disabled nb person and a person played by an indigenous actor." And I'm sure they'll switch again. Because pretty much every character in this campaign is on some axis of oppression, and there's a few people in this fandom who, instead of considering these things as important details that inform these characters, seem to largely treat their minority statuses as ammunition. Feminism and antiracism and queer advocacy are all just part of a shell game to them - accuse everyone who disagrees with them of being a bigot, say that their opinions are inviolate because they match that of literally any character who isn't a cis het white man, of which Bells Hells has none. Unsurprisingly, it's that social media purity culture that's just the evangelical church with a gay hat: they are always the victim, and everyone who disagrees is the devil, and being a good person always happens to line up with what you already wanted.

There are several posts from the past day or so accusing people of liking Campaign 3 less than the two previous ones which refused to accept that this might be due to the hurry-up-and-receive-an-infodump pacing, the singular focus without much time spent on backstory, the gaps in party composition, and the fact that the plot manages to combine the weakest elements of each campaign - the fetch quest/NPC guidance heavy nature of C1, and the meandering/slow start of C2. No, it must be the awful, sinful fandom unable to handle the lack of a major M/M ship (false; Dorian and Orym aren't canon, but neither were Vax and Gilmore, and the latter was sunk far sooner) and the fact that a female character is at the center of the story (see above re: how hostile the same people making these accusations have been to anyone who actually wants to discuss Imogen in a way that doesn't fit their specifications). Just to repeat this: many fans have outlined a number of purely narrative and structural reasons why C3 isn't working for them. These people have assumed this is all a lie, because assuming otherwise that would require either addressing these critiques, which in turn would require admitting other people can have valid opinions that oppose their own without being horrible bigots - in favor of throwing out whatever random accusations they think might stick. It doesn't matter what's actually being said; they're not actually listening, and for all they might talk about fans of color they sure all seem to be white; for all they talk about misogyny and queerphobia they sure won't hesitate to immediately assume the worst of queer people and women who say things they don't like. And rarely do they address any of the actual ongoing bigotry that does exist in the fandom; it's all random accusations because you agreed with the white woman instead of the brown man or vice versa; or it's the constant dredging of years past discourse that, as the first paragraph indicates, they will then ignore whenever convenient.

These are all pretty transparent signs of a bad faith actor spreading misinformation. To be clear I don't think this is any kind of conspiracy or has any organization to it. I think it's a just handful of deeply self-absorbed people who either refuse or literally cannot comprehend that someone could disagree with them without being a bad person and who will gleefully cry wolf with these accusations of bigotry. But it's been going on for quite some time and it's been a problem this campaign in a way I at least do not recall it in past ones, and it's had an absolutely devastating effect on the fandom conversation. Ironically, by trying to boost Imogen and Campaign 3 by shutting down any criticism of them, they've shut down far more of the conversation, hopefully not irreversibly, and I think it's time to point that out.

[hardlyinteresting]

Any Other Way

Tyler Owens x Reader

As voted on by you the people. Relationships aren’t too unlike Tornadoes when you really think about it.

Warnings: The reader is referred to as she/her, passing mentions of childhood injuries and bull riding accidents (nothing detailed or graphic), depictions of storms and tornadoes. (please let me know if you want me to tag anything else).

Word count: 1.3K

Masterlist | Talk to me about Tyler and Jake

The first time he ever saw a tornado touch down it was only a couple miles outside his home town. it's the same town he met her in. A force of nature; upending his life in ways neither of the two of them would have been able to anticipate in that bar all those months ago. 

He thinks now that nature and fate must be much the same, dictated by some higher power he's always believed in but never truly understood. As terrifying as it is mesmerizing, he finds him head over heels for her and it scares the shit out of him. 

Life moves faster when he's just falling into it. He's fallen out of trees as a kid, and been thrown from horses; an adrenaline rush halted only by a sudden and painful meeting with the ground. Love feels somewhat the same. He'd heard the phrase whirlwind romance, but he never expected it to be so life-altering. 

She rides shotgun in his truck and wears his favourite flannels, she changes the radio station while they are driving and he doesn't even flinch. As terrifying as it all is he chooses to look for the beauty in all of it. Tucked safely in his truck harnesses as the world spins around them he's certain he's finally found a safe place to land. 

The sound of the tornado passing right over the top of them echoes in his ears, and his eyes after all these years of chasing are still never quite sure where to focus. At a distance he's practiced at identifying precipitation patterns, analyzing the structures and collapses of storms; he's made a living doing it. But, in the centre of the storm, it's the pounding of his own heart rate that grabs his attention. Riding out a fear isn't the same as ignoring it, so he chooses to let it ground him. He focuses his mind on the science and the still unfathomable pulchritude of the natural world. 

Unrestrained and blithesome, laughter escapes him as the dust settles and they climb out of the truck. Her smile is as big as he's ever seen, it as she jokes along with Boone who clambers out of the backseat camera in hand. With an excited prompt from his friend, and the camera pointed in his direction, Tyler is quick to explain some of the science to their viewers breaking down their tornado experience into layman's terms. It's one of his favourite parts of the job; spreading joy and wonder. 

A few feet away he watches her grinning as she observes first-hand the soft purpling of the sky above in the wake of the storm. These are the good days. 

On the bad days; hours in the truck, and nights spent on bad mattresses havoc on everyone's bodies. A lack of promising storms on the radars leaves them pacing gas station parking lots, and sitting around the motel rooms they swore they didn't want to spend time in except to sleep. 

The air conditioner buzzes, humming an air of uneasiness into the already tense room. The room is silent otherwise and Tyler wishes one of the two of them would say something, but after 12 hours of nothing but waiting there doesn't seem to be much conversation left to have. She sprawls out on the bed, her arm draped over her eyes blocking out the yellow incandescent lamp light. He scrolls on his laptop, wading through radars and projections, searching for a new destination and a new objective, his fingers tapping an untimed beat against the bedside table. It's the calm before the storm. 

He can't pinpoint when the tension began to grow though in hindsight he's sure he should've seen it coming. But next thing he's in a shouting match, his own behaviour thrown at him as a heavy insult, he knows he's saying things he doesn't mean. In the middle of it all his heart races, waiting for the calm once more so he might be able to understand what happened. The door slams behind her when she leaves, and the brown shag carpet is scratchy against the palms of his hands as he lowers himself to sit next to the bed. Defeated he tries to analyze her actions and his own, accessing the potential damage as he goes. 

Who's to blame? who's at fault? He doesn't care as he replays the events of the day in his head. The bigger questions rattle around his skull begging for his attention, where did she go? Should he go after her? The aftermath is always the hardest part of a storm. 

A sudden flash of red illuminating his laptop screen has him on his feet and across the room again in a heartbeat. An unexpected, oncoming storm. His stomach feels lead-lined as he taps her contact on his phone; gutted when he hears the rhythmic vibration on the nightstand. Her phone lit up with his contact photo. 

There's a hopeless in it, the wind howling through the small town, whipping around the tiny motel. He hopes they're not in the direct path of the storm, but he doesn't take the time to check. Texts from Boone and Dani confirm they're sheltering with Lily and Dexter. Tyler texts back: looking for her. 

His breath rattles in his chest, and he ignores the way his hands shake as he calls out her name, hoping beyond hope that she's near by. Surely she noticed the shift in the weather and found somewhere safe. Surely this isn't how he loses her, on the back of a stupid fight. 

He thinks his knees might buckle if he lets himself stand still for too long, a foolish brand of restlessness stirs him into moving. The thought of what he stands to lose pounding in the back of his mind. The air is thick, and the rain that's now falling makes it hard for him to see the ground in front of him. He fights his way forward without a thought of himself, it's not the storm that scares him, but rather what it might take that strikes the chord of fear he's wrestled his whole life. 

He manages to make his way across the parking lot of the eerie quiet town, the echo of a storm siren blaring in the near distance. The window of the motel office has been shattered by some kind of debris and he has to shield himself from the wind even indoors, crouching low as he moves. He calls her name again, he voice cracking in a desperate plea. 

“Tyler?” A tear filled voice calls from behind the counter. 

He finds her curled on the floor under the large front desk, the sweet motel owner Doris holding tightly to her. He slips himself beneath the desk taking note of where it's bolted into the ground, a good distance from the windows; she's a clever girl. “I'm sorry,” she gasps out quickly, her eyes locking onto his own, “me too, darlin’,” he swears, “but we'll have time to talk about it later”. 

The world grows quiet again, pounding rain, and vicious winds slowing before stopping, air pressure releasing its heavy hold. He helps Doris out from under their hiding place, the gray haired older woman patting his hand in thanks as she catches her breath. He helps his girl up next not at all shocked when she throws herself against his chest. The familiar smell of her shampoo, and the feeling of his own flannel shirt on her frame ground him. 

“We're okay, baby,” he promises. 

“I got you these,” she says holding out a now crushed packet of milk duds. “I just wanted to clear my mind and I saw them in the vending machine. I was on my way back to the room--but the storm. I didn't mean to scare you”. 

His smile is wide despite the weight of tears behind his eyes, “honey, you scare the hell out of me and I wouldn't want it any other way”. 

[wilderhyperfoxations]

Chains of Eternity- my biased, terrible little review

This will include spoilers, so you've been warned. Although I like this game (my tumblr and even this post are a testament to that) sometimes things you like can fall short. So, let's get into my various critiques of COE. The start of the story felt pretty strong. I do wish we saw Valen, BECAUSE WHERE IS THAT MAN, but sure, right. I felt like there were too many side characters during the first few quests, and this trend continues through the whole arc. I really liked Faramor… so where the hell did he go? He sort of disappeared without much of an explanation. He had no character development, or it simply wasn't portrayed in a cohesive way. But his VA was very good. Also, controversial, but while I did enjoy Lorsan's cameo- it did not add anything. Same with half the characters this season, they really came out of nowhere, and could have been utilized in a more interesting way. The whole immortality talk also felt unconvincing- sure it's bad but if you're really afraid of death it's a small price to pay, and you'll watch people die even if you're mortal, so… weak argument there. Cyran. God, Cyran, they barely used him, too. Which I really wished they did. Also the King/Duke(?) was kind of barely there. They did nail Yolena and made the ending that much more WHAT THE FUCK. There were some bigger overarching issues, such as: Structural issues, Promise, payoff, Setup, Too much fluff, Pacing, Lore. Structural issues- the story structure did not feel sound nor satisfying due to the lack of promise at the start and the lack of payoff at the end (ex.- in WOI, it's "Merlin wants to leave Rustport, Sinbad wants to be a Captain, Sonja wants to kill her dad" and all of those things come true and make a satisfying story). This is pretty much the same as "setup"- there was not much of that. Too much fluff- too many characters and frivolous parts that I felt could be trimmed. Most characters could be cut out and the story would still work. Pacing- unlike WOI, which felt like it lasted ages, or even the first few storylines that were pretty even, this one was choppy. The start dragged and then the end sprinted. The whole thing whizzed past me and there I was, left befuddled. Lore- confusing! In the story not much is elaborated on, but then in some heart-to-heart's there are comments on why graveborns were made that… actually make no sense, or are unsupported by the wider narrative. How would they improve this? Honestly. Just more editing and more time. This one must've been rushed, or something, because WOI was stellar for any game (and again Sinbad's VA was FIRE, nothing stood out to me this time). And if I were to edit this story, I'd introduce Valka earlier, and give her some clearer goal than just "am sad, don't deserve your praise, blah". State it more clearly that she wishes she could make things right. And the villain, who I neglected to mention- all villains besides the WOI ones have been last-minute. Cryonaia was intimidating, but, she was… not setup. If the story spoke of her earlier, or incorporated her into some legend, her reveal would mean more. Otherwise she's just another hypogean. Also, what was her goal? What was she trying to do? Who the fuck knows. I found her vibe unclear. Tell me if I missed something, but I do doubt I missed anything major. Altogether, if this was a book, I'd give it a 2 or 3 stars for "you tried and you almost got here but your editor must've been drunk and passed out for months or something".

