#like this is supposed to be a horror story and it's just not horrifying enough

[vintagedean]

okay, because i won't leave reviews for these books on goodreads, i have to do it here, so i'm going to try and present some level-headed and sincere critiques of k. webster's "laska" (and her writing more generally)

k. webster clearly thinks incest is hot. she thinks rape is hot. she thinks age gaps are hot. i think 2 out of those 3 things are hot myself (FICTIONALLY OBVIOUSLY BUT JUST TO BE CLEAR). but my issue is that she doesn't seem to appreciate that any story, regardless of how shocking and taboo and smutty it's intended to be, benefits from build up. and taboo topics become more interesting, more complex, and more gratifying to get off to, if i'm gonna be so fucking for real about this, when you actually give them weight. the taboo being broken has to matter.

idk, maybe it's just me, but i would just prefer if a story like "laska" (which is quite short) still did more than it does to get at why these two brothers like to fuck, why they like to eat people, why they're corrupted in these particular ways. maybe there are people who, the fact of these things is enough to be arousing, but i just think that's boring. under the read more i'm including the last two pages because i think they give a good example of what has me rolling my eyes at this story. shock for shock's sake is just meh to me.

[oliversrarebooks]

chemical imbalance

You know that trope where horrifying things are treated as mundane? You know that trope where the whumper is talking around the whumpee like they aren't even a person? This is that story.

TW: alien abduction, alien parasites, body horror, brainwashing, mind control, restraints, tentacles, forced drugging, forced medical examination, complete dehumanization, condescension, defiant whumpee

The receptionist was young and lovely, their skin a fetching shade of blue-purple, and their human host was healthy and smiling, with the dazed, glassy expression that indicated it was well taken care of.

5X2 couldn't help the wave of intense jealousy. Their own human host's gut churned in panic. It was lucid enough to know it was being brought to the doctor, and didn't like the idea at all, stress hormones flooding its fragile body. 5X2 pumped out chemicals to soothe it, beamed calming imagery into its mind, even tried to reassure it through its psychic connection that it was just the doctor, the doctor was going to help it, and hopefully they'd both be feeling better. 

All of their efforts only put the smallest dent in the distress their host was feeling. Well, no wonder -- 5X2 couldn't even remember the last time their poor host had properly slept. They took a deep breath, reassuring their human host that they weren't angry at it, not at all. They loved their host and knew it wasn't its fault it was struggling so hard. The host thrashed mentally, adrenaline rising, coming dangerously close to waking fully as 5X2 wrangled its consciousness back under control.

"I'm 5X2-YLL, and I'm here for my 3100 appointment," they said to the receptionist, hoping they couldn't tell how much trouble they were having with their human.

Sympathetic waves rolled from the receptionist as they looked 5X2 up and down. Oh, they could tell. 5X2 knew their human looked an absolute mess, with a wild expression, deep bags under its eyes, and poor hygiene. The past few days, 5X2 had even taken sick leave from work, embarrassed to go out in public in this state -- that's how they knew they had no choice but to make a doctor's appointment.

"Right this way, 5X2. The doctor is running a bit behind, but if you'll just go into this examination room, they'll be with you shortly. Please have your host change into this medical gown... if you're able."

"Yes, thank you." The door clicked shut behind the receptionist as 5X2 looked around the small examination room. It looked like any other doctor's office, but they couldn't help but notice that the examination chair had formidable looking restraints on it. They supposed it was to be expected for a doctor who specialized in disorders of host control.

The far too lucid human noticed too, and all of its muscles tensed as it signaled to every corner of its body to escape, escape, escape. 5X2 had no choice but to inject yet another low dose of paralytics into its bloodstream, just to make sure it couldn't actually act on that misguided impulse. 

The paralytics kept the human from moving, but also meant that 5X2 had to do much more manual work puppeting its body, and they were so, so tired. With their host's clumsy fingers, they pulled off their shoes, shirt, and pants, and slipped on the flimsy medical gown. The human was expressing distress at having their physical form exposed, of all the ridiculous things. Sometimes 5X2 wished that its constant fears at least made sense. Instead, it was scared of the doctor, of being nude, even of the everyday, ordinary sight of other human hosts with their passengers atop their heads, tentacles nestled neatly in their ears and euphoric expressions on their faces.

I'm trying to help you, 5X2 conveyed through their psychic connection for what seemed like the billionth time this cycle.

All they got back in return was terror, anger, and the intense desire to go home.

We can go home after the appointment, 5X2 reminded it, beaming soothing images of their quarters, the cheery artificial sun lamp, their collection of exotic plants, their vibrant fiber arts, the beautiful view of stars from out of their window. Their host had always been calmed by these things in better days, but it wasn't working now. It didn't make any sense to 5X2 -- if it wanted to go home so badly, why didn't it respond to sensory landscapes of home? 

Surely it wasn't lucid enough to desire its human habitat...? The human habitat was a death world compared to the safety and comfort of the space station.

There was a knock on the door, and the doctor walked into the room. They carried an air of authority about them, perched on top of a petite human who moved with unusual grace. "Hello, 5X2," said the doctor in a kindly voice. "I understand you're here because you're having difficulty in controlling your human host. Is that correct?"

5X2 looked anywhere but at the doctor, pretending to be very interested in a cabinet full of jars of multi-colored fluids. "Ah, yes, that's correct."

"There's no need to be ashamed. There's a lot of unfair stigma attached to host difficulties, but I assure you that it's a far more common problem than you think. There's no judgement here. Please, tell me about what you've been experiencing."

"My human host is almost completely lucid for most of the cycle," 5X2 confessed, trying to suppress their waves of shame and sadness. "I can't keep it fully entranced, I can't soothe it, I can't even put it to sleep. It's constantly scared and stressed and won't stop filling its body with adrenaline."

"I see."

"I have to spend so much of my energy just keeping it from fully waking, and it's affecting my work and my social life. I can't even relax on my days off, because every time I let my guard down, it decides it's a good time to fight me," they said. "I love my host, but I'm at my limit. I can't go on like this. It's sick all of the time from stress hormones, and I'm constantly fatigued. If there's anything you can do, anything at all that would help..."

The doctor's host nodded sagely. "There's a number of common conditions that could cause symptoms like you're describing. If you don't mind, I'd like to take a blood sample from your host so we can run some lab tests while conducting the examination."

"Of course," said 5X2, holding out their host's arm while the doctor prepared a needle for the blood draw. As the needle grazed the host's skin, the human managed to wrest enough control to jerk backwards, irrationally panicked at the sight of the needle. "I'm so sorry. It's been especially determined to fight me on everything today."

"It's nothing to worry about. I see it all the time. Hosts can be smarter than we give them credit for -- it's probably realized that the doctor's appointment is for putting it back under."

"But why does it fight that? That doesn't make any sense -- doesn't it want to be calm and happy? Why would it want to be stressed and miserable?"

"Oh, it's not that it wants to be stressed and miserable. It's just the natural state of hosts that aren't fully entranced. It's not its fault that it's acting this way -- it just doesn't know any better," said the doctor. "To make the examination easier, it might be best if we strapped your host into the chair, if you don't mind the restricted mobility."

"Not at all. It'd be a relief to not have to suppress their impulses," said 5X2. Their human predictably howled with displeasure, scraping and clawing for any bit of control over its limbs as 5X2 fought its body into the chair and tried to hold it still as the doctor restrained it. It was even managing to resist the paralytics, utterly desperate to escape.

If this doctor couldn't help them, 5X2 was going to lose their mind.

With the host's body securely restrained, the doctor was finally able to take a blood sample. The human's consciousness was thrashing like a wounded dust-moth, but with their body secured, 5X2 could devote their whole efforts to dampening their mental distress.

"If you'll excuse me a moment, I'll bring this to the lab. We should get results in around ten deciclicks."

5X2 tried to relax in the chair as the doctor left the room, but of course their exhausting host was having none of it.

Why are you fighting so hard? they asked.

The answer was always the same.

I want to go home. I don't want to be a host. I don't want to be hypnotized again. Please let me go.

Incoherent nonsense. The poor, confused thing.

"All right, that's taken care of," said the doctor, entering the room and perching on a nearby stool. "Now, may I ask you some questions? How long have you been noticing these symptoms?"

"About a quarter star turn."

"I see. And have you previously sought help for them?"

"...No. I really should have, before it got to this point, but I was ashamed. I thought it was temporary, and that I could fix my host myself."

"At least you're here now. You're doing the right thing," said the doctor encouragingly. "How often does the human sleep?"

"Only once every few cycles, and for only a few clicks at a time. I can't keep it to anything resembling a schedule, either, and it doesn't seem to respond to sedation at all. The only mercy is that it often sleeps while I'm at work."

"And how do you normally soothe it?"

"I think I've tried just about everything. Before this all started, it was so easy -- a quick wash of sedative and neurotoxin, some soothing hallucinations, a little gentle urging of slumber, and it was out in a milliclick. It would normally sleep for half the cycle. But now, nothing works. Not toxins, not hallucinations, not psychic compulsions. It doesn't matter what I do, I simply cannot put it to sleep.  The only reason it sleeps at all is because its own consciousness turns itself off when it becomes too exhausted."

"You say it was easily controlled before?"

"Very much so. It took very well to deep trance, especially if I was listening to music. It enjoyed art and scenery and was calm as can be. I never imagined it was capable of so much anxiety."

"How close is its consciousness to the surface?"

"...Very. It's listening to everything we're saying. It might even be able to understand us. Well, as much as any host is capable of understanding."

"Has it ever become fully awake?"

5X2 hesitated.

"Please, don't be ashamed. I'm here to help you, but I need you to answer my questions honestly. Has it ever become fully awake?"

"...A handful of times," 5X2 admitted. "It didn't get very far before I was able to paralyze it and return it to my control, but... it was so terrifying, to feel my host wake, to take full control from me and do what it wished with its body."

"That's a very traumatic experience," said the doctor sympathetically. "Once we have the main issue sorted out, I recommend a visit to memory alteration to remove the unnecessary fear generation."

"Won't they judge me for losing control of my human?"

The doctor seemed lightly amused. "5X2, it's the memory alteration department. Don't you think they've seen far worse than that?"

"You're right, just a silly insecurity on my part," said 5X2, mirroring the doctor's amusement.

"Let me perform some quick examinations on your host's body while we have you here," said the doctor. "Your host is partially lucid and fearful right now, correct?"

"Extremely so," said 5X2, feeling the horrible squirm in their host's gut at the mention of the doctor examining it.

The doctor waved a small light in front of the human's eyes. "Pupils are very dilated. It's focusing clearly on my light, indicating a high degree of responsiveness. Dark circles indicate a dangerous lack of sleep, and the skin seems unusually flaky and dry. This all matches the symptoms you've described."

They moved around to 5X2's side, using the light to peer into its host's ear. "Everything looks healthy and normal here," they said, giving a slight tug to 5X2's left connector tentacle. "Connection seems firm. I assume it's enmeshed with the correct portions of the brain? You have at least six tendrils on each side of the frontal lobe, three in the parietal, and two in the occipital?"

"Of course, doctor."

"I know it sounds obvious, but I have to ask. Believe it or not, I've had more than one patient that neglected to enmesh the frontal lobe entirely. You can imagine what kind of a state their poor host was in."

"I'm amazed that anyone in this age is so ignorant. That sounds like torture for them."

"You're not wrong," said the doctor, clicking off their light. "From the outside, there doesn't seem to be any issues, but if we can't resolve the problem, we may need to do some scans to check that all of your tendrils are properly connected. It's uncommon, but there are certain disorders that prevent proper cohesion of tendril to host brain."

"I'll subject myself to any tests if it will help."

"I know how intensely uncomfortable it must be to have your host so wakeful, for both you and it," said the doctor. "I'm certain we can help you. It's extremely rare for this sort of problem to be beyond the reach of modern medicine."

A knock at the door, and the receptionist entered the room. "I have the results from the lab for you," they said, slipping out again quickly.

The doctor's host took the readout and looked it over, as 5X2 waited in anticipation and 5X2's host trembled in terror. Finally, there was a wave of satisfaction from the doctor. "I have good news for you, 5X2. The lab results may have given us an important clue to your problem."

"Truly? What is it?"

"You see here..." The doctor placed the readout in front of 5X2. It was full of miniature graphs and jargon that they didn't have a hope of understanding. "Most of the toxin levels in the human's blood were highly elevated -- no doubt due to your efforts to keep it under control -- but one in particular was abnormally low, almost undetectable."

"And that is?"

"In basic terms, it's a powerful hypnotic, the primary toxin used to keep the human mind asleep and docile. Without this important chemical, your host's mind is far more alert than it should ever be. That makes it less receptive to all of your efforts to soothe it, allows stress and fear hormones to build up in its delicate brain, and causes it to resist being put to sleep."

"And that's what's missing?" said 5X2, feeling waves of relief at having an answer.

"It would seem so. The absence of this hypnotic would make it next to impossible to keep a healthy human under trance. It's no wonder your efforts to sedate and entrance your host were fruitless. I'm honestly impressed you were able to walk into my office."

"Is there a cure?"

"There are a few different conditions that can cause this. To start with, I'm going to give you a prescription for a course of medication that should help promote the natural release of this chemical from your toxin glands. It has a few minor potential side effects, which the informational packet will describe."

"No side effects can possibly be worse than what I'm going through now. How long will that take to have an effect?"

"It should be at full strength in eight to ten cycles. We can see how you're responding, then, and I can advise you on a further course of treatment."

5X2 steadied themself. Eight to ten cycles. They could endure eight to ten more cycles.

"But in the meantime, we can simply inject your host with a big, healthy dose of the chemical cocktail it's been missing."

5X2's elation was almost drowned out by its host's panic and despair. "You can do that? You can do that right now?"

"Certainly," said the doctor, pulling a jar of translucent blue liquid from a shelf. "Let me prepare the injection. It's all natural and safe for both of you. I'm sure you're both eager to get some reprieve from fighting each other."

"And I'll be able to put my host to sleep? To keep it under trance?"

"With this extra strength, time release formula, it should be well out of it for the next few cycles, exceedingly simple to control. You can both finally get the rest you need."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, you don't know how much of a relief that is."

No! No, no, no! the human was screaming through their connection. Don't let them inject me with that! Let me go! I want to go home! I need to wake up -- I need to --

"I need to wake up!" 

5X2 felt their consciousness suddenly cut off from their host's body as the human woke. It pulled at the restraints, trying to get its hand free.

"Please let me go! Don't do this!" the human yelled, as the doctor looked on with curiosity.

"Oh, you're awake? Now, now, we're only trying to help you," said the doctor. "Aren't you tired of fighting? Aren't you scared and hurting?"

"I'm scared and hurting because of what you're doing to me! This isn't right! Humans aren't meant to live like this -- you've taken my entire life from me!" Tears streamed down its face. "You're a doctor -- if you have any compassion at all, please listen to me! We don't want to be hypnotized and turned into puppets. We don't want to spend our whole lives sleeping and hallucinating and floating along in a mindless trance. We want to be free!"

The doctor patted its head. "I know this must all seem so scary to you, but it's only because of a chemical imbalance. That's why your passenger brought you here to the doctor, to help you. Your passenger loves you very much and only wants the best for you. Do you understand?"

"No, I don't want this. This is wrong -- please listen!"