[reco-obsessed]

thinking about alice's and reko's deaths as metaphors for their emotions for each other over the years.... when alice is offered to have his memories wiped by safalin, he takes the offer, because reko takes so much of his life that he can remember that her death makes his entire being hurt. hes practically structured his identity around her- in trying to be a good big brother, one he felt she deserved. hes been willing to put himself aside for her own goals and desires, always accepted being sidelined to try and support her. so to lose her is to lose so much of himself- leave him a huge, gaping hole that cant possibly be recovered from even as he just barely clings onto whatever life he has left.

reko doesnt see the amount of grief coming after alice goes to prison, or when he dies. its a betrayal of herself, to feel so much for the person she resented and tried to ignore this whole time. the wound isnt that big, but then why does the blood keep coming, and why cant she stop it? why is she still crying, even though she refuses to sob? it runs so deep her hearts probably torn clean in half, but youd never see that from the outside. or at least she'll try her best to keep that in- her lack of last words wont make up for the pool of blood on the floor. this one, "small" thing breaks her as she knows it. should she live, and safalin offer to remove her memories instead, she rejects it. she spent almost her whole life trying to push alice's presence out of her mind, that weakness of having someone who mattered so much to her, the person who cared most for her, who she cared for most for, who she resented for it- for wanting her to be successful in a way she hated, but she'd do it, even if she cant stomach to look at him anymore. and, maybe, in some way, she got what she wanted. alice went to prison, removing him from her life almost absolutely, and for that small of time when they were reunited in the death game, they barely acknowledged each other directly- rekos last words she can probably remember to him were something along the lines of 'pretend you dont know me. we're strangers at this point, and i dont want people thinking we have any connection'. between her explicit rejection and the fake reko receiving the bongos, theres the chance she might not even realize alice wants otherwise. but somehow, even though she brought this upon herself, it hurts so so much more than she was expecting it to.

and she cant help but feel like its her fault that things went the way they did. that maybe if shed been a better sister, alice wouldnt have ever killed someone, or had died here, or maybe there wouldve at least been something to remember besides the hurt of him being gone. but reko also knows that she had her second chance- and she cant imagine doing anything different with what she knew. she protected herself, but at what cost? she could try to fight back now, if she really tried, but maybe deep down, she doesnt feel she deserves to, when she was the cause. it happens quicker than she imagined, and all she knows how to do at this point is lie down and take it. its just like the first time alice left, in a way. she was always about movement and action- his leaving was the only thing that could give her pause. even though she grew as a person when he was gone, she really did lose a part of herself, and it nearly killed her the first time, let alone the second.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

The Doctor is a pretty controversial figure on Gallifrey I would imagine. He’s done good things, but he’s also done some things that are crimes. What would you say is the general public opinion of them on Gallifrey right now?

The Doctor: Hero, Rebel, or Nuisance?

So here's the thing: Gallifreyan society is highly stratified, so potential opinions vary depending on class, role, and personal experience. It also depends when you’re asking. Since GIL exists in a delightfully timeless state where the Time War has both happened and not happened, we can't pin down a single 'current' opinion. But we can throw out a few general likelihoods:

🌟 Admirers and Aspiring Rebels

For some Gallifreyans, especially younger Time Lords or those disillusioned with tradition, the Doctor represents freedom and individuality. They probably see the Doctor as a pioneer—someone who broke away from the Capitol's rigid rules and rejects the weight of Time Lord society. To these admirers, the Doctor is a hero, or at least someone to aspire to emulate.

😤 Traditionalists and Bureaucrats

On the flip side, traditionalists—particularly within the High Council and the elite Houses—probably find the Doctor infuriating. Rejecting the Presidency, being disowned from their House, and that time they nicked a TARDIS are not exactly behaviours that earn respect in bureaucratic circles. To this group, the Doctor is probably less a hero and more an exasperating rogue who tarnishes the otherwise shiny veneer of Time Lord society.

😨 Fearful Critics

Then there are those who outright fear the Doctor. For these Gallifreyans, the Doctor's willingness to wield immense power (see: that time they kinda destroyed Gallifrey and then unkilled it, then killed it, then unkilled it again, etc.) is deeply unsettling. They view the Doctor as a dangerous wildcard whose actions, however well-intentioned, often have catastrophic consequences for everyone involved.

🤔 Begrudging Admirers

Finally, some may simultaneously respect and resent the Doctor. These Gallifreyans might dislike their lack of tradition, the chaotic meddling, and their penchant for breaking all the rules—but grudgingly admit that the Doctor's actions have often made the universe a better place. 'They're insufferable,' these critics might say, 'but annoyingly effective.'

🏫 So ...

Hero or nuisance? It depends on who you ask—and when. One thing's for certain, though: whether admired, feared, or begrudgingly tolerated, the Doctor is impossible to ignore. They've left an indelible mark not just on Gallifrey but across time and space itself—and that's bound to ruffle a few collars.

Related:

📺|🧑‍⚕️💥The Doctor and the Baanjxx

💬|🧸🏫What were the Doctor and the Master’s school days like?: Overview of the general structure of Gallifreyan education, and how badly these two handled it.

📺|🧑‍⚕🍬 Five Weird Facts About Jelly Babies and the Doctor

Hope that helped! 😃

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[galacticnova3]

Have you ever thought about Dhelmise? I have. In fact, I’ve thought about it so much that I decided I couldn’t fit it all in my brain. So here it is. That’s right, it’s time for the Dhelmise infodump but for real this time. With feeling. Because I think about this thing a normal amount. This is extremely long and not organized any more than my own thoughts are, so I have put it under a readmore. I am not going to color of the seaweed you people, because I’m not evil, I’m just hyperfixated.

I think everyone who follows me has read my usual spiel about the shiny, so I’ll save that for later. Instead I’ll start with some word explanations to avoid possible confusion later on. I’ll be using kelp and seaweed interchangeably for the most part, but as kelp technically refers to particular kinds of seaweed I will try to keep that in mind when the distinction actually matters. Seaweeds are not plants, they’re something different called macroalgae, which in turn is classified into three groups— green, brown, and red. As they’re not plants, they have different structures that I’ll be referring to throughout this whole thing.

The main ones to know are the blades, stipe, and holdfast. The blades are more or less analogous to the leaves of plants, with the stipe in turn being like a stem. The holdfast is often compared to roots, but doesn’t serve the same function of absorbing water/nutrients, instead only anchoring the whole thing to a surface, be it the seabed or something like a rock or underwater structure. In short it holds the kelp in place, as the name suggests. There’s also another part called the pneumatocyst, but it’s not really as relevant to Dhelmise itself as it lacks anything resembling one; in short it’s a gas-filled structure that allows the seaweed to float. It similarly lacks sporophytes, aka kelp reproductive organs.

With that out of the way, it’s finally time to actually talk about my favorite fella!

Dhelmise is, of course, based on kelp, if it wasn’t obvious; though it’s green(or red if shiny), it shares the most similarities with various brown kelps— I’ll get into that soon. Each individual has one stipe, which resembles a chain when not at rest but otherwise isn’t visible, and an average of five blades. They have two holdfasts on either side of their stipe, rather than just the one that is typical of real kelps; these are the apical holdfast, which is the one that clings to the helm, and the basal holdfast, which clings to the anchor. Oddly enough, the blades are always closer to the basal holdfast than the apical one when the body is fully extended, despite that being less efficient for photosynthesis. (Had I designed it, this wouldn’t be the case, but whatever.)

This does mean they can have a bit of a smell to them, which can take some getting used to, though I wouldn’t describe it as unpleasant— they kinda just smell like the ocean.

Also, while they can spend a good deal of time out of the water, they are very prone to scorching if out in high temperatures and direct sunlight for extended periods. This is especially common on the edges of their blades and on the parts of their bodies adjacent to exposed metal, like the anchor. Care also needs to be taken to make sure they don’t dry out, which would make them lethargic and brittle, and therefore more prone to injury. Both of these conditions are reversible, but in severe cases it can take months for them to recover fully. Plus, it’s just not very nice; you don’t like getting sunburnt, do you? On the other hand, unlike many other grass types, they don’t seem to mind cold temperatures; just keep direct contact with ice, sleet, and snow to a minimum and they should be perfectly fine.

While some sources claim it’s based on dead man’s fingers, Codium fragile, I don’t think that conclusion is founded on anything more than the fact that it’s a marine macroalgae, dark green, and has dead in the name, which fits a ghost type. Some say it’s because of the shape, but I disagree there as well, as while it does branch, it doesn’t do so from one point and is more tubular in appearance than other species. It also tends to grow outward rather than upward, and doesn’t get nearly large enough to make sense scale-wise. Lastly, it usually doesn’t attach itself to objects that are particularly large or heavy, to the point that it can often be found washed up on beaches, and also grows most often in very shallow waters, where it can be exposed when tides recede. This does not make much sense for Dhelmise, which clearly prefers very solid, heavy objects to anchor itself to(no pun intended), relies on actual shipwrecks to get those objects rather than ships that are merely beached and abandoned, and would likely prefer deeper waters where it will find its preferred prey.

Though they may occasionally make their way onto land, as is seen outside of Circhester, this may be light-seeking behavior, given that portions of Circhester Bay’s waters are covered by ice that would block sunlight. More likely, however, it is actually an adaptation to deal with the presence of Pincurchin in that very same area; as these Pokémon feed on seaweed, it would make sense that Dhelmise would seek to avoid them. Keep in mind that this is currently the only location where Dhelmise can be naturally found on land, despite also being found in Alola by fishing in Seafolk Village, the Isle of Armor by fishing on Challenge Beach, and in the Crown Tundra by fishing in the Frigid Sea. Pincurchin is not found in any of those other locations, thus they would not be pressuring the local sea creepers to leave the water.

With all of that in mind, I think a more fitting species for comparison would be Nereocystis luetkeana, aka bullwhip kelp, ribbon kelp, etc; not only does it have multiple blades growing out from one point, but it does so at the top of the stipe(or rather from the pneumatocyst) and not all along it, making it similar in shape and growth habit to Dhelmise. In fact, the location of the pneumatocyst combined with the blades even bears a slight resemblance to the way Dhelmise attaches to the ship’s helm, just facing upward rather than outward. It’s also much closer in size, being known to grow up to 118 feet— Dhelmise’s “chain” is said to be able to extend for hundreds of yards, but as far as I’m aware there aren’t any kelps that can get to 600 feet.

Another possible inspiration is found in Pterygophora californica, aka stalked kelp. This species is another brown macroalgae like N. luetkeana, exhibits branching behavior of the blades even closer to that seen in Dhelmise—bullwhip kelp has significantly more blades than stalked kelp— and is much closer to the size Dhelmise is listed as in the dex, reaching around 9’8” compared to the just under 13 foot ghost type; not exact, but Codium fragile doesn’t even reach three feet tall. As a little bonus, another common name for this species is walking kelp, which seems like a nice fit for the sea creeper Pokémon. The resemblance doesn’t end there, though, as stalked kelp is known to often be used as a point of attachment for other algaes, including the previously discussed bullwhip kelp.

That leads into the next thing I want to talk about, which is the fascinating ecological relationship between Dhelmise, Skrelp, and Dragalge. Dhelmise and Skrelp are said to get along. While this isn’t really elaborated on in the dex, it’s safe to assume that Dhelmise allows Skrelp to use it as a hiding place, given that the latter is said to hide amongst kelp. Additionally, a Dhelmise would serve as a literal anchor point for an otherwise easily swept away Skrelp, which, aside from referencing how seahorses/sea dragons cling to things, parallels the way bullwhip kelp will attach itself to stalked kelp.

While it’s true that Dhelmise is predacious and uses its seaweed to drain the life force of its prey— after more or less giving them blunt force trauma via anchor, of course— it only targets large Pokémon like Wailmer and Wailord. Skrelp is really small, so it probably wouldn’t even register as worth scaring off, let alone trying to hunt given its lack of a grass weakness and resistance to steel. Given that it has predators to hide from, one might actually be safest clinging to a Dhelmise; it could intimidate anything that would threaten the little sea dragon, if not seek to actively attack it if it’s large enough to be seen as worthwhile prey. Additionally, both of them use seaweed and detritus, with Skrelp feeding on rotting seaweed as its primary food source while Dhelmise infuses seaweed and detritus into its body to maintain it; perhaps it’s a situation where the little guy takes bits and pieces of what the big guy’s having.

You might think this is one-sided in favor of the Skrelp, much like how bullwhip kelp will shade out and put additional stress on stalked kelp, but Dhelmise may actually benefit from this relationship at the species level. When Skrelp evolves into Dragalge— which are specifically described as getting along really well with Dhelmise, fun fact, perhaps out of gratitude for offering safety before their evolution— they gain poison that can corrode ships and cause them to sink. As we know, Dhelmise are born when seaweed merges with ship debris; other than breeding with Ditto, which wouldn’t occur naturally and always results in an egg, it’s safe to assume they cannot actively reproduce… At least, not in a way that would result in any genetic diversity.

I headcanon that Dhelmise share some traits with seaweed beyond just appearance and literally being born from it. Specifically, they’re capable of asexual reproduction via fragmentation; if a piece of a Dhelmise were to break off in battle or as a result of some other environmental factor, it can essentially act the same way a brand new Dhelmise would, seeking out and, if it succeeds, merging with ship debris. This will always result in a genetic clone of the original Dhelmise, though, and unless it was close to a wreck other than the one it was born from, usually doesn’t succeed in creating a new fully fledged individual. As for kelp abilities they lack, they cannot produce sporophytes like many living kelps do, much like they don’t grow pneumatocysts. Sexual reproduction in that manner, therefore, isn’t possible; the only ways to get wholly new Dhelmise are for them to form naturally from kelp or via captive breeding with Ditto.

Regardless of how they come to be, the bottom line is that without shipwrecks, new Dhelmise can’t form in the wild, or at least can’t form and survive. The ship debris is key to their hunting strategy, to the point that their signature move is Anchor Shot and their signature ability is Steelworker, both based around how they utilize the debris they merged with. One might begin to form and search for a shipwreck(perhaps literally creeping along the sea floor), but if it doesn’t find the debris it needs quickly enough, the tissue that would have become its holdfasts will eventually wither and die off, leaving the unrealized sea creeper unable to cling to debris and unable to hunt, until it eventually starves and goes back to being regular dead kelp. Sad, but probably what happens the majority of the time.

Now, healthy Skrelp will eventually evolve into Dragalge, which can and apparently will sink ships in their territories. That obviously creates more shipwrecks. More shipwrecks will allow more Dhelmise to successfully form, thus keeping the species alive(or at least as alive as a ghost type can be…) in the wild despite the extremely specific conditions that they require to develop. Therefore, it would make sense for Dhelmise to want to ensure the safety of Skrelp if they can, as a sort of investment. After all, it’s safe to assume that modern maps, weather radar, and navigational equipment drastically reduced the number of shipwrecks that occur “naturally”, so outside of the possibility of intentional ship sinking by humans specifically to help bolster wild Dhelmise populations(or just to create habitat in general, like was seen in ORAS with the Sea Mauville, even though that wasn’t sunken intentionally so much as just not demolished after sinking), they might actually have to rely on this long-term relationship as a way of adapting to modern technological advances.

In the past, before ships and their various paraphernalia existed, Dhelmise were probably significantly closer to normal kelp, not growing nearly as large and relying on things like rocks as their hunting implements of choice. Though that assumes they hunted at all; as alluded to earlier, I headcanon that Dhelmise are also capable of photosynthesis, and for more reasons than just the fact that it’s the way their primary inspiration gets energy. Prior to Sword and Shield they could straight up learn the move Synthesis. They’re still able to learn the clearly photosynthesis-based combination of Growth and Sunny Day, along with both Solar Beam and Solar Blade. All of these involve absorbing energy from the sun and then utilizing it in some manner.

It wouldn’t be a stretch to theorize that, when the species didn’t have access to what might be the perfect tool for taking down their preferred prey— anchors can not only knock out the float whales, but actually weigh enough to then drag them beneath the waves for feeding— they might instead have been primarily photoautotrophs, in addition to being detritivorous. Perhaps they were even blind, or could easily become blinded due to their eye not having any sort of external protection; modern Dhelmise have their eyes safe behind glass and metal. Or maybe they were always predatory, but fed passively on smaller fish Pokémon that tried to use their seaweed as a hiding place. Regardless of exactly how, it’s almost certain that the species was very different in the past, and likely only became how they are now as a result of human activities.

Pivoting a bit, odds are the reason they prefer such targets in the first place is because they offer more life force to drain than smaller Pokémon. In a way you can treat the HP stat as a measure of life energy; higher HP means more vitality, which means it’s more worthwhile prey. Realistically, a hunt has to be worth the opportunity cost of not just soaking up the sun and safely getting energy that way. If hunting a Wailord would provide significantly more energy in a shorter period of time than just doing photosynthesis, the risk involved could be seen as worthwhile. On the other hand, an injured or weakened Dhelmise might not attempt that hunt because the relative safety of getting energy without initiating a battle that could go wrong is more appealing than trying to get more energy more quickly, especially when the risk of failure is greater; an unsuccessful hunt, even if it doesn’t end in further injury, is a waste of time and energy.

To further elaborate on the photosynthesis side of things, it’s safe to assume that shiny Dhelmise actually don’t see much of a difference in photosynthetic efficiency. Red macroalgae does exist, and like their green and brown counterparts they are all photoautotrophs, which means it’s efficient enough to be viable. With that said, the actual color of red seaweed is often quite dark and closer to the brown side of the spectrum, so not all that similar to the bright, vibrant red of shiny Dhelmise. It’s also safe to assume another kelp species wasn’t an inspiration for the shiny, as there are no red macroalgae that are also considered kelp. Anyone familiar with me knows what this is going to be about, but I’m gonna include even more information this time!

There are various types of non-kelp macroalgae that closely resemble its shiny coloration. They usually don’t grow very large, and color-wise seem to get less similar the larger they get. The closest match I could find color-wise is the pom pom or dragon's breath macroalgae(Gracilaria hayi), which is evidently somewhat popular in saltwater aquariums but seems to remain even smaller, and much like the next example has little resemblance aside from being red. A larger red seaweed is dulse, Palmaria palmata, which can occasionally reach a whopping one meter tall, or 3.3 feet; notably this species is commonly eaten in places like Iceland and Atlantic Canada.

I feel like this is as good a time as ever to point out something… Interesting. In Scarlet and Violet, there’s a point where you have to go and bid on some extremely rare red wakame; this is actually Kofu’s gym puzzle and therefore isn’t optional. However, the word wakame refers specifically to a type of edible kelp, which, as I established earlier, does not come in red, and especially not in the shade of red seen in-game. While you could say it’s just a fantasy version of a real life thing, the way it’s explicitly stated to be incredibly rare leads me to believe the red wakame you bid for could actually be kelp harvested from a shiny Dhelmise. I say harvested because I trust Kofu not to support inhumane practices, and taking parts of a Dhelmise without its consent would be incredibly fucked up and incredibly risky.

Considering how large they get— without taking into account how one of their likely inspirations can grow two feet a day— and the fact that it’s been established various grass types have edible or medicinal parts that can be humanely harvested from them directly(Tropius fruits, Petilil leaves) or collected as they naturally fall off(Toedscool flaps), I doubt it’s a stretch to believe Dhelmise also have edible parts. Most likely their blades. I imagine they’re not too different from regular kelp, actually, considering they literally were just regular seaweed at one point. The main differences are the sheer novelty of “this isn’t just regular kelp” and the need to find individuals that will actually cooperate and allow themselves to be harvested. After all, I really doubt you’re going to be getting away unscathed if you try to take anything from a Dhelmise by force, let alone part of the Dhelmise itself.

To elaborate on that because I love yapping and also it gives an excuse to mention another headcanon: the dex says Dhelmise weighs 463 pounds, but realistically it’s actually a lot heavier because Pokémon weight-to-size ratios are notorious for not making sense. I choose to interpret this as the weight of a Dhelmise not counting the anchor; the anchor technically isn’t part of its body, but the helm would be counted since that’s where its eye is. Now it might seem like over 400 pounds is too heavy, but remember that it somehow has enough material to extend for hundreds of yards, which is 600 feet minimum. Anchors of a similar size to the one Dhelmise has usually weigh several hundred pounds alone. What this means is that, in short, any physical attack by a Dhelmise on a human is going to be devastating, if not immediately deadly. So like. Maybe save fucking around and finding out for something that can’t break your bones like twigs or crack your skull like a peanut shell if provoked?