"You're going to feel so much better in just a few minutes. I promise. Just trust me," said the doctor, their host easily pinning down 5X2's host's restrained arm and administering the injection. 

"No, please!" 5X2's host struggled uselessly against the tight restraints, its panic reaching a fever pitch, as 5X2 sat in their own mind and watched. "Please! Please listen! Let me go! Let me... go..."

The human host's body relaxed, sagging against the restraints as its control over itself suddenly diminished. 5X2 could feel a lovely sense of peace wash over their host, a sensation they hadn't felt in a quarter star turn. 

5X2, eager to take back its host, sent deep, hypnotic compulsions to fog its host's mind, to sink it into a pleasant daze, to pull it back under their control, and they were delighted when the host responded swiftly and easily. All of that fight, that fear, that anger began to evaporate like mist as 5X2 gently soothed its host into a trance.

You want to be a good host, 5X2 coaxed. You want to stop resisting. You want to weaken your feeble mental defenses and let me in.

I want to... Their host's thoughts were faltering and slow, easy to manipulate, just as they should be. I want to be a good host... want to let you in... want to drop my defenses... stop resisting...

Yes, that's right. Lower those defenses. You're safe, completely safe. You can relax now.

There was only a slight hesitation before the response. Safe... relax...

 5X2 felt the human's resistance melt away, leaving its mind like soft clay in their grasp.

Finally.

5X2 rewarded their host's compliance with a pleasant vision of the ship's recreation district, filled with laughter and games and live music, one that their host used to be fond of before it became impossibly defiant. Their host latched onto the familiar, mollifying hallucination right away, like a young one with its comfort-toy.

Fun... pretty...

Yes, it is fun and pretty, said 5X2. You deserve it, because you're being very good right now. Aren't you glad I took you to the doctor?

Feels... hazy...

And isn't that good?

Mmhmm... good... so good... thank you...

"How is it feeling now?" asked the doctor. "Any better?"

"Oh, yes, that was absolutely brilliant," said 5X2. "It's completely docile and enjoying its favorite hallucination right now. I can't thank you enough."

"Excellent. I'm just glad that worked. I'll make an appointment for you ten cycles from now, and give you the prescriptions for the medication I recommend, along with a course of injectables to keep your host nice and compliant. It shouldn't give you any more trouble."

"That sounds perfect."

"I recommend putting your host to sleep for the next cycle. It must be so fatigued after all of that pointless struggle, and a prolonged period of rest will help it to reacclimate to your control."

"I don't think I need to worry about the last part," said 5X2 gleefully. "It seems so relieved to be back under. But I agree that it needs sleep. Maybe I can get some sleep too."

5X2's host was already flooded with the injected sedative, so they sent a simple but strong compulsion to lull it asleep. Its exhausted mind responded right away, filling it with a deep, irresistible drowsiness, its remaining thoughts dulling and fading as it drifted away peacefully. The cheerful hallucination of the recreational zone would give it pleasant dreams. 5X2 couldn't remember the last time their host had been so quiet, not a hint of stress or nightmares.

It was so charming to feel their delightful host curling up comfortably in its own mind and going to sleep. It reminded 5X2 of how much they loved their host, before everything had gone wrong.

"It worked," said 5X2 in awe.

"Asleep already? I thought so. It was so worn out."

"Thank you again, doctor, for all of your help. My host wanted to thank you, too, before it fell asleep. I can tell that it already feels so much happier."

"It's my pleasure." The doctor released 5X2's host from the chair. 

5X2 stood up, shedding the medical gown and putting the host's clothes back on its body. Control was simple and seamless now, the host's body moving exactly in accordance with 5X2's wishes. They could hardly believe what a difference a little chemical persuasion made. With their newfound freedom, a part of them wanted to go out and indulge in all of the fine pleasures they had missed out on for so long -- but really, they knew it would be far more prudent to go home and sleep.

They'd do that after they picked up those prescriptions, of course. They weren't going to let a simple chemical imbalance ruin their life any more.

Masterlist

It's always the weirdest things you need to get out of your system, right? I don't know where this came from, but I'm tempted to write more about this alien parasite society. Like how they acquire humans, and how other pairs are doing...

What would you do if you had a passenger of your own?

[phoenixcatch7]

Honestly I'd really like to see a mxtx3 story where wwx and xl work with Sqq to reveal sqq's true backstory and the system to lbh.

I mean, think about it!! One of the biggest problems with scum villain is how even though they get together, unlike the other couples bingqiu is still left with all these huge secrets that massively affect them both. Lbh is left believing he married his mercurial abuser, that his suffering passed some sort of indefinable test that proved him worthy of basic rights. That Sqq threw him in the abyss of his own volition. That Sqq was really sacrificing his life and not faking his death with intent to survive.

Sqq is left knowing all these things but unable to act on them, unable to tell his husband about his own past, unable to explain his actions, never able to fully let his guard down because he's supposed to be shen qingqiu. He can't even tell his own husband his original name!! If he could have, he would have, even if only in the extras!

But can you imagine???

A meeting of bingqiu, wangxian, Hualian, for whatever reason, and as the three (actual) protagonists chat and gossip and get to know each other, as they talk, Sqq is at ease enough to slip up and finds out he can talk about the system to anyone from outside pidw! Not just sqh!! Maybe not completely, but he can mention some, and the other two, concerned for their new friend, are clever enough to tease the rest out. They're horrified. Sqq is resigned but freshly hopeful.

And so begins Mission: Save Sqq's Marriage!

(Sqq would very much like to contend the title but he is out voted.)

I'd just love to see the three of them (with unquestioning aid from their husbands) get up to hijinks and face existential horrors on a quest to help bingqiu get the closure they need. And moshang too, I guess XD.

It'd also be very, very funny to have them all in the middle of the latest traumatic and/or mortifying scene look around at the other two like 'hey, aren't you supposed to be freaking out now? This is normally the part people start screaming' and the other two are like 'I mean I guess?? We've got things to do though' like kings of unflappable repression right there.

(and lbh and lwj having vinegar-offs while hc is sighing dreamily watching his husband make semi decent friends for once)

Like there's a bunch of crossovers but none really scratch that itch, you know? The main characters of all 3 mxtx?? There's so much potential for Truly Unhinged Shenanigans!! Wangxian visiting pidws wife plot filled world and disappearing into the wilderness for a full week, coming back with every single piece of clothing they brought ruined. Hualian go visit mdzs and and no one believes xl is a diety and hc chomping at the bit to kill them for the injustice. Bingqiu going to tgcf and lbh getting mistaken for a calamity, or Sqq falling into the one wife plot kidnapping or something intended for a diety.

But seriously imagine Sqq complaining about something and wwx and xl immediately going 'that's not right! You deserve better!!' and Sqq is like 'no it's fine I'm used to it' and the other two slam their fists on the table like 'no!!! If [husband] was forced to keep that kind of secret I'd hate it!! You two deserve to be properly happy!! Let us help! We can fix this!' and start working with zeal and vigor while Sqq trails along embarrassed half heartedly muttering 'it's not that bad >:/'.

And when it works (presumably some clever loophole they stumbled on) and bingqiu are tearfully kissing they share a low five without looking. Or that one meme where the person getting kissed holds their hand back and their wingman enthusiastically high fives it but there's two wingmen XD!

I don't knowww but it'd be such a good premise! Ripe for character interactions!! Fluff! Crack! Angst! Daytrips and pouring their hearts out to people who'd really understand! Xl wwx and Sqq bestie team up! Meeting moshang! Wwx info dumping about his monster index categorisation to an enthralled Sqq! Xl and Sqq bemoaning etiquette while wwx laughs at them! Xl and wwx having intense discussions about morality and righteousness! All three of them laughing at how oblivious they were about their husbands, each trying to one the other two for Dumb Moments They Should Have Realised (Sqq wins by horrifying the other two)!

Forget cross country kidnappings and being locked in a room! Where is my protagonist trio getting into trouble on a self imposed mission to help their friend! Let their magnetism for insanity shine!!

[13leaguestories]

This came randomly to me after I understood all the characters and their personalities and stuff, buuutttt, how would they react if they went through the dream Roe had at the beginning of S1? The one they told the therapist? And how would they look or respond to Roe after being told that’s what happened to them?

I’m mostly curious about the main crew like Chris, Sydero, Bradley, Rahim etc.

(Absolutely loving superstition and your writing and I’m sitting here waiting for the rewrite like a child waiting to play games with their parent)

It's chugging along, Anon. Hopefully I can share more soon.

So, Chris actually knows about the dream. As he obviously knows why Roe is going to therapy. So canon is Chris does just think it's a dream and agrees with the therapist where they always say it was just a way to explain the trauma in a more child-like manner.

Going through it, Chris wouldn't have told anybody. He'd be traumatized to hell and back but he would have kept it all to himself and tried to rationalize it away.

I'm trying to remember if Sydero knows but I think she knows the gist but not all of it. Either way, she'd probably be able to understand Roe the best since going through her own childhood trauma in Hell with "The Box." Going through it I think she'd come out like how she came out of her own ordeal, traumatized and that trauma is absorbed into her personality.

Not doing Zillah cos he knows what happened and it's kind of hard to transfer someone who knows what happened to a T into something.

Interesting enough, Rahim didn't go through childhood trauma, not in the same way as Syd and Roe so I do think if he did go through Roe's dream then he'd be different but my gosh I can't even imagine how. As he is very much a momma's boy so what would her death + the horror of it do to him. Like, would he be more Sydero coded??

If Roe told him I think he'd try and give them some bullshit excuse or some sentiment that means nothing, mostly because of the angel's hand in everything. He's not good when it hits too close too home.

Amari is a good one because she would 100% be horrified if Roe told her and she would just be speechless. I think she would be horrified of shades after that and she would definitely start asking the important questions like "do all the reaper hybrid kids go through that" and "what would have happened if it worked out like it was supposed too."

She wouldn't survive it I think. I think if Amari lost her mother the same way as Roe, she would not be anything like she is now. She would be so much more of a shell, no bubbly personality or positive outlook.

Chanara doesn't know, doesn't even have an idea of what happens for the reaper hybrids. She knows they exist and Death needs them but that's about it. So, I do think if Chanara knew she would start questioning leadership. She's a good soldier but she's not great at hiding her thoughts when she doesn't agree with something, which is why she mostly tries to mind her own business.

If she went through it I think it would be similar to Roe but mix a bit of Winchester spirit in there. Chanara wouldn't have just chalked it up to a dream and would have doubted the "true story" until she learned of the supernatural and went on a revenge journey.

And lastly, Bradley would probably be like "damn, you too." I might even try to incorporate Roe telling him because I think that at the very least the OG crew (Syd, Chris, and Bradley) should know about it. If Bradley went through it then just add shades too the list of the beings he detests. If Bradley was Roe, Zillah wouldn't have made it because Bradley would have done everything he could too flip the tables and make Zillah pay and wipe him off the face of the planet.

[sebstanaddict]

Sebastian Takes IKEA

Sebastian Stan x Reader (Unhinged One Shot)

Summary : What happens when Sebastian visits IKEA with reader? Get ready for some unhinged, chaotic adventure with Sebastian who is an adorkable, chaotic, mess of a boyfriend but who is still cute of course ;)

Warning : None, this is just a hilarious, unhinged story born out of my stressed out mind XD

Word count : 7.9k

Read more Sebastian Stan one shot here

Important: This story is not sponsored nor affiliated with IKEA at all. The IKEA brand belongs to IKEA. No copyright infringement intended.

---

It was supposed to be a simple Sunday outing—nothing too wild, just a quick trip to IKEA to grab a new bookshelf, maybe grab some plants Y/n would inevitably forget to water, and head home. But Y/n should have known better than to think anything with Sebastian Stan could ever be simple. The man had the energy of a Labrador retriever that had just discovered tennis balls, and IKEA, with its endless possibilities, was his new playground.

"Princess," he whispered dramatically, his eyes wide and sparkling like a kid on Christmas morning. "Do you smell that?"

Y/n, already regretting her life choices, sniffed half-heartedly. "Cheap particleboard and desperation?"

"No," he gasped, clutching his chest like she'd just insulted his family honor. "Swedish meatballs. We're going to the restaurant first."

"Seb, we're here for a bookshelf."

"We're here for an experience," he corrected, already dragging her toward the heavenly smell of gravy and carbs.

By the time they reached the cafeteria, Sebastian had gone full kid-in-a-candy-store mode. He grabbed a tray, then another tray, and slapped them both onto the rail with the precision of someone auditioning for The Great British Bake Off.

"What are you doing?" Y/n asked, watching in disbelief as he started piling food onto the trays like he was feeding a family of twelve.

"Fuel, Princess," he said gravely, his hands steady as he loaded not one, but two family-sized plates of meatballs onto the tray. "We have a long journey ahead."

"I can't eat that many!" Y/n protested.

"Don't worry," he said, throwing in a side of mashed potatoes and some suspicious-looking lingonberry jam. "I'll eat yours if you can't finish. It's called being a gentleman."

"That's not what being a gentleman means—"

"Do you want dessert?" He grabbed two slices of Daim cake without waiting for her answer.

"Sebastian—"

"And cinnamon rolls! Oh my God, they have cinnamon rolls." He nearly dove over the counter.

By the time they sat down, their table looked like a Scandinavian buffet gone rogue. Y/n stared at the food in horror. "There are people in line behind us, you know."

"Relax, I left them some," Sebastian said, cracking his knuckles. He picked up his fork like he was entering a championship. "Now, Princess, let's talk strategy."

"Strategy?"

"Meatball-eating contest. Loser buys the first thing we see in the maze. Ready? Go!"

Y/n barely had time to blink before Sebastian started shoveling meatballs into his mouth like his life depended on it. It was both horrifying and mesmerizing, like watching a nature documentary about a bear gorging on salmon.

"Oh my God, chew!" Y/n yelled, fork halfway to her mouth.

Sebastian, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel, held up one finger in defiance as he tried to speak. It sounded like, "Mmffh mmfhfh mmf," which Y/n assumed translated to, "I'm winning."

Then it happened.

The choke.

Sebastian froze mid-shovel, his eyes wide as he clutched his throat. For a horrifying second, Y/n thought he might actually be dying. She shot up, knocking her chair over.

"Seb, are you choking?!" she yelled, panic and exasperation flooding her voice in equal measure.

He waved her off dramatically, his face turning beet red. "I'm fine!" he wheezed, barely able to get the words out. "Just a—hiccup!"

"Hiccup?! You sound like a dying walrus!" She slapped his back hard enough to dislodge what she assumed was the offending meatball.

Sebastian erupted into a series of coughs so loud the entire restaurant turned to stare. An elderly woman at the next table gasped, clutching her pearls. A kid nearby whispered, "Is that Bucky Barnes?" to his dad, who shushed him while pulling out his phone to record.

"I'm—fine—cough—don't call 911!" Sebastian croaked between gasps, grinning like an idiot as he pounded his chest. "I just got overexcited."

"Overexcited?!" Y/n hissed, smacking him again for good measure. "You nearly died over a meatball."

"Not just any meatball," he corrected, his voice hoarse but triumphant. "A Swedish meatball."

"I'm leaving you here," she declared, grabbing her purse.

"You won't leave me," he said confidently, picking up his fork again as though nothing had happened. "You love me too much."

"Yeah, well, love has limits."

He grinned at her, his mouth full of meatball, and she groaned. "Princess," he said, still chewing, "if I go down, tell the world I died like a true Viking."