That was quite a tangent! Back to shiny talk, now’s the part you’ve all been waiting for. Dhelmise’s shiny coloration may actually be based on a phenomenon known as a red tide. This event occurs when there is a large bloom of red algae, most notably Karenia brevis(though as a dinoflagellate its status as an algae is actually debated), which in high concentrations will make seawater look bright red, almost as if the ocean itself is bleeding. The more dense the bloom, the more it starves the surrounding water of oxygen, which will asphyxiate sea life in and around it. K. brevis will also release toxins into the surrounding water which further increases its potential to kill surrounding wildlife like fish and even marine birds and mammals, and it remains toxic once it dies and begins to decay. A bright red marine algae associated with death seems pretty fitting for a ghost type’s shiny, especially considering Dhelmise is able to learn Sludge Wave as its only poison type move.

Here’s the fun part: Dhelmise coloring is completely independent of the macroalgae they form from. Doesn’t matter if the seaweed was brown, green, or almost purple, it will always create an individual that is dark green or bright red. How does this happen? Good question! Why does normal kelp sometimes turn red? Who the hell knows! I sure don’t! The mechanisms behind shiny coloration in Pokémon aren’t understood in even the most well-studied species, so suffice to say it’s still quite the mystery in Dhelmise.

Now then, you might think that if you artificially initiate asexual reproduction in a shiny one, you’d get shiny offspring, like an infinite shiny exploit. After all, they’re genetically identical, right? Haha, nope, somehow it doesn’t work like that! The red seaweed, which used to be green or brown or whatever and turned red for seemingly no reason, will just turn that familiar dark green as the new individual develops for also seemingly no reason. Or, in exceedingly rare cases, a clone of a normal Dhelmise can turn out shiny. They’ll be genetically identical in every way and yet one will be a drastically different color. It makes zero sense and yet it is the truth. Because why not! Nature doesn’t care about what should make sense, it just does what it does!

Anyways… Switching gears once again, I think my headcanon for how Dhelmise initially form and develop warrants some explanation, as elsewhere outside of this ramble I’ve mentioned offhand that it isn’t well understood in-universe for a variety of reasons. As alluded to earlier, new Dhelmise can come into the world in three ways: the way described in the Pokédex, through asexual reproduction by fragmentation, or through hatching eggs created when breeding them with Ditto. Due to the inherent differences between these manners of origin, the individuals that result will all have some different characteristics.

Normal kelp can begin the process of becoming a Dhelmise in two ways: spontaneously from dead kelp, or as a result of souls lost at sea becoming entangled in live kelp that ends up breaking away, much like how Bramblin are said to form. Beyond that, the process of becoming a full-fledged individual is identical. Next is what I’m going to call the creeping stage, where the sort of proto-Dhelmise will begin to blindly search for a shipwreck, most likely via sensing metal in the water and trying to move towards it. In the vast majority of cases, the individual is ultimately unsuccessful; between the inability to actually see, the way currents can pick them up and carry them away, and the presence of Pokémon that will eat kelp, the odds of one even reaching a shipwreck at all are extremely low, let alone one with suitable, accessible debris it can actually use.

In fact, even if they do reach what they need, it could already be too late. They need to begin the process of merging with the debris relatively quickly after first transforming from normal kelp— within two weeks, at best— or else the cells that would have become their holdfasts will begin to degenerate and wither away, leaving the unrealized individual unable to cling to a helm or anchor even if they do find them. In these situations they will simply run out of energy and starve, reverting back into regular scraps of kelp as if they hadn’t ever existed. They can also die if they begin the merging process in an area that gets no sun; photosynthesis is a necessary energy source until they are established enough to hunt, which can take anywhere from a few weeks to several months depending on conditions.

It stands to reason that most successful natural formations will occur spontaneously near shipwrecks that resulted in a loss of life, as any kelp growing nearby will be more likely to take on a soul and start the process, and the resulting Dhelmise-in-progress will have a shorter distance to travel. Many won’t travel too far from the location they formed in, so one that fragmented from an existing individual could end up searching the same wreck that no longer has a helm or anchor to bind to. Alas, just finding and clinging to the desired debris will not guarantee a successful formation; they start out small and blind, and— until they actually grow into their selected helm or anchor and seek out the other piece—are entirely defenseless. During this time they’re extremely vulnerable to other Pokémon, especially Pincurchin in their native range.

As for the debris itself, most often they will find and cling to the anchor first, simply because these are usually outside the ship and thus more likely to be found quickly by something approaching from the surrounding seabed. They will still be unable to see until finding and merging with a helm, but the anchor will at least aid in orienting them in their surroundings, even if initially incorporating it usually takes a day to several days. One that manages to cling to the helm first will develop an eye sooner, gaining the sense of sight more quickly, with the caveat that orienting themself without an anchor to clearly indicate which direction is down will be significantly more of a challenge. Merging with the helm takes anywhere from several hours to a day, with an eye usually appearing within a few hours after successful incorporation.

Once they have successfully integrated with their items, the new Dhelmise will need to make its way into an area with some amount of sun exposure, which will usually just be shallower waters; photosynthesis will fuel their subsequent development as they “grow into” the debris. At this stage, most will still be almost unrecognizable. The basal holdfast takes a significant amount of time to cover the majority of the anchor, and only after that will their lower blades begin to grow downward from it. This also seems to be when the anchor gains new properties that increase its durability and stop it from corroding, though existing damage is not repaired, and corrosion that has already occurred is not reversed. How this happens is not well understood, beyond it being spectral in nature. In gamer terms, they give their stuff the Unbreaking III enchantment but not Mending.

Compared to their wild counterparts, Dhelmise hatched from eggs are almost always slightly larger and more vigorous to begin with. This is because they will experience some additional growth inside of the egg prior to hatching, and will not spend precious energy in the creeping stage for reasons that will be addressed in a moment. Otherwise, they undergo the same basic processes; eye formation occurs after merging with the helm, and their body will take at least a few weeks to fully cover their anchor. The main difference is that, given how members of this group are almost always bred intentionally— as in, there are no known cases of wild Dhelmise and Ditto creating eggs— conditions are generally way more favorable for them than in the wild. Who would have thought.

They will, assuming the breeder was responsible, more or less skip the creeping stage, as they are offered a helm and anchor to merge with shortly after hatching rather than needing to seek them out. The need to provide such things is actually one of the primary reasons Dhelmise are rarely bred in captivity, in addition to the fact that they are difficult to find and catch for breeding in the first place. It’s not exactly inexpensive! Plus, they are not commonly trained, and most research on Dhelmise is focused on their ecology in the wild, so demand is also quite low. Those not bred purely for research purposes may be raised and habituated to having their blades harvested for culinary use, or will be destined to live in large aquariums or other such public education institutions, sometimes as part of larger displays or even as a focal species.

Lucky individuals may be treated as ambassador Pokémon, as despite their large size and strength, they’re often quite slow and placid— some might even say boring. They aren’t very popular for this role, though, as the space and conditions required to meet all of their needs while looking naturalistic are quite large and fairly complex. In other words, expensive. When not actively participating in programs, they often aren’t very exciting to watch, and organizations generally prefer Pokémon that not only do well interacting with people once trained, but are also interesting or fun to look at outside of programs. The primary exception to this is actually when Skrelp are being used as ambassadors; in such cases, a Dhelmise can help them to feel more safe and secure, while simultaneously highlighting one of their more interesting ecological relationships. Emotional support big seaweed.

So, now that you know what they are(or are likely based on) and how they form, let’s get into some potential ways that individuals can vary beyond just temperament, shininess, and different sizes, shapes, and models of helms and anchors. Because, let’s be real, the odds of every single Dhelmise happening to utilize the exact same size and style of anchor, and one model of ship’s helm to go with that anchor, feels maybe a little bit unlikely.

It isn’t all that uncommon for Dhelmise to have differing blade counts; that is, more or less than five apical blades, which are those that are generally spread out from where the stipe wraps around the helm when at rest. For example, it’s possible for them to develop only four large ones, or six to seven small ones. Individuals with fewer than four blades have not been observed, except in cases of injury where one or more have been torn or cut off entirely and are yet to regrow. The presence of more than seven blade growing points has also not been documented, but blade counts as high as fourteen have been recorded, albeit incredibly rarely. This is a result of doubling, when two blades— usually smaller but of unequal size— grow from the same spot. This can occur with all of a Dhelmise’s blades, only some of them, or even just one.

The exact cause for one to form like this isn’t known, but the trait does not appear to be heritable, even in cases where it was innate. Therefore, the prevailing theory is that it is not genetic, but instead the result of the stipe being damaged or otherwise having its growth disrupted in some fashion during the individual’s early development. In these cases the condition is permanent. It can also be caused later in life if the area of attachment is damaged, but the blade is not actually severed from the stipe; a new blade will begin growing as part of the healing process, even though the original is still attached. Think of it as similar to a lizard having two tails due to the original failing to actually break off when dropped. In this situation, the doubling is almost always temporary, with the exception being cases of more intense trauma to the stipe.

Doubling can also occur in the basal blades— those that hang down from the anchor— for similar reasons, but as they form later in development it is almost always the result of environmental factors like injury, rather than anything that might permanently alter the growth pattern. It’s also less obvious in older individuals, as there can be a lot of natural variation in basal blade counts. Usually five will form initially, but unlike the apical blades, the basal blades do not have specific growing points, and their positioning is more to do with the shape of their anchor.

Significantly more rarely, a Dhelmise can actually end up forming two eyes; why this happens is, you guessed it, not known. While it might seem advantageous, in reality it actually tends to cause poorer coordination and increased susceptibility to confusion. Dhelmise eyes have the peculiar trait of being able to spin, much like the compasses they resemble; this may be to offset the way their helms tend to naturally rotate to and fro while they sway, akin to a gyroscope. The swaying itself also isn’t understood, with most theories boiling down to the idea that they are simply doing what they did as kelp, even if the mechanism that originally led to such movement isn’t acting on them anymore.

Regardless of why their eyes are the way they are and why they always seem to be under the influence of some invisible current or tide, the bottom line is that their natural movement doesn’t disorient them when they have only one eye. This does not seem to be the case with binocular individuals, as their eyes will rarely actually rotate in sync, leading to two conflicting, partially overlapped visual inputs. Most will keep one eye covered by one of their blades almost constantly, while others seem to cover one eye at least when hunting or changing locations. When both eyes are exposed, they tend to be noticeably less responsive to motion, with subtle movements often going entirely unnoticed. However, when one eye is covered, they behave more similarly to average members of the species. This suggests possible visual fatigue caused by the two visual inputs themselves making it appear that everything is moving, effectively concealing actual movement.

One of the most interesting things about Dhelmise is that, like many seaweeds, they actually have noticeably high rates of chimerism, or having two or more distinct sets of DNA; in some areas this can be observed in around 30% of individuals. Chimeric Dhelmise will arise from chimeric seaweed, though in much rarer cases it can occur if two proto-Dhelmise bind to the same debris and end up essentially fusing. The latter is likely what would cause a bicolor Dhelmise, or an individual that displays both normal and shiny coloration; chimeras arising from just one piece of seaweed will either be entirely green or entirely red, regardless of whether the seaweed has multiple sets of DNA.

The different genetic material is not evenly distributed, much like in regular seaweed, instead having the most variation in the holdfasts and almost none in the stipe or blades. Also, whether a Dhelmise is a chimera or not will pretty much never be visible externally, instead being something that can only be confirmed with DNA testing. The sole exception is the incredibly rare bicolor types, which will of course have two colors; of those that have been documented, most are primarily green with bits of red showing on their holdfasts, but they can also be the reverse. What seems to be consistent among all chimeric individuals is that they are generally more hardy than those with only one set of DNA, growing larger and being overall less prone to issues that can affect the species. This may be comparable to hybrid vigor.

Alright, this is pretty close to the 6000 word mark, and I’ve said pretty much all I have to say about JUST KIDDING. LIKE MY FIELDS ON POKÉFARM Q THERE’S ALWAYS MORE DHELMISE. THIS IS WHAT YOU SIGNED UP FOR AFTER CLICKING THAT READMORE, PAL: PURE UNFILTERED INFODUMPING ABOUT THE FUNNY SEAWEED. The machinations of my mind may be an enigma, but by the end of this, Dhelmise sure won’t be!

Let’s talk temperament! Dhelmise are actually pretty easygoing in a majority of situations. Everyone always focuses on the fact that they hunt and the way that they hunt, but in reality for every period of hunting activity they usually go several weeks to several months seemingly just sitting around on the seafloor doing nothing. Maybe they will extend their chain on particularly sunny days to do some good ol’ photosynthesizing, but they’ll retract their helms quickly when ships, people, or other Pokémon approach. They tend to avoid conflict when possible. Provoking one accidentally is extremely difficult, except when dealing with individuals that are already under stress or that are just unusually high-strung.

Dhelmise attacking seafaring vessels isn’t unheard of, but outside of cases where the ship was actively disturbing one in the midst of hunting or feeding, this is almost always the result of a misunderstanding by an inexperienced individual. When looking from below and taking into account the fact that they’re naturally able to sense the lifeforces of other living things, a ship can seem very similar to a Wailmer or Wailord, especially because many modern ships also have white undersides. While this does mean vessels carrying more people are more likely to be attacked, such a situation can easily be avoided by simply painting the bottom with a color other than white, or adding some kind of easily visible pattern to it that breaks up the shape. Older Dhelmise that have more hunting experience are much better at distinguishing between ships and prey.

Another common misconception is that they are extremely territorial and will “claim” shipwrecks, attacking anyone who dares to get close. In reality, it’s uncommon for one to stay in one place for more than a few months at a time, and especially not in a location that gets little sunlight. They go where their prey goes. While they might have favorite spots to stay in, and are known to try and keep other members of their kind away for the sake of reducing competition— and also to avoid scaring away their prey’s pods, which will avoid areas they think have a lot of Dhelmise present— there have been very few confirmed instances of territorial behavior being enacted on other species of Pokémon, let alone people. There has been exactly one well-documented case where an individual became very protective of a sunken ship, most likely the one it formed from, but it was driven away by trainers.

Most likely, the idea originated from the fact that very new Dhelmise that have only recently established on their debris may lash out in response to people or Pokémon getting close. This is because, up until that point, anything could be a threat, and many things are still unfamiliar to them; just getting that far is practically a miracle, so it makes sense they’d take a while to realize they don’t have to fight for their life 24/7. The world can be a scary place for any young Pokémon, even if you wouldn’t expect that kind of perspective from something so large and strong. Just because they’re an almost one ton baby doesn’t mean they aren’t still a baby. Fear can easily be mistaken for anger when it comes to something that isn’t very expressive.

Though, they can actually be very expressive if you know what to look for. The secret is paying attention to their eye. When they’re happy it might turn sideways in a way that almost resembles a closed eye, or it might slant inward or outward when they’re angry or sad. When they’re particularly upset their pupil can narrow, and when they’re excited or see something they want it can widen much more than you’d expect. When they’re confused it’ll spin in random directions, when uncertain or nervous it might move back and forth more quickly than usual, when startled it might briefly stop moving entirely for a moment, and when they’re content it moves slowly and smoothly. Not as slowly as when they’re asleep, though— they DO sleep.

Thanks to psychic types and, more recently, Rotom pokédexes, phones, and tablets, it’s also become apparent that they’re quite slow as far as Pokémon go. Not slow as in stupid or simple minded, they just tend to go about things in a very deliberate manner; acting on impulse isn’t their style, and they don’t seem interested in much in the short-term. This is likely because they’re benthic organisms for the most part, and not a whole lot actually happens down there in terms of action most of the time. You’ll have the occasional frenzy from Wailord falls— sometimes caused by the sea creeper in question— or storms come through and stir things up, or maybe a new shipwreck occurs and causes commotion. Otherwise life is probably quite slow and uneventful for your average Dhelmise, at least in the wild.

Because they put a lot of thought into things before they act, however, they can be extremely stubborn. Impressively so, even. If a trainer’s Dhelmise decides it wants to be in one spot and not move, there is very little to be done about it outside recalling it to its pokéball. If one doesn’t want to battle, it won’t battle. If one is determined to get into something it isn’t supposed to, such as a pokébean storage container, your only option is to physically remove the container from the premises because they will keep trying to get into it and you are not going to be able to stop them. If one doesn’t want to let go of a toy or other item, it’s theirs now, you are not going to be getting it out of their grip and should just hope they lose interest and drop it eventually, or just plan on getting a replacement.

Speaking of holding things, yeah, they can do that. Most obviously they can manipulate their blades to wrap around objects to hold them, akin to tendrils or vines used by some other Pokémon. They also seem to be able to hold objects with part of their apical holdfast, as if adhering them to itself, though in reality it’s likely actually part of their stipe that does so. When the body is extended, it is the chain that seems to be able to hold things, while neither holdfast ever seems to be used. Perhaps it’s neither, actually, and this is done through spectral means, using something we can’t see to grasp things their blades would struggle to handle. Notably, it’s in the same spot where they “eat” small food items from, like berries. Do they have an invisible mouth there? Probably not, but the way they hold round or smooth things there can be similar to dog Pokémon playing fetch.

They don’t seem to have an aversion to physical contact overall. Like with many other Pokémon, it’s better to let them initiate it first until you have an idea of what their likes and dislikes are, and also because it’s important to set boundaries early. Much like you train dog Pokémon not to bite when playing, you don’t want your giant macroalgae friend to squeeze your arm with one of their blades until the blood circulation gets cut off. At the same time, you shouldn’t try grabbing their blades unless they’ve been offered up by the Dhelmise for that kind of thing of its own accord; not only can they be broken off if they try to pull it away and you reflexively tighten your grip, but such an act can be interpreted as more of an act of aggression than of play or bonding, especially if it’s one you caught in the wild.

Something else that’s very important to keep in mind is that they tend to either really enjoy or absolutely despise having the handles on their helm touched or held onto. So uh. Maybe don’t try to play sailor until you’ve made sure the one you’re interacting with isn’t going to reflexively spin its wheel to get you to let go and accidentally break your wrist in the process. In the same vein, they often don’t like having their anchors handled or otherwise messed with, especially where the metal is exposed or corroded. Cleaning it is rarely necessary, so unless there’s something that really needs to be addressed, like something stuck to or wrapped around it, it’s best to leave it be. If one actually lets you do anything with the anchor, that’s a sign of trust.

When it comes to interacting with other Pokémon, they actually tend to get along much better with smaller Pokémon than larger ones. Perhaps it’s related to how they will often act as a shelter of sorts for small fish Pokémon like Wishiwashi and Skrelp. In an example of a bit of a double standard, they don’t seem nearly as concerned about small Pokémon touching or climbing on their anchors, at most attempting to tilt in a way to harmlessly slide them off. They might get tired out or overstimulated by particularly energetic Pokémon, but seem to be quite patient and won’t lash out unless things get overbearing. The exception being if a little guy tries to pick a fight, in which case things tend to go about as you’d expect.

With larger Pokémon, and especially Pokémon larger than the Dhelmise themself, you really have to take care to set boundaries and make sure they understand friend versus food. One on one introductions should be made beforehand, so that you can anticipate how they will get along prior to having both out in a group, though this really goes for any Pokémon you expect to interact with others at some point. They usually don’t show nearly as much patience for bigger Pokémon at first, and will likely take longer to warm up to them. Once they do, though, they seem way more interested in actively interacting with them. Perhaps they feel less concerned about potentially injuring them due to not seeing them?

Though they don’t tend to readily start fights, if one gets started they can be very efficient at ending them if they get annoyed or angry enough. Preventing things from escalating to that point is therefore very important for the safety of other Pokémon, even if they were fucking around and about to find out. Sometimes the finding out part is a good learning experience that will encourage them to be more well behaved, and sometimes it’s an anchor to the face that will encourage you to practice speedrun routing to the nearest Pokémon center. Better to not see which option it’ll be.

Finally, remember that Dhelmise are just like any other Pokémon! They’ll have likes and dislikes, personalities, various little habits and quirks to pick up on… They’re more than just huge, scary whale hunters or boring, lazy piles of junk, even if that’s not always immediately obvious at first glance. Each one is unique and deserves appreciation. And merch. And a marketable plushie. And one million dollars in cold, hard cash.

If you’re reading this, you finally made it to the end! You survived! Congratulations! You get a gold star ⭐️ and my gratitude.

[melleonis]

list of worm characters and how good they would be at force fem

beware spoilers

UNDERSIDERS Taylor (Skitter): unless there's an estrogen spider somewhere in the world, no shot Taylor (Khepri): unfortunately, unlimited power comes at the cost of a rapidly-dwindling understanding of gender Grue: lacks both the ability and the inclination. his fragile masculinity makes him a fine target, however. Tattletale: you'd think she'd be good at it, or at the very least sufficiently-advanced egg detection, but she also believes everyone on the team is straight, so this is gonna be a blind spot for her. Bitch: shockingly good at it if the end goal is puppygirl, stone useless otherwise. Regent: i mean. he could, but what's in it for him? easily bored, no patience for process. at best he could manage getting someone into a tutu for a lark before losing interest. Imp: gaslight girlboss of course she's gonna be great at this. what's this? all the contents of your underwear drawer replaced? you didn't do that... did you? who else could have? so you must have wanted this...right? Parian: if you will not wear the dress, the dress will have to come to you. Foil: nah

EVERYONE ELSE Accord: ugh who wants a tidy feminization? Bakuda: hey maybe you'll get hit with the fem grenade! probably you'll just die, or worse. Bonesaw: oh now we're talkin. unparalleled biomech horror force fem game. the mechanical spider tapped into your spinal column decides when it's time to get you prettied up for a tea party. Canary: shania twain karaoke incident feminizes twelve, birdcage for sure. Cherish: trivially easy to set up an emotional conditioning system. wearing skirt? dopamine hit! wearing pants? kill yourself - whoops. well, she'll have a lot of time at the bottom of the ocean to figure out correct feedback intensities. Clockblocker: in theory one should be able to get up to some mischief while someone is frozen in time, but i'm not sure dennis has the ability to freeze someone without also freezing their clothes, which means this has limited utility. could play a support role for someone else. Contessa: effortlessly trips you into a chain reaction that completely reshapes your life as part of a twelve-thousand step plan to improve humanity's long-term odds of survival by a fraction of a percent. thank you for your service. Echidna: all your evil monster clones are girls for some reason. whether this works depends entirely on how you respond to awkward post-incident questions your friends have about it. Eidolon: yeah i mean he could. but it doesn't make him feel globally, historically important so he's not gonna. Gallant: is "feminine" an emotion he can inflict? girl feelings beam attack? shame we'll never know, RIP. Gregor the Snail: nothing in canon says he can't secrete a mildly acidic ooze that turns you into a slime girl. Jack Slash: broadcast shard should in theory mean he can easily manipulate other capes into getting feminized, but that's less time spent on self-aggrandizing mass murder, so. Marquis: bone structure matters less than you'd think in the grand scheme of things, but yes he can reshape your jawline and cheek bones, give you those child-bearing hips. pros: he doesn't kill women, so you're that much safer. cons: it is going to hurt like a motherfucker. Number Man: oh no your company has fallen on hard times and you've been laid off! and how peculiar that the only business hiring anywhere near you is the maid cafe. it says they're very strict about their dress code but that's probably fine. and food's gotten so expensive but wait these odd imported protein shakes are absurdly cheap... Panacea: you know what the joke is already, come on. Scion: has Path to Victory and would never in a billion years think of using it for anything fun.

and finally,

the Simurgh: best in show. sure, it'll take four years for the triggers and conditioning to work their way through your subconscious but when they do...