"You'll die a moron."

"And you'll miss me."

Y/n shoved one of her remaining meatballs into her mouth and rolled her eyes. "You're lucky you're cute."

"Does this mean I win?"

"You literally almost died. No, you don't win."

"Fine," he said dramatically, leaning back like he'd just fought in battle. "I'll let you have this one. But only because I'm feeling generous."

Y/n laughed despite herself. She knew this was just the warm-up. The real chaos was yet to come.

—

Once they survived the Great Meatball Incident of 2024, Y/n reluctantly allowed Sebastian to take the lead into IKEA's infamous maze. He strutted in like he was a Viking warrior entering Valhalla, with Y/n trailing behind, already bracing herself for whatever nonsense was about to unfold.

The maze stretched before them like an endless labyrinth of furniture possibilities. To Y/n, it was a practical place to pick up a bookshelf. To Sebastian, it was the ultimate playground.

"Princess," he whispered reverently, grabbing a store map like it was a treasure map. "This place... it's beautiful."

"It's just furniture, Seb."

He turned to her, scandalized. "Just furniture? This isn't just furniture, Y/n. It's a temple of design. A cathedral of self-assembly. A—oh my God, look at that couch!"

Before she could stop him, he sprinted toward a bright yellow sectional like a Labrador chasing a tennis ball.

"Sebastian, stop! You're going to get us kicked out!"

But it was too late. He flopped onto the couch dramatically, throwing his arms out wide. "It's perfect," he declared, tilting his head back like he was filming a commercial. "Imagine this in our living room. You, me, movie night. I'll make the popcorn."

Y/n crossed her arms, unimpressed. "It's five thousand dollars, and it's bright yellow. It looks like Big Bird got flattened."

Sebastian gasped like she'd insulted his ancestors. "How dare you. Big Bird wishes he could be this chic."

"Get up," she hissed, yanking him off the couch before an employee could notice.

But that was only the beginning.

—

An hour later, Y/n was sure they were lost. IKEA's maze was designed to confuse and trap, and Sebastian had taken every wrong turn possible while enthusiastically testing everything.

"Seb, I swear, if you sit in one more chair—"

"Princess, come here!" he shouted from across the showroom, cutting her off. He was perched on an egg-shaped hanging chair, swinging wildly. "This is it. This is the chair I want to die in."

"You're going to die in IKEA if you don't behave."

"Do you think they sell this in blue? It would match my eyes."

"Sebastian, it's eight hundred dollars, and we came here for a bookshelf!"

"Fine, fine." He sighed dramatically, hopping out of the chair. But not before it swung back and smacked into a display table, sending a stack of carefully placed catalogs crashing to the ground.

"SEBASTIAN!" Y/n whisper-yelled, frantically picking up the mess.

He grabbed a random catalog and held it up like evidence. "It's fine. I'll pay for it. It's not my fault they don't childproof their displays."

"You're the child!"

"I know." He grinned, unrepentant. "Let's find the bookshelf."

They eventually found their way to the storage section, where Y/n carefully measured and compared options. Meanwhile, Sebastian discovered the tiny model rooms and immediately began role-playing like a lunatic.

"Princess," he called from the corner, standing in a fake kitchen. He had a spatula in one hand and a fake orange in the other. "Welcome to Chef Sebastian's Bistro. Can I interest you in our specialty? Swedish meatballs."

Y/n didn't even look up. "You're not funny."

"Yes, I am." He grabbed a pretend pot and mimed stirring it. "I'll have dinner ready by eight. Don't forget to pick up our hypothetical kids from soccer practice."

"Seb, I'm serious, help me pick a bookshelf!"

"I AM helping," he said, plopping onto a nearby beanbag. "Emotional support is still support."

She shot him a glare so sharp it could have cut through plywood. Begrudgingly, he got up and began half-heartedly reading the product tags. "Ooh, this one's called Billy. Do we want a bookshelf with a name? Seems sketchy."

"I'm going to leave you here."

"You wouldn't dare."

She whipped around, pointing at him. "Try me."

Sebastian immediately straightened up and grabbed the first box he saw. "This one looks great! Let's get it."

"That's a TV stand."

"It holds things. Same difference."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes.

After a while Y/n found a sleek, modern shelf she liked. Sebastian, however, was drawn to a massive, overly ornate piece that looked like it belonged in a vampire castle.

"This one has character," he said, running his hand dramatically over the dark wood.

"This one has fifty shades of overkill," Y/n shot back.

"But imagine me standing in front of it, brooding like Dracula." He struck a ridiculous pose, complete with a mock cape flourish.

"Seb, we don't need Dracula energy in the apartment. We need something that won't fall apart when I stack three Harry Potters on it."

Reluctantly, he agreed to her choice, but not without pretending to sob dramatically into the yellow bag. Y/n ignored him and immediately made her way to the warehouse to pick up the flat-pack boxes with Sebastian following her reluctantly. But he soon forgot about the Dracula bookshelf as they entered the kids' section.

—-

The kids' section of IKEA was a chaotic symphony of bright colors, tiny furniture, and the occasional squeal of joy from little ones running wild. For most adults, it was a pit stop. For Sebastian Stan, it was the main event.

"Oh my God, Y/n, look at this!" Sebastian exclaimed, holding up a child-sized chair shaped like a ladybug. He plopped himself down on it, his long legs sticking out awkwardly as he wiggled back and forth. "It's so cozy! Imagine me working from home in this."

Y/n snorted, crossing her arms as she watched him. "Seb, that chair is for toddlers."

"Okay, but what if it's also for emotionally stunted adults?" he countered, giving her a cheeky grin.

"Then it's perfect for you," she quipped, walking over to a display of miniature wooden kitchens.

Sebastian was already on the move, spotting a stuffed shark that was practically as big as a small child. He grabbed it and held it up like a prized catch. "Princess, look! It's Bruce from "Finding Nemo"! We're adopting him."

"That's not Bruce," Y/n corrected with a laugh. "And we don't need another giant plushie. You already have a giant teddy bear back home."

"Bruce and Clark can bond," he said, referring to Clark, the giant teddy bear he got when they visited Harrods in London last year, clutching the shark protectively. "They'll be besties."

Y/n rolled her eyes but didn't argue. She'd learned long ago that Sebastian had a soft spot for anything ridiculous—and honestly, it was one of the things she loved about him.

"Y/n!" Sebastian exclaimed, pointing excitedly at a child-sized wooden train set on a low display table. "Look at this craftsmanship! This is... this is art!"

Before she could respond, he crouched down next to the table and grabbed the tiny train. With the fervor of a child on Christmas morning, he began pushing it around the track. "Choo-choo! Next stop: Tiny Town!"

Y/n stood over him with her arms crossed, already exhausted. "Seb, it's for kids."

"And I am thriving," he replied without missing a beat. He adjusted the tracks to send the train through a miniature tunnel. "This is an engineering marvel. Do you see this? I could do this all day."

"You can't do this all day," Y/n said, sighing. "We're supposed to be buying furniture."

"I'm multitasking!" He glanced up at her with a grin. "Look, this is a creative break. Helps the brain. You should try it."

Before she could retort, a little boy wandered over, clutching a stuffed giraffe under one arm. His eyes widened as he stared at Sebastian. "Can I play?" the boy asked softly.

Sebastian's face lit up like he'd been waiting for this exact moment. "Absolutely!" he said, handing the train over like he was bestowing an ancient treasure. "You're the new conductor. Take good care of Tiny Town."

The boy beamed, immediately engrossed in the tracks, while Sebastian crouched beside him, giving pointers. "Okay, careful on that turn—oh! Nice save. You've got skills, kid."

Y/n leaned against a nearby display, watching them. Her annoyance softened as she saw the boy giggle, his mom smiling warmly from a distance. Sebastian had this way of making everyone around him feel special, even total strangers.

When the boy's mom came to collect him, she gave Sebastian a grateful nod. "You're really good with kids."

Sebastian straightened up, puffing out his chest. "Thank you. I've been training my whole life for this."

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. "Come on, Mr. Conductor. Let's—"

"WAIT," Sebastian shouted, already sprinting toward a pirate ship-themed bunk bed. "LOOK AT THIS."

Y/n groaned. "Oh no."

Before she could stop him, he grabbed a foam sword from the display and jumped onto the upper bunk. "Ahoy, mateys! Captain Sebastian of the IKEA Seas has arrived!" He waved the sword dramatically. "Who dares challenge me for my treasure?"

Two kids, no older than seven, squealed with glee and immediately ran to grab the other foam swords. Within seconds, Sebastian was locked in an epic sword fight, ducking under the bunk bed and shouting pirate jargon like, "Ye'll never take me gold!" and "To the plank with ye, scallywags!"

More kids joined in, grabbing toy swords and pretending to attack Captain Sebastian. He played along, expertly pretending to lose balance and stumble. "Oh no! You're too strong!" he shouted as a particularly determined five-year-old jabbed him in the leg.

The scene spiraled into chaos, with at least six kids laughing and chasing him around the bunk bed while their parents stood nearby, watching with amused smiles. Y/n tried to act annoyed, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from him. Sebastian was laughing, fully immersed, his hair sticking out in all directions from being ambushed. The kids adored him, clinging to his arms, giggling uncontrollably as he let them "capture" him.

Her heart softened, warmth blooming in her chest. Despite his ridiculousness—or maybe because of it—Sebastian had this infectious joy about him. Watching him like this, surrounded by laughter and little faces full of glee, she couldn't help but imagine him one day playing with their own kids. The thought made her chest tighten in a way that was both terrifying and beautiful.

Eventually, Sebastian surrendered, dropping to the floor dramatically as the kids cheered. "You win, pirates! The treasure is yours!" He shot Y/n a cheeky grin as he lay there, surrounded by tiny conquerors. "You see this? I just made their day."

She shook her head, laughing softly. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly fun," he corrected, standing up and brushing himself off. As the kids dispersed, he grabbed her hand, still grinning. "Alright, Princess, where to next?"

But Y/n didn't answer, her gaze fixed on a quiet corner of the section where a small crib was on display. It was simple, painted white, with soft blankets folded neatly inside. A tiny stuffed bear sat in one corner, its button eyes staring up at her.

Sebastian followed her gaze, his playful demeanor softening. "Hey," he said gently, stepping closer. "You okay?"

She turned to him, biting her lip. "Do you ever think about it? About... having kids someday?"

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but only for a moment. Then, a slow, warm smile spread across his face. "All the time," he admitted.

Her breath hitched. "You do?"

"Of course." He moved closer, resting a hand on her waist. "I mean, look at me. I've been practicing for years. Foam swords, train sets, pirate invasions—I'm ready."

She let out a soft laugh, her eyes dropping to the crib. "What if... What if it's not that simple? What if it's hard, or we're not good at it?"

"Then we figure it out," he said, his voice steady. He cupped her face, tilting her chin up to meet his eyes. "Y/n, we'll be chaotic, and messy, and maybe a little clueless sometimes. But I know we'll be great. Because we'll do it together."

Her eyes watered, but she smiled. "You're really serious about this."

"About you? Always," he said. Then, with a playful smirk, he added, "Besides, I'd be an amazing dad. Imagine the bedtime stories I'd come up with. They'd be epic."

She laughed, leaning into him. "Okay, fine. You win. You'll be a great dad someday."

"And you'll be the best mom," he said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in their little bubble, the world of IKEA fading away.

Then Sebastian broke the moment by whispering, "So... can we get the crib? You know, for 'future planning.'"

"Sebastian!"

"Okay, okay! No crib. But I'm keeping Bruce."

"Fine. Now let's go. We need to get to the warehouse." Y/n said, sighing as she dragged him with her but she couldn't help a smile from escaping her lips.

—

On their way to the warehouse they had to pass the marketplace section, and that was where Y/n's patience went to die. After surviving the maze of showrooms and kids' section, she'd naively thought the hardest part was over. She was wrong. Very wrong.

It started innocently enough. She was examining a set of glass jars when she turned around and froze.

"Sebastian, what the hell is that?"

Sebastian was standing proudly next to their cart, now loaded with an alarming array of items that had nothing to do with their original mission. Among the chaos was a giant fake plant, a rainbow-colored dish drying rack, a cheese grater shaped like a hedgehog, a set of tiny spoons and a plush banana that looked vaguely horrified.

"Princess, this is all essential," he said, as if that explained anything.

"A banana plushie is essential?"

"Yes." He held it up and shook it for emphasis. "He's my emotional support banana. Look at him. His name is Kevin."

Y/n pinched the bridge of her nose. "Seb, we don't need Kevin."

"I need Kevin," he argued, dropping the banana into the cart anyway. "Bruce and Clark also need another friend in case they get into a fight with each other. And the hedgehog grater? Genius. Two of my favorite things in one."

"You don't even grate cheese."

"Because I've never had a hedgehog-shaped grater before! Do you see how this could change my life?"

Y/n stared at him, trying to figure out how this man could be so simultaneously adorable and infuriating. "What about the plant? We don't need another plant."

Sebastian gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "Princess, how dare you? Her name is Fernanda, and she brings joy. Also, she's fake, so you can't kill her like the others."

"I didn't kill them," Y/n protested, crossing her arms. "They died from natural causes."

"Uh-huh." He patted Fernanda protectively, like she might be listening.

"And the dish rack?" she asked, pointing at the rainbow monstrosity. "We already have one."

"But this one's colorful! It's like a pride flag for our dishes. Imagine how happy they'll be."

"Our dishes?"

"Yes," he said solemnly. "They've been through a lot."

Y/n sighed deeply. She was losing this battle fast. "Okay, what about the set of tiny spoons?"

Sebastian grinned and held up the box. "For tiny desserts. Duh."

"We don't even eat tiny desserts."

"Not yet. But we could." His eyes sparkled with unrestrained excitement. "Princess, picture it: late at night, me, you, Kevin the banana, sharing a tiny dessert with our tiny spoons. It's the dream."

"I think I'm getting a migraine."

Sebastian leaned in, planting a kiss on her forehead. "That's just love overwhelming you."

"No, that's you giving me an aneurysm."

"Same thing." He plucked a package of tealight candles off a nearby shelf and tossed them into the cart. "These are essential too."

Y/n pointed accusingly. "Don't you dare start with the candles."

"I'm not starting! I'm building ambiance." He added another package. "And now we have twice the ambiance."

Y/n groaned, grabbing the side of the cart as if grounding herself might prevent her from losing her mind. "Seb, our cart is full, and we still have to get the bookshelf. Please stop grabbing things."

"I promise I'm done," he said solemnly.

She narrowed her eyes. "Swear on Kevin."

Sebastian hesitated. "...I swear on half of Kevin."

"Sebastian!"

"I'm kidding! Swear on full Kevin," he said quickly, clutching the banana to his chest like a baby. "Let's get the bookshelf."

As they walked toward the next section, Sebastian paused, his eyes lighting up as he spotted a display of colorful mixing bowls. He reached for one.

"Seb, no."

"But—"

"No."

He sighed dramatically, giving her his best puppy-dog eyes. "Fine. But if I starve because I don't have a hedgehog grater and a mixing bowl, that's on you, Princess."

"You're not starving."

"I could be."

"Sebastian, we came for a bookshelf, and now our cart looks like a unicorn threw up in it."

"Yeah," he said proudly. "Isn't it beautiful?"

She stared at him, trying to stay mad, but his goofy grin and unrelenting enthusiasm made it impossible. "You're impossible."

"And yet," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek, "you love me."

Y/n sighed, laughing despite herself. "Unfortunately for me, I do."

Sebastian grinned, holding Kevin the banana up between them. "See, Kevin knew we'd all come around eventually."

Y/n shook her head, wondering how she'd ended up here. But as frustrating as Sebastian was, she couldn't imagine IKEA—or life—without him. Even if it did mean sharing her apartment with a plush banana, a plush shark and a fake plant named Fernanda.

—

After managing to get to the end of the marketplace section without Sebastian grabbing anything else, they finally arrived at the warehouse section. The warehouse section of IKEA was supposed to be straightforward. You find the aisle, grab your flat-pack box, and move on with your life. But Y/n should've known better. With Sebastian, nothing was ever straightforward.

They arrived at Aisle 32, Bay 4, where the shelf Y/n picked—a plain white, functional bookshelf she'd selected after enduring his dramatic antics in the marketplace—was waiting.

Except it wasn't waiting at ground level.

"Oh, great," Y/n muttered, looking up at the towering rack. The box was perched on the topmost shelf, taunting her like a smug, flat-packed cloud. "Of course it's up there."

Sebastian tilted his head, studying the rack like it was Mount Everest. "That's not a problem. I've got this."

"No, Seb. No you don't."

"Princess, relax," he said, cracking his knuckles. "I've scaled rock walls. This is nothing."

"This isn't a rock wall! It's a storage rack full of furniture boxes! Just ask an employee for help."

Sebastian scoffed, looking personally offended. "Ask for help? Y/n, I am the help."

Before she could stop him, he grabbed the edge of the rack and started climbing.

"Sebastian Stan, get down right now!" she hissed, her voice a mix of panic and exasperation.

"I'm fine!" he called, already halfway up. "I've done my own stunts! This is child's play."

"This is how you die in IKEA!"

Ignoring her protests, Sebastian continued his ascent, grabbing onto a lower rack, then hoisting himself up to the next. His face was set in determination, like he was reenacting a scene from an action movie. Unfortunately, the rack didn't share his enthusiasm and creaked ominously under his weight.

"Seb, I swear, if you break your neck—"

"Relax, Princess. It's stable!" he said confidently, just as the shelf he was holding onto wobbled slightly.

Y/n slapped a hand to her forehead. "This is going to be my 911 call. 'Yes, officer, my boyfriend climbed an IKEA shelf and is now trapped under three boxes of particleboard furniture.'"

"Stop worrying!" he said, reaching the top. "I see it! I've got it!"

He grabbed the flat-pack box, struggling to slide it off the shelf. The problem was, the box was heavier than he expected, and Sebastian, in his infinite wisdom, hadn't thought this through. As he yanked at the box, it tipped precariously, throwing him off balance.

"Uh, Princess?" he called, a distinct edge of panic in his voice. "It's fine, but, uh—can you spot me?"

"Spot you?! You're fifteen feet in the air!" Y/n yelled, her heart practically leaping out of her chest. "I told you to wait for help!"

Sebastian tried to maneuver the box, but his grip slipped, and the entire rack swayed.

"Sebastian!" Y/n screamed as he teetered dramatically, clinging to the shelf like a scared cat. "Hold on!"

"I'm fine! I'm—whoa!" He lost his footing, and for a moment, she thought he was going to fall. By some miracle, he managed to grab the edge of the rack with one hand, dangling like a very poorly coordinated action hero.

"Get down!" Y/n shouted, torn between fury and terror. "I swear to God, Sebastian, if you die before you assemble this stupid bookshelf—"

"Never fear!" he interrupted, trying to sound calm despite the fact that his legs were flailing wildly. "I've got this under control."

"You are literally dangling, Seb!"

With one final burst of effort, he swung himself back onto the rack, grabbing the flat-pack box and awkwardly lowering it to a slightly safer position. Then, slowly and ungracefully, he climbed back down, landing on the floor with an exaggerated flourish.

He grinned, holding up the box triumphantly. "Ta-da!"

Y/n stared at him, her face a mixture of disbelief and rage. "You absolute idiot."

"But look, Princess!" He gestured at the box like it was a trophy. "Mission accomplished."

"Mission almost ended with me calling an ambulance!" She marched up to him, poking him hard in the chest. "Why couldn't you just ask for help? Why do you have to make everything a stunt?"

Sebastian pouted, clearly unrepentant. "I wanted to impress you."

"Impress me? Seb, I'm impressed when you remember to put the toilet seat down. You don't have to risk your life for a bookshelf!"

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, still grinning like he hadn't just given her a heart attack. "Admit it, though. You were impressed by my skills."

"I'm about to be impressed by how fast you can carry this box to the cart," she snapped, pointing to the flat-pack. "Go."

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a mock salute, hoisting the box and striding toward the cart. He turned back, winking at her. "But admit it. You love me for my adventurous spirit."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help laughing. "I love you despite your adventurous spirit, you lunatic."

Sebastian grinned, blowing her a kiss. "Same thing, Princess."

As he loaded the box onto the cart, Y/n silently vowed to never, ever bring him to IKEA again. At least not without signing him up for a babysitter first.

—

The checkout line was supposed to be the final hurdle—the finish line where Y/n could finally regain control of their chaotic shopping spree. The cart was already overflowing with unnecessary treasures, and she'd made Sebastian swear, on Kevin the emotional support banana, not to grab anything else.

But this was Sebastian Stan, and promises were apparently more like suggestions.

"Princess, stay with the cart," he said suddenly, a suspicious glint in his eye.

Y/n narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

"Uh... I just realized we don't have... batteries." He didn't even wait for her response before darting toward a nearby shelf stacked with random last-minute impulse buys.

"Sebastian, no! We don't need batteries!" she called after him, but he was already out of earshot, disappearing into the chaos of the IKEA checkout area like a rogue spy on a mission.

Y/n sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She could feel the cashier's pitying stare as she pushed the overstuffed cart forward. Fernanda the fake plant was half-falling out, Kevin's plush banana face looked permanently distressed as it faced Bruce the shark and the rainbow dish rack was perched precariously on top like a crown.

The cashier scanned the first item—a set of tealight candles. "Having a good day?"

Y/n forced a tight smile. "Define 'good.'"

Before the cashier could respond, Sebastian reappeared, and Y/n's stomach dropped. His arms were full—full—of completely random items. A three-pack of giant chocolate bars. A fuzzy gray throw pillow shaped like a cloud. A box of LED fairy lights. And, inexplicably, a pack of child-sized aprons.

"Sebastian, what are you doing?" Y/n hissed, mortified as he dumped the pile onto the conveyor belt.

"Saving our future!" he declared dramatically, gesturing to the items as if they were a presentation board. "Look, the chocolate is essential for emergencies—what if we get snowed in? The fairy lights will add mood lighting to Fernanda's corner. And the aprons? Cooking together is romantic, Princess. Tiny aprons are adorable."

"We don't have kids!" she whisper-yelled, shoving the aprons to the side.

"Not yet," he said with a wink. "But we might want aprons someday."

Y/n groaned, grabbing the throw pillow. "And this? What's this supposed to be for?"

Sebastian gasped, clutching his chest like she'd just insulted his entire family. "Princess, this is Cloudy. He's Kevin's best friend."

"I'm not adopting another object, Sebastian!"

"You can't separate them," he said gravely, his voice full of mock heartbreak. "Look at Kevin. He's begging you."

Y/n glanced at Kevin the banana, whose stitched-on face did indeed look distressed, and let out a deep, soul-cleansing sigh. "Fine. But nothing else, do you hear me?"

Sebastian nodded, holding up three fingers like a Boy Scout. "Scout's honor."

The cashier, trying and failing to suppress laughter, scanned the new additions. "You two are quite the team."

"Oh, we're a team, all right," Y/n muttered, watching as Sebastian's eyes drifted toward a nearby bin of assorted impulse buys.

"No," she said firmly, catching him before he could move.

"But—"

"No. Don't even think about it."

"I was just—"

"Sebastian, I will leave you here. Alone. With no Kevin."

That seemed to work. Sebastian stayed put, though he did pout dramatically as the cashier finished scanning the last item. When the total came up on the screen, Y/n felt her jaw drop.

"Seb, this is twice what we budgeted!" she hissed.

"Twice the budget, twice the fun," he replied, pulling out his wallet and handing over his card like a man who had absolutely no regrets.

As they loaded up the cart, Y/n leaned over, glaring at him. "When we get home, you are putting all this together. Every single piece."

Sebastian grinned, tossing Kevin into the cart like a basketball. "Oh, Princess. You know I thrive under pressure."

Y/n didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or strangle him, so she settled for grabbing the receipt and muttering under her breath, "This isn't over."

With the receipt finally in hand, Y/n thought the nightmare was over. The cart was loaded with a precarious mountain of flat-pack furniture, random unnecessary knick-knacks, and, of course, Kevin the emotional support banana and Bruce the shark perched like kings on top. The exit was just within reach.

That's when Sebastian stopped dead in his tracks.

"Princess," he whispered, his eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. He pointed dramatically to the ice cream cone machine by the snack counter. "Look. Soft serve. We need it."

Y/n sighed, already regretting the day she agreed to this IKEA trip. "Seb, we don't need soft serve. We need to get this stuff into the car and go home."

"But it's only a dollar!" he protested, clutching her arm as if she might physically drag him away. "One single, beautiful, glorious dollar for a cone of happiness."

"You just ate 37 meatballs," she reminded him flatly.

"Princess, those were in a different category. This is dessert. It's like the epilogue of the meal. You can't skip the epilogue!"

Before she could respond, he was already steering their cart toward the snack counter like a man on a mission. Y/n trailed behind, muttering under her breath about impulsive boyfriends and their never-ending appetite.

Sebastian reached the counter, all wide-eyed excitement. "One ice cream cone, please," he announced to the cashier, then turned to Y/n with a satisfied grin. "See? Simple. Just one."

She crossed her arms. "You say that now, but—"

"Wait," he interrupted, spotting the shelf next to the register. His eyes zeroed in on a display of cinnamon buns, chocolate bars, and IKEA-branded cookies. "Whoa. What's that?"

"Sebastian, don't."

"I mean, we just have to get these cinnamon buns to bring home," he said, grabbing a six-pack and plopping it on the counter. "For breakfast tomorrow. And these chocolate bars? These are emergency rations."

"Emergency rations for what?" Y/n asked, exasperated.

"You never know, Princess. What if the apocalypse happens tonight, and we're sitting on our new bookshelf, wishing we had chocolate?"

"Apocalypse or not, you're going to eat all of it in the car."

"That's slanderous," he said, feigning offense. Then he added two packs of cookies to the growing pile. "Also, these are for Kevin, Bruce and Clark."

"They are plushies! They don't eat!"

"Not with that attitude," he muttered, handing his credit card to the cashier before Y/n could argue further.

The cashier, barely holding back laughter, processed the order and handed him the coin for the ice cream machine. "Just insert this into the machine, and it'll dispense the ice cream."

Sebastian held the coin up like it was the One Ring. "Wait a second. I get to activate the ice cream machine?"

The cashier blinked, unsure if he was joking. "Uh... yes?"

Sebastian turned to Y/n, his eyes wide. "Do you understand the power I hold right now?"

"It's literally a coin for a soft-serve machine, Seb," Y/n deadpanned.

"Not just a coin, Princess. This is the key to happiness," he said dramatically. Then, clutching it like it was precious cargo, he marched toward the machine. "Step back, everyone! Ice cream is about to happen."

Y/n sighed. "Seb, please just get the ice cream before someone calls security."

"I shall not rush the ritual!" he declared, raising the coin like it was Simba being presented to the Pride Lands.

He strode to the machine with the swagger of a man on a mission, clearing his throat dramatically. "And now, ladies and gentlemen," he announced to no one in particular, "a masterpiece in dairy engineering shall come to life before your very eyes!"

"Sebastian..." Y/n warned, already cringing as a family with two toddlers gave him side-eye.

"Hush, Princess," he said, waving her off as if he were royalty. "I must focus."

He inserted the token with theatrical precision, pausing for effect before stepping back as the machine whirred to life. The sound was nothing special, but Sebastian's face lit up like he was hearing a choir of angels.

"It's happening!" he cried, grabbing the cone and carefully placing it under the nozzle. "The soft-serve gods have blessed me!"

The ice cream began to swirl, and Sebastian guided it with the concentration of a neurosurgeon. "Look at that texture. That symmetry. It's... it's beautiful."

The swirl grew taller, and he crouched slightly, angling his head for a better look. "Should I stop it here? No, no. Go big or go home."

By the time the cone was fully loaded—teetering dangerously under the weight of his ambition—he stepped back, holding it high. "Behold! The perfect cone! A triumph of man and machine!"

Y/n crossed her arms, staring at him. "It's just ice cream, Seb."

"It's not just ice cream," he said, taking a triumphant lick. "It's a symbol of achievement. It's art. It's—"

Before he could finish, the precarious swirl tilted forward, wobbling. His eyes widened in panic. "Oh no—structural failure!"

Y/n stifled a laugh as he scrambled to right the cone, awkwardly licking the sides to prevent catastrophe.

"Crisis averted!" he announced proudly, his face now smudged with vanilla. "I saved it. I am a hero."

"You're a mess," Y/n said, shaking her head, but she couldn't hide her smile as she handed him a napkin.

"And yet," he said, grinning as he took another massive lick, "I've never been happier."

"This was supposed to be a quick stop," she said as they finally walked toward the exit.

"Quick stops don't bring joy," he replied, licking his ice cream. "This? This is pure joy."

"It's pure chaos," she muttered, shoving the cart forward. "I don't know why I let you out in public."

"You love it," he said around a mouthful of ice cream. Then he held up the cinnamon buns. "And tomorrow, when you wake up to warm, gooey breakfast happiness, you'll thank me."

"Warm? You don't even know where the microwave is half the time."

"I'll figure it out," he said confidently, taking another lick of ice cream. "I'm a man of many talents."

Y/n shot him a look but couldn't help the tiny smile tugging at her lips. As much as he drove her crazy, she knew Sebastian's chaotic charm was part of the package.

"Fine," she said with a sigh. "But you are carrying all the snacks to the car."

Sebastian grinned. "Deal. Now, let's get home before the apocalypse starts. I have chocolate to protect."

—

By the time they got home, Y/n was already exhausted, and the real work hadn't even begun. She stood in their living room, glaring at the flat-pack box of the bookshelf she'd chosen—a plain, functional piece that had seemed like a good idea in the showroom. Now, it just felt like a cruel prank.

Sebastian, on the other hand, was full of energy, fueled by ice cream, the thrill of the snacks he'd stuffed into their kitchen, and the sheer confidence of a man who had no idea what he was doing.

"Okay, Princess," he said, clapping his hands together. "Let's build this baby."

"Seb, maybe we should just wait until tomorrow," Y/n said, eyeing the box warily. "We've been through enough today."

"What? No way!" he replied, already ripping into the cardboard like a bear raiding a picnic. "This is the grand finale! The cherry on top! The...uh..." He frowned, pulling out a piece of wood and squinting at it. "What part is this?"

"That's a shelf," Y/n said flatly.

"Right. Of course. I knew that."