BONUS Simurgh/Dragon double-team: Defiant probably never spent enough time close to the Simurgh to get affected, plus he had those high-tech earplugs he designed himself, so surely he's fine. nevertheless, his focus wanders during a critical moment while editing Dragon's source code, and now she's bossier, maybe even a little meaner, and the prosthetic parts she's making for colin's cyborg body are... different. curvier, softer. and every time he tries to find the problem in her code he gets distracted, and she gets more and more imperious. can he find a way out of the Simurgh's conditioning and his AI lover's domination? will he have to seek help from Saint - or worse, Teacher? surely they wouldn't take advantage of him in his vulnerable cyberdoll state?

[avelera]

So this is a bit random but:

Dream as the hero in a Greek tragedy and Hob as an Arthurian knight.

Thoughts?

(You obviously don’t have to answer if this is stupid or you don't want to)

If I may riff a bit on this, since I don't exactly have a pre-made answer (it's not a line of inquiry I've really considered), I'd say this:

Dream is absolutely a Greek tragedy protagonist. He thinks of himself that way, he's written that way. A major, indeed central, characteristic of Greek tragic heroes is that their virtues in some situations become their ultimate downfall. No one is dying in a Greek tragedy because they're inherently bad or failed people. It is the essence of that Picard line, "It's possible to do everything right and still lose. That's not failure, that's life."

Dream's dedication to his duty is an incredibly familiar virtue for a Greek tragic figure. It is also the virtue that will lead to his eventual end (in this incarnation). At least, in the comic. We'll see in the show if that's the case, and I have my suspicions based on the story's structure that we'll be seeing some deviation or, at the very least, a more optimistic spin on Dream's end.

Neil certainly wrote Dream to be a figure from a Greek Tragedy too, ironic considering he's also the "deus ex machina" in other situations, being literally a creature of godlike (or superior) power.

As for Hob as an Arthurian figure.... I'm less convinced. And I have a lot of reasons why because I think a lot about Hob's relationship, or lack thereof, with the tropes of knighthood as explored in both canon and fanon.

Let me quickly say that for fanon, sure, absolutely. I've seen incredible, complex, lovely takes on Hob as a Questing Knight or suffering the throes of textbook courtly love (more on that in a second, because I do find that part at least plausible) or otherwise being a gallant and heroic figure.

However, this is fanon. Canon Hob is certainly made more romantic, and I mean much more romantic by the show with the whole missed 1989 meeting and Ferdie's inherent and overwhelming charm. But comic Hob is... hmm, let's say he also has his charm but he's deliberately quite rough, quite crass, more than a bit dim at times, and the furthest thing from protagonist let alone romantic hero material. I think comic Hob would laugh, perhaps a bit wistfully, at the very idea of being an Arthurian figure. Certainly the Hob of "Sunday Mournings" (the Ren Faire comic issue) would be outright derisive of the notion of himself as a romantic figure or a questing knight.

Hob bought his knighthood. I think it's something that bears remembering: he bought it.

(Let me very briefly aside say, as a grubby Yankee myself, I actually find his audacity and sort of "Ha! I got away with it!" humor in that moment incredibly charming. Fuck yeah, stick it to the nobility! Fuck aristocracy, fuck nobility, and fuck aristocratic mythology like Arthuriana that reinforces those power structures. Good for Hob being a peasant who bought his knighthood, something that would be all but unthinkable in the grand sweep of Arthuriana, which for all its romanticism is still pretty definitive about everyone belonging in their social place.)

Anyway, Hob bought his knighthood with money he made getting into early English shipping and with money made from being on the right side of Henry VIII dissolving the monasteries (which were corrupt but were also one of the only forms of social services available to common people at the time, it's an incredibly complex issue) and Hob is as unbothered by the moral quandaries of this as he was the moral quandaries of being a soldier or a bandit. Hob is the furthest thing from being a Galahad. I'm not sure he could even aspire to Lancelot at his lowest on Hob's very best of days. He's just not built like that that we see.

At least, until 1989.

Now, as I've noted elsewhere, Hob's story is fundamentally altered by this ever so minor change in the show of making him still in England in 2022, still presumably waiting for Dream about a block away from the White Horse! Now, this is some courtly love shit right there! My jaw dropped when I began to map out the implications, not just of his waiting but of his becoming a history teacher.

Comic Hob never became a history teacher. Comic Hob seems all but allergic to romanticism and nostalgia. Comic Hob's highest moment of romanticism is wondering what exists in the depths of the ocean and thinking that maybe reincarnation possibly exists.

1989 changes everything. Actually, we even have evidence that in the comic timeline, Hob wasn't even in England by, what, 1992 when Dream passes away? He's in America with Gwen and they've been dating for a bit when she takes him to the Ren Faire, which is the day after Dream died. This implies that Hob doesn't usually stick around England like he does in the show timeline. If that wasn't already clear from the fact that most of his professions throughout the glimpses we see seem to involve maritime trade (sometimes of the very worst sort). The guy is constantly on the move but he stayed in England for Dream for over 30 years.

So there, at least, I think we have the first tendrils of something for fandom to grip onto that Hob does have the potential within him to go on a 30 year quest for his lost love, which is very Arthurian. I think even Hob would be perhaps shocked at himself for this, perhaps alongside becoming a history professor, finally coming to grips perhaps with the history he's seen, learning to care about it, learning that there's more to himself than he thought.

Because Hob is a weird immortal. He doesn't do the things we expect immortals to do, like learn from his mistakes and become some sort of avenging superhero, or even accumulate enough money to not need to have a day job any more, to just utterly detached from normal human life. Instead, he seems to stay grounded in a normal middle class life for whatever era he's in (barring disaster or windfall) and just happen to stick at it longer than anyone else by virtue of his immortality. It's so bizarre in the most fascinating way, it's why I'm obsessed with him, because he stays so grounded in his time period and not in any sort of special superhero way.

But 1989 really brings into sharp relief that there is an element of courtly love to how he interacts with Dream, the Beatrice to his Dante, this figure who inspires him, whom he waits for, whom he changes for (even when Dream himself perhaps doesn't believe himself capable of change?).

There I think there's something to the notion of Hob as, perhaps, a budding figure of courtly love, if not full Arthuriana knighthood.

But more intriguing and, if I may presume, what I think you're perhaps getting at with all of this is: could Hob's Questing Knight perhaps in some way disrupt Dream's Greek Tragic fate?

Well, it's not really possible in either of those genres played straight but, in the original canon, Hob didn't wait 33 years for Dream to come home to him.

So really, in the most optimistic way I'd say, anything is possible.

[velvetvexations]

The fact that Junior Year didn't at all challenge the way ANY system is set up is insane to me.

In the first half of the season I kept telling people the solution to Adaine's money problems wouldn't be Fabian buying her shit for her, because Brennan - DECOLONIAL PHILOSOPHER THAT HE IS - would never construct a scenario in which the solution to a ruinous lack of funds would be to get your rich friend to pay it off for you. This was just the foundation of my argument that Fabian literally, in-universe, did not have access to enough money to do that, because BLeeM usually plugs those holes and that seemed to be essentially the point of kicking Hilarial and Gilear off-screen for most of the season, but put that aside. The point is, it was clearly a critique of the system.

Right?

Because I assumed the solution would in some way be either changing the system or breaking free of it. Part of Adaine's problem is capitalism in general, but most immediately it's the financial demands the school system makes of her.

And then...the solution is not that. The solution is that she yells at her bosses to start paying her for being the Oracle, and Fabian beats someone in a dance contest so they do it. Problem solved. It's fine that Aguefort, which prides itself to an insane degree about what an anarchic madhouse it is for all the real freaks who want to just reach out and take life by the horns, requires you buy literal barrels of diamonds to be a wizard. That's fine.

The problem was that Adaine didn't have a fortune, not that she needed a fortune in the first place.

And it's wild because exactly that's something I liked about A Starstruck Odyssey. Obviously, Starstruck is an existing IP, and there wasn't a lot of room to just revolutionize galactic society overnight, but thematically it only enhanced the season's thrust to have everyone's problems be tied to money and for them to get past them by inventively striking a fortune. It was essentially taking this mildly grimdark capitalist hellhole and being like "okay, we'll play by your rules, assholes" and by the end it felt like there was a heavy tone of irony to the celebration of The Ball Rolling Up. Like you were meant to notice and be aware that the crew of the Wurst basking in their newfound riches was good for them personally but also a fucked-up reflection on how the setting operates.

And there was little tiny baby steps towards acknowledgement of systemic issues in JY that seemed promising, but all ultimately fizzled out.

Fig being overwhelmed by her responsibilities as a working musician and owner of a part of Hell? She orders her demonic underlings and indentured souls to help her put on a hella sweet concert and she goes quintuple platinum and her old agent is totally seething.

Gorgug is being failed by an educational structure that won't allow and doesn't even want him to succeed in the way he aspires to? Zac rolls insanely well so no he isn't, he's doing great, everyone should take four times the coursework.

Riz has to do a ton of shit to get into college because as a poor person he has to run to where others walk? Jokes are occasionally made about him being in a lot of clubs but that's never once examined or otherwise touched on between the the third and final episode, with the resolution in the epilogue being his mom going "hey kiddo wherever you end up you'll do great, just as long as you get enough sleep and take regular breaks to eat ice cream!".