Y/n sighed and grabbed the instruction manual. She flipped it open, only to find a series of cryptic diagrams that looked more like hieroglyphics than instructions. "Oh, great. No words, just pictures."

"Pictures are better!" Sebastian said, already digging through the screws and bolts. "I'm a visual learner."

"You're a chaos learner," Y/n muttered, sitting on the floor next to him. "Okay, step one: separate all the pieces and make sure we have everything."

Sebastian immediately ignored her and started stacking wooden panels into a precarious tower. "Check it out! It's like Jenga, but Swedish."

"Sebastian, stop—"

The tower toppled over with a loud crash, scattering panels everywhere.

"Oops," he said, giving her an innocent grin. "No biggie. Let's keep going!"

Y/n groaned and picked up the instruction manual again. "Fine. Step two: attach the side panels to the base."

"Got it!" Sebastian said enthusiastically, grabbing the nearest panel and slapping it onto the base. He fumbled with a handful of screws, then grabbed the Allen wrench. "This thing is so tiny. It's like IKEA doesn't trust us with real tools."

"They shouldn't," Y/n muttered, watching as he jammed the wrench into a screw and started turning it the wrong way. "Seb, you're stripping the screw."

"No, I'm not! It's just...stubborn."

"Give me that," she said, taking the wrench from him. "You're going to ruin it before we even get started."

"Fine," he said, crossing his arms like a pouting child. "You do the boring stuff, and I'll do the creative parts."

"There are no creative parts! It's a bookshelf, not a craft project."

Sebastian ignored her and picked up two random wooden dowels. "Look! Drumsticks!" He started drumming on the panels, humming the intro to We Will Rock You.

"Sebastian!" Y/n snapped, snatching the dowels out of his hands. "Focus!"

"Okay, okay," he said, grabbing the manual. He studied it for a moment, then frowned. "Wait. Where's this little blob guy? He's pointing at something."

"That's not a blob guy; that's a hand," Y/n said, exasperated. "And it's showing you where to put the screw."

"Right. Got it. Blob-hand wants a screw here," he said, completely misinterpreting the diagram and attaching a panel backward.

"Sebastian!" Y/n shouted, waving her arms. "That's upside down!"

"No, it's modern. Like an abstract art bookshelf."

"It's wrong!"

"Or maybe it's right in a way no one else has ever thought of," he countered, winking at her.

Y/n grabbed the panel and yanked it off. "I swear, if you don't start taking this seriously—"

"Relax, Princess. This is fun!" he said, picking up a small bag of screws. He paused, looking concerned. "Wait...what are these tiny ones for? Did we get extra screws? Are these bonus screws? Is IKEA giving us a scavenger hunt?"

"They're not bonus screws!" Y/n shouted. "They're essential. And stop opening random bags!"

But it was too late. Sebastian had already torn into another bag, spilling washers and dowels across the floor. One dowel rolled under the couch, and Sebastian dropped to his stomach, crawling after it.

"Got it!" he announced triumphantly, holding up the dowel like a trophy.

"You're impossible," Y/n muttered, shaking her head.

"Impossible, or unstoppable?" he asked, grinning as he plopped back down beside her.

"Both."

After what felt like hours, the bookshelf finally started to resemble something functional. Y/n was sweaty, frustrated, and convinced she'd aged five years. Sebastian, on the other hand, looked as proud as if he'd built the Eiffel Tower from scratch.

"Ta-da!" he said, stepping back and admiring their work. "Look at that. We crushed it."

Y/n squinted at the bookshelf. It was leaning slightly to the left, and one shelf was installed upside down, but she was too tired to care. "It's...fine."

"Fine?" Sebastian gasped, offended. "It's a masterpiece."

"It's crooked."

"It has character."

Y/n gave him a tired smile, too exhausted to argue. "Okay, fine. It has character."

Sebastian grinned and wrapped an arm around her. "See? Teamwork makes the dream work."

"Teamwork nearly made me murder you."

"Tomato, tomahto," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Admit it, Princess. You couldn't do this without me."

Y/n looked at the leaning bookshelf, the mess of screws on the floor, Kevin the banana and Bruce the shark perched on a random shelf. She sighed. "You're right. No one else could've made this much of a disaster."

Sebastian laughed, pulling her closer. "And that's why you love me."

She rolled her eyes but leaned into him anyway. "Unfortunately for me, yeah. I do."

As they stood in the middle of the chaotic mess—Y/n rubbed her temples and sighed deeply. The leaning bookshelf stared back at her like it was mocking her existence.

Sebastian watched her, his grin fading into something softer. He knew he'd been a tornado of chaos today, and she'd been the one who kept them grounded, even if she had threatened to murder him a few times. She deserved something better than this disaster of a day.

"Alright, Princess," he said suddenly. "You've officially done your time in IKEA hell. Sit down."

"What? Seb, there's still a mess—"

"Sit down." His tone was uncharacteristically firm, though his eyes twinkled with something mischievous. He gently guided her to the couch and plopped her down. "Now, stay."

She raised an eyebrow at him but was too tired to argue. "What are you up to?"

"You'll see." He winked and bounded into the kitchen, rummaging around loudly.

Y/n leaned back, watching him from the couch. A small part of her was bracing for another ridiculous stunt, but then she smelled something warm and sweet. Her stomach rumbled as Sebastian emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray. On it were two plates of slightly warmed IKEA cinnamon buns, a bar of IKEA milk chocolate broken into chunks, and two IKEA-branded sparkling waters.

He set the tray down on the coffee table like he was presenting a feast fit for royalty. "Your Highness," he said dramatically, bowing low. "Dinner is served."

She blinked, staring at the tray, then back at him. "This...is dinner?"

"Only the finest," he said, sitting beside her and grabbing a cinnamon bun. "After all, we're sophisticated people who dine exclusively on imported Swedish delicacies."

She couldn't help it—a laugh bubbled up, light and unexpected. She tried to suppress it, but then he gave her that goofy grin, and the absurdity of the entire day hit her all at once. Before she knew it, she was laughing so hard she had to wipe tears from her eyes.

"Sebastian!" she gasped between giggles. "This is not how normal people recover from a stressful day."

"Normal is boring," he said, smiling softly at her. "And I kind of love that I made you laugh after everything I put you through. You deserve it."

Her laughter softened into a warm smile. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"Ridiculous but charming," he said, nudging her shoulder. "And you love me for it."

"I do," she admitted, picking up a cinnamon bun. "Even though you nearly killed yourself twice, choking on meatballs and climbing an IKEA shelf as well as turned our living room into a disaster zone."

"That's just me keeping things interesting, Princess," he said, leaning over to kiss her cheek. "But I promise I'll clean up the mess tomorrow. Tonight is about you."

Y/n looked at him, her heart softening. He might've been an absolute whirlwind, but he always had a way of making her feel like the center of his universe, even in their most chaotic moments.

"Okay," she said, taking a bite of the cinnamon bun. "I'll accept this dinner of 'imported delicacies.' But only if you promise to never climb anything in IKEA again."

He raised his hand solemnly. "Scout's honor."

They sat there, munching on cinnamon buns and chocolate, laughing about the events of the day. The leaning bookshelf stood in the corner, still a testament to their mismatched teamwork, but Y/n didn't care anymore.

It wasn't perfect, but neither were they—and that was okay. Because at the end of the day, Sebastian always found a way to make her laugh. And that was enough.

[whateverthedragonswant]

Rewatching 8x05 for writing reasons, which is just a brilliant episode, despite any reasons some might have to hate it, valid or invalid. Miguel Sapochnik is directing and you see his talent and epicness in every shot (that man deserves a freaking Emmy already, I said what I said) but also there are so many things being shown here that if you muted the episode after Daenerys makes her decision, during the battle scene, you would be able to tell exactly what each character is thinking and what's really going on in the story besides the surface action.

Which brings me to that one scene that a lot of people said the woman being attacked as a stand-in for Sansa in the episode for Jon. They are correct and here's how.

Jon is walking through the melee, only coming to life to defend himself when Lannister soldiers are trying to attack him. The Northerners aren't listening to him, they're attacking innocent civilians, Grey Worm is on a killing spree, Davos is trying to help people get away from the bloodshed, Dany is burning the city, Tyrion is off somewhere horrified, Cersei is watching in terror from the Red Keep... But during this scene, the sound is muted to a point where the sounds of battle happening all around Jon sound very far away. We're now seeing what Jon sees, we're in his shock fugue with him. We see on his left civilians, namely women, being brutalized by soldiers -> he keeps walking. We on his right a woman being knocked down to the ground while a child is watching in horror, blood spatter and bodies all around her (and obviously traumatized & also in danger herself since no one is left to protect her) -> he keeps walking. He then sees a Lanniser soldier telling people to run, something his soldiers should be doing (and something he himself should be doing like Davos) but he's not. While the sounds are still muted, Jon notices another Lannister soldier about to rush him and he goes into autopilot & fights the soldier off. He then looks around in horror.

This is not what he signed up for and he almost looks lost, like he doesn't know what to do. Then the sound comes back fully and he hears a scream. In all of the melee, chaos, and death around him, he hears this one woman above the rest and turns to see her being dragged into an alley to presumably be assaulted by one of his own men.

Sure enough, she's about to be and she is trying to crawl away when the man catches her again. Jon ends up saving her, threatening to run his sword through the man. When the latter tries to fight him off to go back to assault this woman, Jon kills him and tells the woman to hide.

So how is this woman standing in for Sansa besides the obvious?

Two ways.

1) Ramsay was the former Warden of the North, the former bastard of Roose Bolton who was a Northerner who "served" Robb Stark, the first King in the North, before betraying him to the Lannisters. The soldier Jon faces off with is a Northerner and is supposed to be under Jon's command as Warden of the North and the former second King in the North.

2) Sansa is who stirs Jon into action when he feels lost.

Every.

Time.

And the parallels between the gif above with Dany and the dagger to the Northern soldier that had Jon's sword run through him, and Jon's staring almost sadly at the man, realizing he had to kill one of his own are far from being coincidental.

Not only was this a precursor to what would occur in 8x06 (and why Jon would make the decision he did) but it also is symbolic of the dynamic between Jon and Sansa as a whole. She's the one who stirs him into action, no matter how terrified or traumatized or angry he might be in that moment (like the shock fugue). No matter how lost he might feel. She gives him direction and dare I say a purpose when he has none (after his death; after the WW are defeated & Dany has gone into tyrant mode).

No wonder we weren't allowed to see Sansa's (or Arya's) reaction to the news of his being a Targaryen.

No wonder Jon told Melisandre not to bring him back if he lost the Battle of the Bastards (after Sansa told him if he lost, she wouldn't be going back to Ramsay alive).

No wonder Jon was not happy with Sansa on the dock in 8x06.

She's always stirred him into action when he doesn't want to be or know how to do it himself (after his death).

He passed a woman he could have saved.

He passed a child he could have helped.

He saw someone on the other side helping and doing the right thing.

The only time he steps in to help someone else is the woman about to be assaulted.

(x) "You are the shield that guards the realms of men. You've always tried to do the right thing. No matter the cost. You've tried to protect people. Who's the greatest threat to the people now?" (no reaction)

"Do you think I'm the last man she'll execute? Who is more dangerous than the rightful heir to the Iron Throne?" (no reaction)

"And your sisters? Do you see them bending the knee?" (a little bit of a reaction)

"Why do you think Sansa told me the truth about you? Because she doesn't want Dany to be queen." (more of a reaction)

"No, but you do. And you have to choose now." (he hesitatingly goes to confront Dany and then 🗡️)

It's not just about her being his "sister" or because she's Lady Stark or family or because they were the last two Starks once upon a time. She literally stirs him into action and gives him purpose. Her pushing to go back to Winterfell led to him caring about the WW invasion again. Her being the one he chooses to protect ended a tyrant and changed history, leading for her to become the first Queen in the North and regain Northern Independence, where she can be forever safe.

It was always Sansa for him, starting in 6x04.

[lakesbian]

it's the moment like 4 of you have been waiting for:

i finally rotated pact creature design in my brain enough to post about it. to all the people who sent me asks wanting to hear my thoughts explaining Why Pact Creatures Are So Good this ones for you.

the core of pact's monster design boils down to one very good fact about pact's worldbuilding: in the world of pact, the universe canonically loves a good story. magic literally runs on themes and ideas. subsequently, strong themes aren't the end result of pact's monster design so much as they are the most fundamental aspect of it--meaningful themes and narratives are such a textually important part of how pact monsters work that one bogeyman outright tries to start a conversation with blake by, upon noticing the birdhouse in his soul (tm), asking if birds are important to him.

what really seals the deal on this being fascinating is that pact monsters aren't invented wholesale--a lot of the book hinges on offering its own explanations for preexisting folklore or urban legend. pact takes a variety of common threads in the way cultural myths & monsters are presented, picks out the conceptions with compelling implications, and distills them into one design so thematically coherent and clarifying that it makes you go "ohhh, why aren't All ghosts/dragons/fae like this? this is Exactly What They're Supposed To Be."

like, we all know that ghosts are dead people, and oftentimes the appearance and/or behavior they're written as having is either implicitly or explicitly based on reenactments of their past life/how they died, and sometimes they're depicted as lucid but more often than not they're depicted more like broken or warped remnants of a person, and sometimes they make things colder/give off Bad Emotional Vibes/etc. those are generally true assertions about how ghosts are often culturally presented.

pact takes that and explicitly declares that ghosts are what happens when something so bad happens that an imprint of the resultant misery is left on the fabric of the universe. some ghosts appear horrifying because their appearance is warped and exaggerated beyond what's realistically possible to match how awful whatever happened to them felt. some ghosts are more lucid because their imprint is more recent, or has been strengthened and fed by human attention instead of left to decay. some ghosts are less lucid because they were forgotten. when ghosts make the atmosphere feel awful to be in, that's because the ghost isn't just the imprint of the person, it's an imprint of the awful thing itself. incredibly interesting! it feels so very much like the absolute heart of what ghost stories are about--about the grief and horror of being impacted by the ever-present echo of something terrible, about something so viscerally wretched happening that reality itself cannot forget it, about the emotionally powerful interactions between someone still-living and the memory of someone already long gone.

(pact also gives an aside that, in very rare scenarios, neutral or arguably even positive occasions which leave a sufficiently strong enough impression can also become ghosts. genuinely fascinating expansion.)

& the thing here is that pact does this for creatures like ghosts that are already richly thematic and iconic, but it Also does it for creatures with less obvious theming. how do dragons work? what's pact's underlying explanation for their position as immortal, powerful, regal, fire-breathing* fantasy monsters?

*&, depending on the media, sometimes ice-breathing or poisonous or whatever else

well, you see, dragons are recursive loops. "dragons are recursive loops" is perhaps one of the Top All Time sentences in the entire book, and the delightful thing is that, in addition to sounding excellent, it makes sense.

that's how they generate and spit out so much of whatever their element is. they're snarls. they're ouroboroses. they're something feeding into itself, self-sustaining for thousands of years, drowning anything which threatens it in torrents of whatever the self-feeding element is--fire, sometimes, but it could be poison, or ice, or whatever else, and that's why you've probably heard of ice dragons in addition to classic fire dragons. Dragons Are Recursive Loops. recursiveness is, after all, a form of immortality.

or, like, fae? we all know that faeries are incomprehensibly old/outright immortal Tricky Little Bitches who like to manipulate people while posing in an inhumanly/horrifically beautiful fashion and going "teehee." pact takes that to a fantastically surreal level of extreme artifice, one that's almost grotesque in its dreamlike nature--they have all lived for so very long that, to them, boredom is worse than death, and so they have complicated social games spanning centuries, and speak in the most practiced of misleading wordplay, and perfectly curate their forests so that even the smallest pebble is an intentionally-chosen setpiece for their play. they graduated from handjobs a couple dozens of millennia ago--now they're more into erotic-poetic descriptions of full-body degloving. you will not notice when a faerie steals and replaces your child, because you are very young and stupid compared to them, and playing-pretend at being your child is only the briefest of trifles in their unfathomably long lifespan.

the other good bit is that pact explicitly acknowledges that faeries run on what is colloquially deemed Bullshit--the universe likes a good story, and faeries have gotten very good at telling it a moving story. if a faerie tells a good enough story about having a sword that breaks the laws of physics, then that is what their sword will do. and so the way to combat faeries is not to out-bullshit them--because no one is out-bullshitting a being with thousands of years of bullshitting practice--but to say "no, that's fucking stupid and made up" until their implausibly long sword acts like a sword of that size actually should and shatters on the spot.

& all of these writing decisions feel so naturally truthful to what these creatures are Supposed to be--they're really not wholly new takes, they're a presentation of preexisting ideas in a way that gets why those ideas appeal to people and goes full-throttle on all the most thematically rich or otherwise narratively interesting parts. It's Good Writing. I Like It. you could spend an entire essay breaking down the presentation of literally any single one of pact's creatures, it's that compelling in its reflection and organization of Ideas About Creatures.

[some-pers0n]

Memoir of an Albatross

Chapter 1 - The Legacy of a Monster

[1] [2] [3] [4]

(Art by Loquatic)

Chapter Description: Turtle and the Jade Winglet have decided to spend a night at the long forgotten Island Palace. Turtle is petrified. This is where Albatross, the mass murdering animus, had killed dozens. But, late into the night, he spots something strange.

The Island Palace was quite possibly the last place Turtle wanted to visit. Why would he? It remains as a scar on Pyrrhia, a reminder of the dangerous potential of animus magic. A stain on the Sea Kingdom's history of what happens when animus magic goes unchecked.

Albatross was not a dragon Fathom wanted to be. A mad dragon. A terrifying murderer. An animus who could not control his own magic. Simply thinking about him made his stomach churn. Knowing that it was a possibility he could end up like Albatross horrified him. He would be better than that monster.

So, hearing that the Jade Winglet wanted to spend a night at the Island Palace was definitely something he was not interested in doing. 

Unfortunately, Qibli and Kinkajou were firm in their decision to do just that.

"Oh come on," Qibli said, "it's only one night!"

"We shouldn't...be here," Turtle mumbled. "Isn't this disrespectful? I mean, we are just going to run around in a place where so...so many dragons lost their lives."

"And? It's not like they're alive to see it. They've been dead for a long, long, LONG time," Kinkajou called out. "Who cares? It's going to be fun! Trust us."

"It's supposed to be scary anyway. It's Faust's Hallow. Wouldn't it be a little fun to spend it at some creepy old palace? We rarely get together nowadays, and besides, didn't Queen Coral give us permission for this? Turtle, this is our one chance!"

Turtle reluctantly looked at her, sighing. "If you say so..."

He was never fond of Faust's Hallow. It was a biannual "celebration" of one of the forgotten brother of Imperial, Oracle, and Perception. As the NightWing legend goes, while the other dragons ascended into the night sky to become the moons, Faust remained. He was tied to the world with his earthly connections. Thus, becoming the first-ever spirit. It was the basis for SandWing spirituality, so to say that Qibli was interested in it was most definitely an understatement.

Turtle on the other talon? Well, all he could think about was death and horror. His older brothers took joy in dressing up as ghosts and scaring the living daylights out of the younger ones. Not to also mention the constant imagery of skeletons and mourning, with Coral always having a memorial for her lost daughters.

Then, of course, Albatross himself. The reason they were coming here. A legend was that Albatross's spirit had never passed on. That his soul remained at the Island Palace, restless and still just as mad as the day he died. There had been stories of overly curious and confident dragonets running home after an encounter with Albatross at the Island Palace. But, those were just silly rumours. Little myths. That's what it is, certainly. 

Albatross wasn't there. How could he be? Well, the story of Faust was based on him wandering the continent for eternity. Perhaps, maybe- no. It's a made-up story. Turtle wasn't going to fall for some sort of story his brothers would tell to scare him. He already had enough sleepless nights, filled with anxiety and worry over the concept of Albatross still being around.

He's not. He's dead. This was just going to be a nice, if a bit restless, night out in the ruins of the abandoned Island Palace. He will not be scared.

They touched down on the beach around it. If Turtle remembered correctly, this was the Sunrise Beach. It was empty, completely devoid of any sort of life. The palace in front of them was crumbling and tattered. The lavish white walls were discoloured and washed out from weathering an impossible amount of storms. It was covered in moss and sea flora, with barnacles growing on the base of the palace. The light of the setting sun basked the palace in an ominous glow of oranges and purples.

A deep, horrible feeling persisted within Turtle. It made him aware of the light sensation in his claws. The tiny burning from within. Only a little ways away, tragedy had taken place. Two thousand years ago, Albatross, his great-grandfather, slaughtered twenty dragons. He carries the same power he does. Even right now, he could kill all of his friends. One stray thought and who knows what would happen.

"Well, don't just stand there!" Kinkajou bounced ahead. "We've got a whole palace to explore! I call looking on the upper floors with Moon!"

"Wh- me? Uh...okay then?" She stepped forward, following after her. "See you, I guess?" She waved to Qibli and Turtle before disappearing off into the courtyard.

"So, that just leaves me and you." Qibli rested his wing on Turtle, pulling him closer.

"Hurray..."

"Where you wanna go? If they're going up, let's check out the ground floor. Gardens. See some cool old statues that've been crumbling from age."

"What fun..."

Qibli frowned. "Hey, look. I know you're a bit freaked out. You didn't really want to come here. I'm sorry for dragging you along. But, I promise it'll be fun! There's nothing here to hurt any of us. Even if Albatross is still floating around somewhere, I'll be there protecting all of you." He raised his tail, showing off his obsidian-black barb.

Turtle awkwardly chuckled. "I don't think you can really stab a spirit."

"Are you saying I've never fought a spirit before?" the SandWing grinned confidently. "I'll have you know that, as Queen Thorn's personal guard and adoptive son, I had to fend off armies of spirits. Vengeful ghosts of dragons. Such is the way of being queen, I suppose. Anyways, I just need to fight them. Give them the ol' one-two. Beat 'em off with a stick." He swung his arm, mimicking hitting something.

He laughed, feeling his anxieties melt away. Qibli looked back at him, a soft, genuine smile on his face. "Feel a bit better?" He patted him on the back. "Right, let's go exploring."

The experience was dampened by Turtle's constant anxiety, but even then he couldn't doubt the majesty of the palace. Despite its decaying state, it was beautiful. Quiet, with only the sounds of waves crashing in the distance and the gentle trill of the breeze blowing through. Roaming the vast, empty halls was an experience to say the least. 

It made him picture the nights that happened in this palace. Legends say that it was originally used for diplomats to rest, but also for parties and special occasions. Turtle, having the soul of a writer, felt his mind wander as he imagined the sorts of stories that would've spawned from such a place. The balls and weddings. The ceremonies and speeches.

...then, of course, there's the massacre, but Turtle would still rather not think about that.

After a long while of exploring through forgotten gardens, they reached the main gathering room. It was central to the rest of the palace, with several collapsed balconies around it. Dried-up ponds and steams littered the floor. In the middle of it all was a large, grand statue of a SeaWing. Despite the ruin around it all, the statue remained somewhat intact. Turtle could even make out the royal blue of which it used to be.

Off to the side was a large archway leading out onto the other beach. The setting sun was just about on the cusp of the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant oranges and yellows. The sapphire blue ocean pulled in and out rhythmically. It was as though it was the sea's own heartbeat.

"Woah..." he whispered, awestruck.

"Sure don't see places like this too often." Qibli walked ahead, eyes glazing over every detail.

"Hey!" a voice called from ahead. Turtle looked up, seeing Moon and Kinkajou on a balcony.

"What did you find?" Kinkajou asked.

"Not much. Bunch of gardens. Cool statues in them though," Qibli said. "How about you?"

"Bunch of old bedrooms," Moon replied. "Kinkajou thought she could find some treasure still. Checked all over. Nothing."

"Doesn't seem like it," Qibli said, "palace has been picked clean for centuries. Any chance for any sort of gems are probably all lost."

"Yeah..." Turtle quietly said. "Is anybody else feeling a little tired? Like they don't want to explore a big ruined palace that a bunch of dragons died in anymore and just sleep?"

The SandWing laughed. "I don't know about that."

"I'm feeling a little tired myself," said Moon. "It's been a long day of flying. I can probably lay down with Turtle if you don't mind."

"Oh come onnnn guys!" Kinkajou wined. "This is supposed to be a cool adventure for us! Sleep? Bleh! Gross! I want to stay up all night and look for all of these ghosts. It'll be fun!"

"I know, but...I just want to rest. Besides, this was all mostly for you two anyways." Moon opened her wings, flying down to the ground floor. "Sorry for being disappointingly boring..."

"No, no! It's all good." Qibli waved them off. "It's fine, really. Kinkajou and I can stay up and face those spirits ourselves. Buuutttt if you hear us screaming and calling out for help as we're being chased by a very scary old murderer dragon, you wouldn't mind helping us out, right?"

Moon and Turtle chuckled. "No, not at all." She turned her attention to Turtle. "I guess we can settle down here. I doubt we'll find a blanket of some kind."

"Ah, so we have to lie on the cold, hard floor."

"Yes, probably."

"Hey, if it'll make it up to you, I could try and find something. There's gotta be a stash of blankets that are still around," Qibli said, lifting himself into the air.

"Even after two thousand years?" Turtle asked.

"Worth a shot!" He shrugged, flying up to Kinkajou. "See ya around." He dipped his head before wandering back into the palace with the RainWing, leaving them both to themselves.

"Well, see you in the morning." Moon walked in a circle, patting the ground before lying down.

"Hey, quick question," Turtle said, "do you feel scared?"

Moon tapped her claws. "A little."

"You aren't just saying that to make me feel better, right?"

"Of course! It's just that, you know, being alone in a big palace. Makes me think about Darkstalker and that whole...thing." She sighed. "I know you're freaked out too."

"It's nothing, really. I'm just a little anxious over nothing. Spirits don't last forever, right? They move on. Pass onto some new stage of life we can't even comprehend. I doubt that he would still be here."

"He isn't, and, well, if he is, then we'll do everything to protect you."

Turtle glanced at his talons. There was a gentle tingling within them, a feeling he had only noticed when his magic was briefly taken away. "You shouldn't need to protect me."

"Hm?"

"I have magic, don't I? I should be able to protect myself. I should be the one protecting you in case something goes wrong."

"Nothing's going to happen though."

"I know, but, I still feel like I should be using it in case things happen. Stop being so scared of it. But..."

"But you don't want to end up like Albatross?" Moon asked.

He smacked his lips. "Yeah, pretty much."

She exhaled. "I'm sorry. But, it'll be a nice night, I'm sure. We can just sit and sleep if that makes you happy. The night will pass and we can listen to Kinkajou and Qibli and their adventures in the morning."

"That sounds nice." Turtle laid down next to her, yawning before resting his head against the marble floor. It'll be fine. He just has to sleep. When morning breaks, it'll all be over. When morning comes, Albatross will be gone.

He didn't know what time it was when he woke up. All he knew was that it was dark. Pitch black. Turtle blinked, his eyes slowly adjusting to the night around him.

He didn't wake up from some nightmare or anything. He didn't dream much these days. Instead, he felt a presence around him. A shift in the air. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, but it was uncomfortable enough to drag him out of his sleep.

Around him were the rest of the group. Kinkajou and Moon were huddled together while Qibli held his wing over Turtle. Looks like the hunt for a ghost didn't turn out so well if they were all asleep here.

He wiggled out from under there, slowly rising to his feet. He looked around, trying to see if it was just his paranoid imagination or if there was really something amiss.

Then, off in the distance, he noticed something. A dim light. A faint glow out by the ocean up ahead.

Immediately, Turtle's stomach dropped. His mind instantly went to the worst thing possible. It was him. He was here and he was going to kill them all. Why would there be glowing right there if not for being the aura of some spirit?

No, no... It's fine. Deep breaths. It's all okay. It's probably a moonlight jellyfish. They glow in the dark. Maybe it washed up on the shore. He could help it out a little. If he did that, then maybe he'd realize there was nothing to be scared of. That there is no ghost. No dangerous, vengeful spirit of a long-dead murderer.

He steadied himself as he walked forward. He repeated to himself over and over that he's got nothing to worry about. It's all okay. He walked up to the edge of the archway, right before his talons would touch the sand.

It was a glowing dragon with a massive spear plunged right through its neck.

His weight slipped beneath his talons and he fell forward. He tried to quickly turn around and fly, but, clumsy as he was, he tumbled and was now barreling towards it. He rolled along the sand like the most terrified armadillo to walk this continent before finally stopping. He froze completely. Paralyzed. His heart pounded against his chest as he tried to comprehend what to do.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting for an attack that never came, he sheepishly looked up.

Gazing back at him were two eyes, darker than the night around them. Their scales were a sickening pale grey. The most eye-catching thing of all was the silver spear that was lodged in his throat. Its hilt was stinking out one end, with the blade poking out the other. Faded stains of blood were dotted around his body, the most being around where the spear had hit him. Outlining the body was a gentle blue light that flicked like a lit candle.

The two stayed like that, staring. Turtle did not dare to blink, fearing that one small movement would instantly set him off. This was him. This was Albatross.

"Fathom?" the spirit asked. His voice was calm, if rather confused and surprised. "No, you can't be him. Fathom must have died ages ago. You're someone new. Someone in his likeness."

"...please don't kill me..." Turtle squeaked. He wanted to say something with more meaning. Cast a spell or anything. Yet, he was trapped in his fear. He couldn't think.

Albatross's expression dimmed. "Right. You must be terrified of me. I was so distracted by you looking like my grandson that I forgot about that horrible, horrible night. That night which made me what I am now." He tapped the spear. "Though, I do think you're the one to last the longest when seeing me. Most run. Maybe they'll throw something at me or try attacking me. Never works. Can't exactly kill a ghost, now can you?" He quietly laughed.

Turtle tried speaking again, but all that came out were mere whimpers.

"Goodness, you're petrified of me. I mean, anybody would. I haven't left the palace since the day I died, but I know enough to understand. I've been there when visitors come around. They steal the things out of my own house, cursing me and what I've done. It's upsetting to know what I am remembered as, but I don't blame you for being scared. I don't blame anybody. I should be condemned for what happened."

He finally shut his mouth. The more Turtle looked at Albatross, slowly, the less fearful he was. Granted, he was still very much horrified, but there was an air to the way the spirit spoke that resonated with him. That he was being genuine.

This wasn't what he expected. He pictured Albatross, the mad animus, as a being of chaos that the world has never seen. Some dark, twisted dragon who could barely control himself. He was imagining him to be vicious, bloodthirsty, and wanting nothing more than to kill.