Fabian trying to live up to the pressure of his legacy and maintaining his social status at school? Bill has a genuinely moving conversation with Fabian in the finale, indisputably one of the highlights of the season and a moment that in spite of everything I found incredibly powerful, where he tells him that he would love him even if he weren't a Maximum Legend, but it ends on "maybe we can have both" because as Brennan himself noted Lou was rolling so well that it was actively strangling the theme of his arc so that it ended up just being Fabian occasionally feeling a bit frustrated about the pressure while effortlessly succeeding to the point that not even Fig's catastrophic bardic put a dent in his popularity could have been an interesting exploration of tragic imposter syndrome, but it felt more like they were trying to stick to an expected "Fabian has to struggle with fluctuating popularity" plotline without really examining the contradiction.

Kristen failing cleric class? Kristen deserved to fail cleric class.

The issues with Fabian and Gorgug's arc was just luck and a flaw in the downtime mechanic. The others went deeper and man I really wish more had been done there.

[where-dreams-dwell]

There are so many missed opportunities in Part 1 of Bridgerton Season 3 its frustrating to behold.

As one half of the season is out it’s possible that some of these will be fixed in the second half however having to wait until then (not just in terms of release date but also narratively) is not good planning. Having to wait for Part 2 to have most of the interesting things happen with our supposed 'main characters' makes the structure of the season feel unbalanced, and annoys the audience trying to root for the main couple. And a lack of attention to our romantic leads leaves the audience feeling uninvested and unconvinced in their love.

Spoilers below.

....................................................................

1. No flashbacks: by the end of Episode 4 in S1 we knew all of Simons backstory, why he didn’t want children or marriage, and his key character motivations. This helped us understand why Antony was so against the match (he knew of Simon’s vow), why Simon duelling him instead of agreeing to marry Daphne was actually a sign of love, and helped the audience understand his struggle to accept love. Similarly by Ep 4 of S2 we have had Anthony’s tragic past with his father revealed, explaining his fear of love impacting on those around him and explaining why he is fighting the clear feelings he has for Kate. For both of these romantic leads we (the audience) now know why they are refusing their clear and obvious feelings for the heroine, what internal struggles they are going to need to overcome this season, and by proxy have been reassured that they must truly love the heroine otherwise they wouldn’t be tormented.

This explanation and fleshing out of key character-beats reveals the internal motivations which are governing these characters; this knowledge is essential for future scenes where their actions will appear dismissive or unloving and the audience needs to know that they are operating under their own internal world view in which those actions make perfect sense.

Simon rejecting Daphne's hand? He’s not being cruel, he doesn’t want to deprive her of children as he has foresworn having them. Anthony rejecting his feelings for Kate and continuing to pursue her sister? He’s not unfeeling, he’s actually feeling too much and trying to run from it. This knowledge helps us forgive actions that could make us doubt their ‘true feelings’ and is essential to the audience rooting for the couple. When the romantic lead is being an ass it helps for us to know what may be making them act that way.

No Colin flashbacks means we have no idea what motivates him, what his internal journey for this season is, or any reassurance that his love to Penelope is true. What might have been motivating Colin to act like an ass, not just to Penelope but to other people, and what m ight be be grappling with now which is impacting him either realizing his feelings or coming to terms with them? We have no idea, so his journey to love is a little less compelling.

2. Colin didn’t get humbled: through season 1 + 2 we’ve seen Penelope pine after Colin while he bumbles happily along seeing her as a cherished friend but ignoring her for other romantic options. We finished season 2 with a Colin deeply hurting Penelope and implying to the audience that he actually doesn’t respect her even as a friend - what friend would imply their fiend is unattractive or unmarriable to others, especially in that time and society?

As the audience has been following this one sided romance from Penelope’s perspective we’re predisposed to be on ‘her side’, hence wanting Colon to be humbled and have to properly apologise. We want to see Colin chasing Penelope (in a role reversal from the previous two seasons) and be made to eat his own worlds.

Instead we get one scene of Penelope revealing her hurt over Colin’s actions, and then their next scene together Colin is all but forgiven. He apologises but immediately move the conversation on, asking to atone for his actions by offering help and then bam! For all intents and purposes it’s business as usual between the two again. Penelope is happy to chat and banter with him, smile at him lovingly, and agree to a secret (and scandalous) partnership.

Whats even more concerning is that they’ve set up Colin to property hate Lady Whistledown so when Penelope reveals herself she may even have to humble herself before Colin for his forgiveness. Having started the season (with two years to dwell on Colin’s actions) wanting Colin to have to beg Penelope for forgiveness, it feels disappointing that not only do we not get that but we may get significantly more scenes of her begging for his.

3. Penelope and Colin together: this may be more personal preference but I’m not feeling the same for this couple as I did for Daphne+Simon or Kate+Anthony, or even Charlotte+George. Some of it is line delivery (Anthony felt like Brooding Fuckboy, or Fuckboy who’s fighting their inner demons, whereas Colin just feels sleezy), some of it is script (Colin hasn’t been given nearly as much dialogue and little of it is noteworthy), and some is just preference in that this lead doesn’t feel mysterious or challenging or interesting. He’s really just there.

Simon and Daphne, Kate and Anthony, Charlotte and George they all had this tension when they were on screen together that you could feel through the screen. Maybe it’s the lack of anger or hatred or antagonism between the two of them and due to them being a friends to lovers storyline but the tension just doesn’t feel like it’s there.

4. Time with the main couple: It doesn't feel like the 'main couple' this season has had as much time or scenes to help us understand why they are meant to be together.

This is an ensemble show and as season continue and characters develop or are added this will become a bigger issue; there are more named characters and players than S1 to juggle, plus some characters need time this season to set themselves up for future plot lines.

But Season 1 felt like Daphne and Simons season. Season two felt like Kate and Anthony's season. This doesn't feel like Colin and Penelope's season. Its more like this is a drama-filled season, and one aspect of it is Colin and Penelope.

5. Colin's Character: This is actually a much bigger problem so lets break it down further

5.1 Why Colin? In a friends to lovers plot (a childhood friends to lovers plot too) we really need to see why our heroine is fixated on this man; why is he better than all her other options, why did she originally fall and then remain in love with them for all these years, and why should we want him to realise his own feelings? Crucially what is so special about him?

As Colin hasn't yet been fleshed out, really at all, we don't know why he is this great love for Penelope and why we should root for him to fall in love with her in turn. So Penelope's pining for him comes across as less understandable and more 'I don't get what you see in him but okay'. And that's bad, especially for a show which wants you to go feral over their central couple; fewer members of the audience falling in love with the lead means fewer people understanding Penelope maintaining this crush (especially when its detrimental to her future) which means fewer people rooting for the main couple.

5.2 Colin’s character dissonance: this is kind of a show don’t tell issue but we keep being told all these things about Colin’s character, instead of seeing examples of this behavior ourselves, and on top of that what we are told doesn’t match with what we are shown.

Violet tells Colin he’s ’always putting others first’ but we have never seen this in 2 1/2 seasons of this show. Colin has left to travel in every off season, a very self centred action focused solely on what he wants to do and not what others may want. We’ve seen Benedict put people first more than Colin (being the shoulder for Eloise, helping her out in ballrooms, being Anthony’s second for his duel and his sounding board with Sharma issues) so that character assessment feels untrue.

Violet also calls Colin her ‘most sensitive child’ but we have not one scene of Colin showing this sensitive side. There’s no scene of him comforting Daphne about her failed season or Anthony about his problem with the Sharmas; no moment showing him helping out anyone outlet out of the kindness of his heart, or reacting to another’s pain or worry or problems so again this feels like Violet is describing a totally different character.

Penelope says Colin’s eyes are more beautiful ‘when you’re being kind’ but we haven’t seen Colin be overly kind to anyone. He told Marina in S1 he would have still married her if she had told him of her pregnancy, but this is stated when he’s angry so he’s probably not feeling or looking very kind right then, and it isn’t him actually doing this action, it’s just him claiming what he would have done. When he’s goes to visit Marina in S2 his actions come off more desperate and clingy than anything close to kind. If you argue that his tutoring if Penelope is kind, it’s actually self serving as he offered to do this to atone for him being decidedly not kind at the end of last season. He’s helping her out but he offered this to make up for hurting her before so I don’t think you can view this as a selfless act.

When he reveals Jacks scheme in S2 and demands he pay back money while preserving the Featherington Ladies good name he is undoubtably doing a good act but ‘kind’ isn’t the way he’s portrayed: he’s shown as decisive, protective, angry, courageous, bold, etc.. all very good things but still not that ‘kind’ Penelope talks about.

The last time Colin did something entirely kind may have been Season 1 asking Penelope to dance after Cressida ruined her dress. If that's it, that's very little to go on and a very long time ago.

It feels like people are trying to tell us that Colin is a good guy, without showing us moments where he actually is good. It comes off as clunky and doesn’t match the character we have seen, so these claims have little impact on our assessment of him as a person and as a lead.

5.3 Colins Writing; Stop trying to make Colin's Great Writing happen. Its not going to happen.

At least not when the only snippet you give us is basically porn.

I haven't read the books but I've heard that Colins writing snippet that Penelope finds, while starting as porn, eventually turns into a rumination on how unfulfilled and alone these actions make Colin feel and how he feels lost. That would have been an amazing moment to have in the show, giving us honesty and a secret from the romantic lead and adding depth to Colins actions (which are a little jarring to watch while we actively want him to be falling for Penelope).

If Colin is this great writer then have him writing more. In the back of conversations at breakfast, have him reading his travel journals or scribbling in a notebook. In the hot air balloon scene have Colin seek out an adventure novelist to talk about his experiences. Maybe he gets a letter from Sir Phillip asking about his travels since they enjoyed speaking so much last season, and Colin sends long and detailed responses people joke are like novels (also great for future seasons).

Right now it feels like window dressing and a throw away comment that he's 'an incredibly talented writer' and doesn't match what we've seen of him.

(Side note: it is objectively hilarious that Penelope reads one page of smut about a naked woman the author is sleeping with, then later describes this page of writing as 'incredible' while claiming she 'would love to read more'. You sure you're 100% interested in Colin there Penelope...?)

5.4 How is Colin a Tragic Hero?: This figure always works best for romatic stories and all other Bridgerton Seasons have followed the formula. Simon had a negligent and abusive father and no good examples of marriage or family, Anthony had traumatically had his beloved father die in front of him and been parentified at a young age, and George had the weight of the crown destroying his mental health. All of these leads had a demon they were wrestling with and it gave them intrigue and interest.

Colin has no demons; at least none we've been made aware of.

There's a vague allusion (from Eloise, Lady Whistedown and Violet) that Colin is in some way 'putting on a front' this season. What would have been amazing for the audience would have been a scene or two showing Colin struggling to fit in (in his family, in the Ton, etc) and him feeling alone or isolated because of it. Maybe traveling was his attempt to have interesting stories to tell, or something to distinguish himself with but upon his return (Season 2) no one had an interest in listening and groaned when he tried to share his stories, and so he turned to writing them down instead and decided to shut himself off from trying to relate to everyone as 'himself' and instead to become 'The Traveler' character and pretend so he can fit in.