Instead, he seemed mournful. He spoke warmly. There was reason and understanding in his body language. Even if it was idiotic, Turtle let his guard down somewhat.

"How...what..." he stammered.

"How am I here? I couldn't tell you myself. I've never read that much on spirituality and ghosts. But, I'm the only one left here. The rest have all gone away. Yet, I remain. I'm bound to this palace. I can't leave. If there was a way, I would've found it years ago. Then maybe I wouldn't be here, scaring you."

"You sound...sad," Turtle blurted out.

Albatross snorted. "Pff, do I really? I didn't know I sounded so melancholic. I haven't had anybody to talk to in ages. You're good company. Thank you for listening to an old sea dragon ramble, even if you're still scared. I know it's not much to you, but I promise I mean no harm. I've never meant harm. Ever. It's just..." He glanced away, breaking eye contact. "I was emotional. I had no excuse. I let my own instincts and desires take over my own better wishes. Despite doing everything right and trying my hardest to avoid it, it still happened."

He looked back at Turtle. "I'm sorry for what I've done for our tribe. You can run away now. I'll just be happy I had somebody to talk to, even if it was a one-way conversation." He smiled a crinkly, awkward smile.

Turtle stared. Then, he made what should've been the stupidest decision of his life:

He stood up but did not flee. He sat there. "My name is Turtle," he said quietly.

"Turtle?" he echoed. "You aren't flying away screaming?"

"Not unless you give me a reason to, I guess?"

"Isn't looking at a dragon who's killed dozens of dragons in one night enough of a reason?"

"It...should be, but I'm not that scared of you. You seem too sad to hurt me."

"Hurt you? I'd never do that! My magic is limited. I can't do much besides lift some rocks and play around with the water." He waved his talons. Behind him, a small amount of water rose into the air, shaping and twisting into the shape of a bird. A seagull.

"Even if I could do more, I wouldn't dare to hurt another soul. I've already done enough damage," he continued.

"You confused me for Fathom earlier. Your grandson, right?"

"Yes, Fathom." Albatross's eyes narrowed. "You have the wing patterns. You're royalty as well?"

He nodded. "...and I am also an animus."

He barked a laugh. "Really? I've never believed in reincarnation, but you're the spitting image of Fathom if I've ever seen it."

Turtle shuffled his talons. "Thanks. I got that once before."

"Hm? By who?"

"A big evil NightWing who wanted to kill the entire IceWing tribe. He was friends with Fathom as well. How did I meet him if he was alive two thousand years ago? It's a long story."

"Don't we all have long stories to tell." Albatross turned his back to Turtle, staring back at the ocean. "If you don't mind, may you sit next to me? I enjoy watching the sea."

Turtle hesitated, but he followed. He joined the spirit.

It was a tranquil night. A clear sky, the moons beaming down in their full glory. The cool salty breeze brushed against Turtle. Strangely enough, he felt at peace. He never would've thought in a million years he'd say that when right beside him is the ghost of Albatross, but what can you do?

"I'm sorry if this is selfish," Albatross began, "but do you have the time to listen to an old dragon's story?"

"Huh?"

"You seem like a wonderful dragon, Turtle. You're far too sweet than what I deserve. I apologize if it's a bit much, considering how I am still a murderer in your eyes, but could you listen to me tell my story?"

"Your story?"

"My life. Nobody ever heard about it. They only see me as a monster. I am, but I can't help but want something else. I want to tell at least one dragon about it. Set it all straight. Pour my heart out if only to get everything that's been festering inside me out into the world."

"That'd be alright. I like stories."

"It's not a very happy story. There's a lot of tragedy. Too much, now that I think about it. I'm sorry."

"No no! It's alright. I do want to hear it. What life was like for you," he said.

Albatross cracked another smile. "Thank you..." He sounded as though he was fighting back tears.

He waved his talons, the water rising once more. "I suppose I should start it when it all went wrong." The water slowly began to shift into the form of a dragon. "The day when I discovered my magic." 

[arcane-ish]

To expand a bit more on the whole "is redemption by death a proper arc for Jinx" bit which is gonna devolve a little bit in "who is the main character of Arcane season 2".

Not all Deaths are Created Equal

In my experience, there's usually a "hierachy" of deaths and bad deeds in a tv show. where for example no name characters count less than main characters, death we viscerally see matter more than deaths that not very graphic.

And as a rule the show usually gives us hints about how we should feel about something. If characters react horrified, it means we are supposed to take something seriously. If the characters don't take it seriously, we get the message we are not supposed to take it seriously either.

A good example if Ekko in season 1 expressing moral outrage over Jinx or Silco's actions. A counter example is nobody giving that much of a damn that Warwick just ripped apart a lot of people.

Yes, Warwick attacking people leads to Ambessa and Caitlyn taking it seriously by tracking him down, but there's not a ton of oomph behind it. We don't see anything that humanizes the dead, like let's say somebody dropping a picture of a family member, or Caitlyn having to comfort the loves ones of one of the dead enforcers, or among the dead being somebody like Caitlyn had a friendly interaction with, we don't get to see them humanized by the show showing us the fear on their faces as Warwick comes, we don't see the nitty gritty of how he tears them apart.

That doesn't mean that those deaths don't count at all, but the show certainly muted those deaths, because otherwise we might have had much more mixed feelings about getting to enjoy the hug between Warwick and the sisters.

A good example is Jinx's attack on the enforcers. They are slightly humanized by having faces and lines they exchange with Cait. We see their fear. We see a major character react to it in horror.

Who is the main character in season 2?

IMO, in season 1 it was very obvious to me that Vi was the main character. And yes, I realize some people will fight me on this, but imo it was very classic. Vi is the one on a journey, she did the heist, she fucked it up, she tried to make up for it, she tried to save Vander and watched him die, she hurt powder, she is sprung out of jail and goes on a journey to retrieve Powder and reacts to all the things that Jinx does.

Yes, many characters also had lots of personality, complex journey and moved a lot of action, but imo season 1 fairly traditionally revolved around Vi. She fucked up, she has to face her greatest nightmare in Powder hating her.

Now, in season 2, I would argue that that is no longer the case. IMO Vi no longer acts as the main character. You can argue that she is still the heart of the show or the connective tissue but but imo she no longer is the main character the way she was in season 1.

She has become much more of a spectator of others, rather than having her own goals and arcs.

I would argue:

Caitlyn is the main character of Act 1

Jinx is the main character of Act 2

Jinx is generally very nice-i-fied in season 2. Even in Act 1 when she is hunted, she barely has a death count and not against Caitlyn. Her pranks are non deadly.

And then in Act 2, I would say she is officially the main character, she has the emotional journey, she gets a character just for her to bond with and the climax of Act is that character dying and it being all about how that will affect Jinx. Simliarly, she is the active part of the Warwick story, she encounters him first, she understands him, she proactively seeks out Vi, she has all the special knowledge on him, she reads his letter, she is the one he jumps in to defend in the final fight.

This does not mean that Vi doesn't have emotions and character movement in Act 2 (ie her mini arc is whether she will trust Jinx enough to follow her advice or trust Cait against Ambessa). If the Warwick story had been about Vi, I think the show would structured it very differently. Like maybe Vi thinking being the first one to sense his presence or using the whole pitfight Vi stuff to have her remember Vander and what he taught her, or somebody taking her aside and telling her she fights like Vander.

The fact that Jinx is starting to get nice and semi nice characters (Sevika, Warwick, Isha and maybe Ekko) supporting her and protecting her that again signals to the audience that we should care and share their opinion on her.

IMO Jinx dying might have made some more sense if this was still strictly a Vi centered story. If it was like Vi still going to bat for Jinx and trying to save her and being rejected and it ends as "Vi's biggest nightmare" or "Vi has to learn to let both Vi and Powder go". Now I think that would still be a pretty depressing and shit story, but that might structurally made more sense. But since they took Vi's role as THE main character away from her it just fits a lot less.

What about Cassandra

Now Jinx is a character killed by Jinx who was named, good enough and a main character cares about it. IMO the way they wrote it still makes it fairly muted. Again, we don't see her fear and the gore of her death. We see Caitlyn's grief for her but it not really used to humanize Cassandra much. Yeah, she gets used as an exposition machine, but we don't let's say get Cassandra playing with a young Caitlyn or having fun with her husband (who is muted out by Caitlyn in her grief and is not present in Act 2 at all).

By focusing so much on Cait's grief it makes it feel more like Cait's grief is the problem and she needs to get over it rather than the focus being that Cassandra was a worthy innocent person whose life got snuffed out.

So in conclusion, the way season 2 is written a redemption death would just feel off.

Maybe there's a version of the story where Vi kept being the protag, ie where she more actively fought Caitlyn after Cassandra's death and was the one who tracked down Warwick on her own and who kept trying to reach Jinx as Jinx keeps doing messed up violent things, where Vi would befriend an Isha and maybe Jinx would be responsible for Isha's death. And maybe there it would make slightly more sense. (though to me that sounds like way too much Vi misery porn to be a fun story either)

[devildom-moss]

You know that hit game FNAF?

I hope you do.

Anyways, could you write headcanons about how well the side characters would be at playing it?

Thanks <3

Okay, so I have never played this game - or really had any interest in playing it, so I watched some guy play one of the games, and I did a bit of research. Sorry this took so long! I did my best, though... I'm finally almost done with requests. I've got two more left (good news for the Solomon lovers).

The others playing FNAF headcanons (dateables + new sides)

Diavolo

Diavolo downloaded it after tuning in to one of Levi’s streams.

He found it amusing. Scary animatronics are so entertaining – although he thinks they’re more cute than scary.

Laughs in the face of jump scares and death. “Haha, look, Barbatos. The big fox one killed me. I’m dead now.” / “That’s very nice, My Lord. Did you finish your paperwork already?” / “. . .uhm.” / “You have ten seconds before we reenact your game. I’ll be the fox.”

Does not care about the lore. He’ll listen and might retain some details when Levi explains it, but he will not dig deep or look for easter eggs.

He kinda sucks, but he has a good time, and isn’t that what matters? He’s not super careful or watchful because it’s just a game. There’s nothing at stake, so he can relax and just mess around.

His favorite character is Foxy, and it’s genuinely as simple as “he’s red, and he’s a pirate.”

Barbatos

He has no interest in playing at first.

Slight aside: I think he’d like horror games, but he strikes me as more of a cinematic, artsy horror game guy – like Bramble or Little Nightmares. He also strikes me as someone who might enjoy farming sims, like he would love Stardew Valley and Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons. Pumpkin Panic would probably be a happy medium.

He’ll play if Diavolo, MC, or Luke ask him to; for anyone else, he’ll politely decline. Surprisingly, he’s not too bad. He’ll probably die once or twice, but he figures out what he has to do pretty quickly.

Barbatos doesn’t react to jump scares, and he avoids them as much as possible. He can play without moving his face – at least until one of the three people who could get him to play compliments him. In that case, he’ll smile a bit wider.

Nothing in that game could be more horrifying to Barbatos than Chuck E. Cheese – a real human world place where people take their children for some unfathomable reason. It’s run by a rat! That’s one of the reasons he won’t play if Solomon asks him too. One time Solomon loaded a Chuck E. Cheese mod version of the game that he asked Levi to make, and Barbatos nearly broke the control from fright.

Luke

The game is a little too scary for his liking, but he still plays it occasionally – just not alone. He gets more paranoid and jumpier for a few days after he plays, but he’ll insist that he’s fine to keep playing if anyone asks.

He’s not great, but he’s still the best out of everyone at Purgatory Hall. He tenses up and just either goes wide-eyed or starts yelling at the characters in the game, but other than that, at least he knows what he’s doing.

Luke likes all the toy versions of the animatronics because they look cute, but the nightmare ones freak him out.

A wave of relief washes over him once he beats a game. He’s so happy that he can finally turn the game off.

Simeon

This poor man does not understand how to play – at all. He forgets which keys do what constantly, so he can’t react fast enough.

It’s a very stressful experience for him when he tries to play – all 10 minutes or so before he loses. Simeon doesn’t get scared so much as he just repeatedly asks what he’s supposed to do with increasing urgency.

Simeon would prefer to watch someone else play, but overall, he isn’t that interested in the game.

However, Simeon does find the lore and story interesting, so if he watches Levi or Luke playing, he’ll ask them questions about the plot.

Somehow, watching Luke play makes him more anxious than when he plays – probably because he doesn’t want Luke to lose and be disappointed.

Solomon

Solomon enjoys it because it’s supposed to be dark and scary, but it doesn’t actually scare him at all – barring a few cheap jump scares. Still, he kind of likes it.

Unfortunately, Solomon kind of sucks. Like Diavolo, he finds the game so amusing that he just chuckles when things get stressful. He’s the type to hear or see something spooky in the game and do nothing just to see what happens. Okay, so maybe Solomon doesn’t suck, he just likes to see how the animatronics are going to get him – a real “oh boy, I sure hope I die” approach.

Solomon loves watching Luke play. It’s hilarious when Luke freaks out – and it’s even funnier to watch Simeon get nervous on his behalf.

Unironically thinks the nightmare versions are cute.

Thirteen

She hates jump scares so much.

She played once, and at the first jump scare, she let out a stifled shriek, pressed esc, put her cat ear headphones down, and left the room (to go find MC, probably).

No thank you. She doesn’t need that stress in her life. She will not try that again. She might watch someone else play but only if MC is there to comfort her or if it’s to laugh at Mammon for being scared.

She’s not afraid of the game, per se, she just doesn’t like being startled. She thinks the characters are cute, in a way - like creepy cute.

Raphael

He thinks it’s stupid, and he doesn’t understand why it’s so popular. Raphael doesn’t care for gaming in general – but especially horror. He doesn’t want to simulate a stressful situation for no reason. If he wanted stress, he’d call Michael.

Raphael will try the game if Luke asks him to, and he does alright, but gets bored right up until he messes something up and dies. You wouldn’t even be able to tell he was in trouble. An immoveable frown sits on his face the entire time.

When Luke asks if Raphael would like to try again, Raphael tells him that if he wants a spear-free computer, he won’t make Raphael play anymore. The message was received.

Raphael will only watch if Luke, Simeon, or Lucifer play, and even then, he would probably pass most of the time.

Mephisto

He doesn’t strike me as much of a gamer, either. If he does play games, he’d probably choose games that are visually stunning and at least semi-relaxing, like Journey or Flower (probably Zelda games too).

He would play it if Luke asked him to or if he wanted to do research on it for journalism purposes.

Mephisto does relatively well, but he likes to investigate a lot, so he gets a bit distracted and takes it slow sometimes. Unfortunately – or fortunately – he has a habit of stopping after losing once. He’ll pick up the game again some other day, but once he loses, he stops that game for the day. On one hand, Mephisto does not allow himself to get pulled into games that he loses, but it makes his progress slow.

When Mephisto plays, he bounces his leg the whole time to contain his anxiety. He appears relaxed, but he flinches at jump scares and his eyes widen when he’s actively trying not to die.

He’s super into the lore – call it journalistic curiosity or just call him a nerd.  

[blood-orange-juice]

I promised a "Furina is Jesus" post. It's kind of a shitpost but also it's not.

The theatre of the courtroom

I'll first have to note that law is a peculiar thing. It is created through practicing it.

It's not just the written rules, it's how we apply them, and who gets to write and rewrite them, and there's no solid foundation underneath.