This would not only give Colin a Secret or a Demon that he needed to work through, but offer us (the audience) a way in which he would be able to understand and support Penelope; another person feeling isolated and unheard who turned to writing to express themself.

While there are the bones of a great love story here the little work put in to flesh out Colin as an individual, giving us no idea of what experiences made him and what he is currently grappling with, means the audience doesn't have much to go on when Penelope professes to love him. Who is this man, as descriptions of him don't match his actions and those actions he does have are both seemingly self serving (travel) and not fully fleshed out (writing); and both annoyingly happen largely off screen. And as the current structure pits Penelope as likely the one needing to beg forgiveness by the end of the season, while we entered it expecting Colin to begging for her forgiveness, their current relationship doesn't feel as salifying or as earned as we could have hoped.

Here's to Part 2 doing some very heavy lifting.

[arduennas]

i saw wicked!! 8/10 movie very good. i also have many thoughts head full. i fully acknowledge that these thoughts could only belong to the diseased mind of a person who has thought too much about wicked for the last 7+ years. anyway spoilers and general ambivalent thoughts ahead etc

good things first:

cynthia erivo slay!! she was like an average good elphaba imo which means she was incredible by normal standards

set design and choreography ATE. munchkinland? the emerald city? the clockography? ate ate ate

overall the movie was just visually beautiful. it was colorful and sparkly and looked soooo expensive. whenever a new location appeared for the first time i literally gasped. i loved it

elphaba’s party dress was GORGINA 😍😍😍

michelle yeoh and jeff goldblum my beloved evil parents… they can’t sing but idc they were so cunty

they sort of kept the hammerheads in one short day which is all i wanted from that song. wicked is not wicked without the egg puppet freaks

they didn’t add anything from the book thank fucking god

ari was funny and pretty good! will expand on her later. i think they did popular the best they could in a movie format given that the song relies so much on improv, physical comedy, audience response, etc.

neutral to bad things:

ok so ariana. very eyebrow-heavy performance. not bad vocally! it was foul to make her sing with cheno during osd though, the difference in quality was so clear lmao. i’m interested to see how she’ll deal with act 2 both vocally and acting-wise

i didn’t like how light ariana sang throughout the whole movie. idk if she was directed to do this though—i could see them telling her to do glinda less obnoxious or tone down the comedy which i understand for a movie. but come on girl it won’t kill you to do a full belt in the studio ONCE

ariana and cynthia’s voices do not blend well. you can tell cynthia was trying to tone herself down to match ari and ari was just not giving in return

the mixing was weirdly unbalanced in a lot of the duety portions and i couldn’t tell whether it was the fault of the sound design or the actors just not being able to sound good together lol

it fucking DRAGGED. there is a 90-minute edit of this movie that could easily have existed. none of us needed to hear something bad or a sentimental man. they took every small pause in the music and stretched it out to the point where it interrupted the flow of the song AND became patently obvious that they were trying to pad for time. the new part of one short day with idina and kristin was not good and also too long. the added chase scene before defying gravity started out fun but then went on way longer than it should have. the ozdust dance was SO LONG my god. i could write up a whole list of shit that went on pointlessly for way too long but we would be here all day

there are some elphabas who can carry i’m not that girl. cynthia is not one of them and this is my only complaint about her performance. she divafied a song that is not meant to be divafied

dancing though life was arranged and directed badly. for lack of a better term it’s meant to be a stoner song and it was way too punchy. also if you’re going to insist on casting a white fiyero at least make him good #notmyfiyero

the lighting was often not good??? i think because a lot of it was filmed outside and the sun washed out the set or created a glare. some odd color grading choices as well. really weird because otherwise visually the movie was stunning as i said before

this is a criticism of many modern movies, definitely not wicked-specific, but a lot of the the costumes looked cheap and it’s because of productions cutting corners when it comes to materials and tailoring. especially compared to the show costumes which are so intricate and structurally well-made because they’ve had to last for literally 20 years. we need to ban polyester from film sets i’m so serious

glinda and elphaba should have kissed each other on the mouth

[witherby]

format as in a way of writing!

like do you write much in a paragraph or not?

how do you think it’s aesthetically pleasing?

—🦈

Ah, okay! So, I've spent a lot of time reading and writing since I was, like, 8. I also took a Creative Writing minor in college to help me polish up a big chunk of my missing skills. At this point, what I lack isn't so much technique as it is..um...skill. LMAO. So please take this with a grain of salt!

The point is, there is a "right" way and a "wrong" way to structure your stories. The people who tell you otherwise are being very kind, but not realistic. The biggest things you have to keep track of when you structure your stories are ideas, vocabulary, and dialogue.

This post is long and kind of preachy. Forgive me for that; I'm trying to answer you as best and earnestly as I can.

So, let's process ideas, first. You'll notice that I've started a new paragraph to cover this topic for you, because it is its own category and therefore doesn't make sense to lump together with the other two points mentioned above. If you're trying to convey an idea or a subject or a topic in an understandable way, you wanna keep the parts that are related to that idea/subject/topic together. If you don't have a lot to say about a thing, your paragraph about it is going to be smaller. If you have a lot to say about a thing, your paragraph is going to be bigger. This paragraph, for example, conveying information to you about conveying your ideas properly, is kinda long, which is normal and bound to happen sometimes. Your paragraphs don't all have to be of equal length from start to end.

Let's discuss vocabulary, next. Word choice is everything, in my opinion. The difference between "transparent" and "diaphanous" may not literally be much, but one of those words is definitely more well-known and easier to understand than the other. Don't assume your readers are babies and only give them tiny words to work with, yet do not presume that witnesses to your chronicles cling to an intellectual high ground on the contrary. You need just enough to draw people in, but not too much that it'll bore them and not so little that they're missing crucial story components. I advise cracking open a thesaurus and playing around with your word choices until you find a balance that makes you happiest.

Finally, let's touch on dialogue. "Dialogue?" You ask. "Yes," I say. "What do you mean?" You ask again. "I mean that there are two components at play for dialogue, and this paragraph is a glaring example."

"Every time a different character speaks, it is a new thought being expressed," I elaborate.

"What's that mean for me?" You might ask.

"It means," I say, "that a new thought gets a new paragraph. Now, if it's the same person speaking, you can let them ramble for a while and not create a new paragraph, because the reader inherently understands that it's the same person the whole time. But the second one is done, and another speaks instead, you need to visualize that change with the start of a new paragraph. You need to create that separation."

"I do?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Even for one-word answers? Replies so quick that they're barely anything?"

"Even then."

In summary, you can dress up your stories any way you want, with italics or big letters or small letters or pictures or borders, to your heart's content. It could be the prettiest post I've ever seen in my life. It's not gonna mean a thing if the work doesn't follow a smooth transition of subject, utilizes good verbiage, and has easy-to-follow dialogue, though.

Of course there are exceptions to these rules, because writing is not black and white. We wouldn't have poetry otherwise. But that would require much more typing and ranting and I've already gone on long enough. Practice is going to be your biggest teacher, but these are some good foundational points to keep in mind as you create.

I hope this was useful!

[thebirdandhersong]

Okay so this year I watched a total of six dramas (seven if I manage to finish Run On before the new year, which might sound unlikely, but let's be for real: I have no plans, no friends living nearby, and no willpower to do anything drastically festive)! and these are some of the things I learned about writing from Love Next Door, Lovely Runner, Brewing Romance, Twinkling Watermelon, Knight Flower, and Summer Strike:

You don't need to reveal everything at the same time. The fondness Korean scriptwriters have for nonlinear storytelling (or the careful omitting of information for future revelatory purposes) is so interesting to me, and the way they reveal information you didn't realise they didn't tell you, especially in Lovely Runner, Twinkling Watermelon, and Summer Strike, makes the experience SO much fun.

Value of shared laughter. This is true especially in Brewing Romance, Knight Flower, and Summer Strike, where laughter is a key piece in the development of romantic relationships. What can I say? It gets me every time.

A good story creates expectations for the person listening to the story. If you set it up well, the reader/watcher will have a vague idea of what's to come that starts to form in their mind, and what you do with those expectations is then up to your own creativity. But the worst thing you can do for your narrative setup to go absolutely nowhere (see: Love Next Door and the complete lack of emotional depth and complexity in the relationship in the last few episodes. The setup for this relationship was so promising and it turned out rather flat at the end. The second leads became so much more interesting, but that also fell a bit flat in the end due to the writing. In a similar vein, you can take a look at Lovely Runner, which almost hits the biggest emotional beat in the story perfectly. You know that the truth about the time travelling WILL come out at some point, but the amount of time given to the reveal is so short and not as weighty as it should have been, compared to all the weight of the time travelling and the choices that build throughout the story. ALSO! You KNOW that Eungyeol is going to develop an even stronger bond with his parents in Twinkling Watermelon, both in the past and in the future. The fun of it is seeing how that comes about).

When you're writing historical fiction, societal norms (especially courtly manners, laws, curfews, and limitations) actually provide you an opportunity to play around and get creative. Knight Flower is set in the Joseon dynasty, and the writers do SUCH a good job exploring neo-Confucian ideas about women's role in society. Yeohwa's whole Robin Hood thing develops BECAUSE it is so restrictive for her as a widow, and the story gets to explore certain social situations in depth because those social norms are being observed by the characters (it's like having worldbuilding rules in a fantasy story). If you honour the structure you're working with, you can come up with quite a lot of plot points and scenarios that otherwise might not hold the same kind of weight.

The importance of inter-generational mentorship (i.e. Yeoreum and Bom's grandma in Summer Strike, Yongju and her grandma + Yongju and her old boss + Minju and the old ladies + in Brewing Love, the music store owner and Eungyeol in Twinkling Watermelon, etc.), which is a relationship that is deeply under-appreciated in individualistic cultures, and systems of honour according to age and experience. In my country, the communal part of life is and is treated as an integral part of society, and is even deeply embedded in the language. You would, in fact, call someone Mr. Manager or Ms. Librarian or Mrs. Teacher or Mr. Dentist. And you would, generally, treat those older than you with respect and deference, and consider those younger than you your duty to care for and teach. Tangentially, this is really lacking in the church right now and it bothers me very deeply that people simply don't care about bringing up the next generation and actually having a HAND in that, i.e. taking time to do that, making sacrifices for that, being inconvenienced in that, etc..... it is a rather detached approach that does no one any good whatsoever.

The importance of those quiet moments when you're sharing silence with someone. Summer Strike does this particularly well.

The importance of acknowledging and learning about the past so that you can navigate the present wisely. This shows up well in Love Next Door when Seokryu's past illness is revealed (and then the abrupt tone shift from that moment forward simply ruins the effect, in my opinion, but anyways) and in Summer Strike (at least in the first three quarters of the story). And it's practically the whole point of Twinkling Watermelon -- Eungyeol's main purpose becomes learning the past and changing the narrative. Anyway, side-eyeing Brewing Romance again for Yongju's complete lack of interest in Minju's past. That bothers me greatly. (She's willing to fantasize about what high school would've been like if Minju were there with her, but not willing to ask and hear him out about what ACTUALLY happened? Anyway.)