It's supposed to be treated as immutable until it's suddenly not. Until an insurgence turns into a revolution or the divine right of kings becomes a symbolic relic of the past. In the mildest scenario a bunch of old farts just gather and vote for new rules. Sometimes the very same rules that give those old farts the right to decide rules.

A law remains a law as long as enough people agree to believe and enforce it. How much is "enough" is also debatable (often depends on the size of your army).

It is very much like theatre. Humans like it when the world is molded into coherent stories so they happily participate.

Furina making a show out of trials is not a perversion of law, it shows she understands its very nature.

Transgression and transcendence

Now back to Christianity. The essense of Christianity is transgression. No, seriously.

It's as punk as a religion can get. A god hanging out with publicans and harlots? Killing a god in the most humiliating way possible and being forgiven for it? Symbolically eating a god?

It's insane.

Such practices are usually reserved for small communities of a very special sort (*ahem* left-hand path tantrics*ahem*). It's the only religion I know that gleefully and unashamedly incorporates such things into rituals meant for the lay public.

(this is probably a good time to mention that I'm not Christian and it's a look of an outsider fascinated with philosophy of religion in general)

It's actually one of the real reasons a lot of pagans rejected Christianity so fiercely: it's spectacularly nonchalant in dealing with things that would be considered "unclean" by most archaic cultures.

Now this is important.

As post-structuralist theories state, any attempt to establish a power structure, to set rules or to define self will also produce things that would seem unclean. Impure. Things that should be cast off. It's in the nature of our psyche. The concept of uncleanliness is one of the core mechanisms that allow our mind to function.

(I'll redirect you to Julia Kristeva and the concept she names abjection if you want to dive into it.

I also want to note that abjection and horror go side by side and it makes a lot of sense that Fontaine is also the Lovecraftian expansion)

And what did Christianity do? It subtly removed the importance of "cleanliness". The gravity of it. It established as the norm that norms can be redefined and transcended. That the outcasts and the sinners are not to be forgotten.

It fucking changed the rules of how human psyche and society function. Added an extra possible move.

A sin can be forgiven. A criminal executed in the most ignominious way can turn out to be a god. You never truly know. And also anything can be made clean. Go wash it kitten.

(yay)

(and yes, I know a lot of modern Christians practice the opposite of what I describe. I'm not a fan of these folks too. doesn't matter. the possibility is there. it's glorious. also horrifying and a bit disgusting)

That dude from two thousand years ago

What about him.

I often see people calling a "Jesus figure" anyone who is sacrificed to save others. Or anyone who is reborn. The thing is, this is not how it works.

A god dying and being reborn is the oldest myth on this planet. Last time I checked it was connected to the sun worship, day/night cycle and winter solstice rituals (although it could have changed and also I didn't check very thoroughly). In any way, it predates Christianity by millennia.

Sacrificing all kinds of things and beings to get something in return or to offer gods something else in your stead is also pretty old and very much not Christian.

The unique beauty of that story is that a supreme being, ultimately more worthy than any human, wilfully chose to sacrifice himself for lowly mortals. Actually, allowed them to betray and kill him. And then forgave them.

Do you see how it ties to the previous section? It defied the previoisly established world order (where gods were incomparably more important than humans). It created a paradox. It broke the rules, or rather it destroyed the rules.

Theological debates aside, on a symbolic level it pretty much destroyed the old concept of sin and the idea of a fundamental difference between a god and a human. Everything a paradox touches stops being fully real and needs to be redefined (ceci n'est pas une pipe).

'Sin' doesn't mean the same thing anymore, and 'god' doesn't mean the same thing anymore, even 'death' means a different thing now. The world just starts to function differently after a story like that happens or is told.

(since it only needs to mess up the symbolic order it doesn't even need to happen, only to be told and believed)

And there we have it. A Jesus figure should establish new rules. Preferably better ones. It's someone who fundamentally changes the world with their sacrifice.

That's also where we get back to "law is established by practice". That was the process of establishing a new law.

(this is also why I dislike the idea of Childe as a Jesus figure. he is not a supreme being, he's not the type to sacrifice himself for people he perceives as lower than him, and he is not integrated into society enough for his death to establish new rules. he can still die and be reborn in a new quality, he can even change the world in some way but that would be a different type of story)

Our precious girlfailure

So. Furina.

Fontaine's prophecy speaks of all Fontainians being born with some kind of 'sin'. And the way Neuvilette is talking to the pool of primordial water in 4.1 implies that its ability to dissolve Fontainians is not some kind of natural law but an intentional wrathful act.

And Varunada Lazurite (we know that ascension materials contain the final lines of the archon quest) says this:

"My ideals have no stains. I must correct you. People here bear no sins in the eyes of the gods... Only laws and the Tribunal can judge someone. They can judge even me. So praise my magnificence and purity."

I assume the solution will not be simply killing the eldritch whale or "cleansing" the sin or locking the sea away.

I think Furina will in some way redefine what is considered a sin, or how it should be judged, or who gets to administer judgement. She will create new rules for the world. Probably by dying in some way (temporarily or symbolically) to create a paradox.

(maybe we'll also get to learn that death in Teyvat is not true death)

As I said at the beginning, she understands the law and the very nature of law very well, probably better than Neuvilette. Who else would be better suited for this task.

And no one will notice the beauty and insanity of her gesture, like no one really noticed with that guy two thousand years ago. They'll just think things got fixed because they sacrificed Someone Important.

But that's all right. She'll forgive them.

[cntarella]

Okay, so more cogent thoughts on Nosferatu (2024):

It was a very middling movie in everything except the costuming, set design, and art direction — which were top notch. I also give it props for the great lighting, i.e. being one of the few movies set mostly in the night where you can actually see what's going on. Eggers and Blaschke really used light and shadow extremely well in a few scenes, thinking here in particular of that one shot of Ellen (i.e. Lily Rose Depp) on the bed with the side profile of her shadow on the pillow and that ending shot of Von Franz (i.e. Willem Dafoe) illuminated in the mirror that were genuinely such beautiful, artistic frames. Visually, great movie. But visuals can't make up for a script and a cast that were stilted as all hell.

First of all, the screenplay itself was trying way too hard. No one spoke in a particularly convincing way — everything was long monologues, diatribes really, that were meant to be ominous and add to the gothic atmosphere. But it was pure narration, nothing left to the actual interpretation of the other storytelling elements to convey horror. Instead of letting the atmosphere carry the mood, it relied so much on telling us "btw this is the horrifying thing happening, this is why it is horrifying" and genuinely felt like they didn't think people would understand...what was essentially a very basic story. Where tf is the dude that wrote The Lighthouse??? This cannot be the same man.

Second, the acting. Or the lack of acting!!! At least on the part of Lily Rose Depp. This woman cannot act, I'm sorry. The people who praise her for this role, I'm asking: did we see the same movie? This woman cannot modulate her voice beyond two slightly differentiated tones, and same goes for her facial expressions. Dead delivery for a floundering script, and considering she was most of the movie, made for an incredibly boring 2 hours. I will say, she did some great body acting but that's probably the only thing she did with any sort of panache. The rest felt too committed to showing her off in the sexiest waif girl light that it could, rather than actually making use of her as an actress.

She and her castmates had no chemistry either, especially between her and Nicholas Hoult and Bill Skarsgard. I'm supposed to believe this woman's husband would traverse the snowy mountains of Transylvania with nothing but a coat and a horse to get back to her after THE most sexless kisses??? I'm supposed to believe that Nosferatu was enticed by her "passion" and her dead-eyed impression of romance???

Speaking of sex scenes, there were a few in the movie that were just so bad. Lily Rose Depp making the same pornhub "uh uh uh" moans during ALL of these scenes, with little change in delivery or intonation. And I do mean "uh uh uh," it was embarrassingly bad and not just because the sex itself was badly simulated by her partners.

And then there's Nosferatu himself. What a disappointment. I wanted something grotesque, I wanted something fun. We kept getting teased about Bill Skarsgard's "horrific transformation" but like. It was a bald cap and a coat. It was a prosthetic nose. The most grotesque thing about him was being...emaciated? Slightly deformed? Kinda middle aged looking? I don't know that we saw enough of him to really be able to judge his acting on this particular film, but imo he did a better job as Pennywise than in this role. It was just the most mid monster one could potentially want to fuck, unbelievably mid.

The "gore" people kept warning about was very very light, very standard for a horror movie and not even the most grotesque in recent memory (First Omen still had this beat by a long long long shot in terms of actual grotesquerie). Some frontal nudity that was nothing to write home about. But at least there were 2,000 rats. At least we had that.

2.5/5 stars

[fatuismooches]

Hellow :3 Hope you're doing well! I had this random thought and i can't help but share my brainstorm.

So. Tsaritsa. The Cryo Archon. The leader of the Fatui. The Goddess of Love with heart colder than ice, with no love left for her people. Or is she?

Childe confirms that Tsaritsa is far too gentle in his voiceline. Venti says that she and him were close 500 year ago, but then she cut all ties with him. These statements combined, i tend to think that after the Cataclysm, Tsaritsa has become cold due to the horrors and injustice she experienced (there is a theory regarding the book "Pale Princess and the Six Pygmies" which could elaborate on that but it's far too long to explain it here 😅). However, the Goddess of Love is still there, even if hidden deep within her.

Pehaps common folk of Snezhnaya can't see her as sweet, loving and benevolent Archon due to Fatui's dirty way of doing things. That being said, Tsaritsa could also be aware of her terrible reputation among the people which makes her embarrassed and disappointed that she couldn't follow her ideals and be a loving Goddess of Love she was supposed to be. However, if you asked the Harbingers, she is a sweetheart energy embodiment. The Eleven are her most loyal group of followers, i feel like she trust them, so she dotes on them quite a lot.

Now picture this. Tsaritsa arrives to Dottore's lab for whatever business she had to sort out with him. While the two are talking, poor Fragile!Reader stumbles into the room to sleepily announce that they are hungry and ask for Zandik to make some food, but then- oh heck. Is that the Tsaritsa? Bad timing... Terrible timing, in fact...

Or was it? Tsaritsa is confused but extremely curious. Whatever they have been discussing before is no longer important. She immediately asks Dottie who is this and poor blueberry (yeah, that's what i call him affectionately 😊) has nowhere else to go but explain himself. Fragile!Reader is just as shocked to have a sudden encounter, but for their surprise - Tsaritsa shows not a hint of hostility, anger or general disagreement. Before the reader and Zandik knows it, there is an ocean of questions leaving Archon's lips.

What's your name? How old are you? Where are you from? What do you like/dislike? How have you met Dottore? When have you met? What happened? How long have you been suffering from this mysterious illness? How is the cure creation process going? How are you feeling now? How-

For some such behavior may appear annoying and perhaps even suspicious. However, Tsaritsa's excitement to meet and get to know her 2nd lieutenant's significant other is as pure as freshly fallen snow. If there are any intentions behind her questions - it's only the good ones. How could the Goddess of Love wish harm to her Harbinger and his lover? Especially when they're such a cute couple?

Let's just say Cryo Archon took GREAT liking into Fragile!Reader. Blizzards in Snezhnaya haven't been as horrifying ever since and Fragile!Reader got to enjoy the nice afternoon walks with their lover, appreciating the beautiful scenery of endless plains of snow as far as the eye can see. Goddess of Love is well aware that couples need their privacy, so she tends to not interfere too much. However, with each visit she pays Dottore, be it for Fatui work matters or casual, she also politely asks to visit the reader. She is almost like a doting, caring mother and always reassures reader that it's gonna be okay. Dottore is her best scientist, after all! He will find a cure soon enough!

Bonus: i feel like she'd sometimes go CloudRetainer mode and tell stories of younger Zandik, when he recently joined the Harbingers (let's assume the reader was in comatose during that time).

In conclusion, the meeting was sudden, but fateful. Zandik's and Reader's relationship was blessed by the Goddess of Love herself. The bond they share is far more stronger than one may first anticipate - so strong that even Tsaritsa expressed her recognition. There was no mistaking: if they ever need guidance, she got their backs.

- 🐺

🐺 ANON I AM ABSOLUTELY REVELING IN THIS CONCEPT OH MY GOSHHHH. I completely agree with your take on the Tsaritsa I've spoken about it before about I think she was kind but had to change herself after what she experienced and also to accomplish her goals. BUT OMG. YOU WENT SO GOOD INTO HER CHARACTER. To think that she knows she has to be cold for the sake of her plan but hurting inside that she can't be the loving archon her people deserve hits HARD. Though she is quite grateful for her Harbingers, though no one could ever completely understand her pain they are the closest people to her and understand her more than anyone. New Fatui members are always surprised to see the Tsaritsa herself going to visit her Harbingers. It doesn't seem like something an Archon such as herself would do. But she does anyway.

MOVING ON OH MY MY I AM LOVING THESE INTERACTIONS BETWEEN TSARITSA AND FRAGILE READER. You always held a grudge against the Gods for being cursed with this illness. But the Tsaritsa was an exception. There was just something about her that was comforting. And relatable somehow. Even with these feelings, you would be so awkward and even a bit scared at first because all of your knowledge of her comes from Dottore. You try to excuse yourself quickly but there's no escaping at this point since the Tsaritsa's gaze is fixed on you now.

Dottore never thought he'd have to explain this to Her Majesty and for once is a bit unsure of how to phrase it but goes with the simplest explanation: "[Name] is my lover." You're sweating at this point because you've had bad experiences with Gods before but to your surprise and relief, the Tsaritsa is now rattling off questions about you to both you and Zandik. Your head is spinning by the end of it but thankfully Dottore answers most of the questions for you.

You actually feel very happy and appreciated by the Archon's genuine interest. When was the last time someone besides Zandik ever doted on you? You loved him but it got lonely sometimes. The Tsaritsa is only upset she didn't know about you sooner! At some point she shushes Dottore up and only wants you to answer her. Her sheer adoration makes you feel a bit hot and embarrassed but in a good way.

AH YESSS TSARITSA MAKING THE SNOWSTORM LESS SEVERE FOR READER 💖 Takes me back to when i did a piece like that a few months ago, because she would do that for her dear Harbinger ❤️ It makes her content to think about how you and your husband are able to enjoy her country together much more. Only thing is that the Tsaritsa's drastic change in weather makes the other Harbingers question why this is happening so Dottore should keep you hidden as best as possible from his nosy co-workers ehehe unless he wants to deal with their pestering too.

I think the Tsaritsa is really good at soothing and easing others' worry considering she is probably the Goddess of Love so she can easily see through your worries. You don't know how but when she talks you can't help but believe her. Omg not her telling on young Zandik 😭 You keep this secret to yourself considering Zandik won't tell you those stories himself. I just know she has excellent memories when it comes to the people she cares about. I can see her remembering everything and anything because she knows how easily something she loves can be stolen from her.

Gosh i love this. Most people may think that your relationship is not one of true love, perhaps fake or forced considering the kind of man Dottore is. But the Tsaritsa can easily see true love. And she'll see to it that you two stick together.

[painted-doe]

WIP word search

Tagged by the exceptional @bromcommie! Enjoy a bunch of snippets from some of my WIPs based on the keywords that appear in them. (These are probably longer than they're supposed to be but hey ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

My keywords were: space, sharp, sweet, home

space

From “what the water wants”, a horror story about a poltergeist haunting Bucky and Sam (although no horror makes an appearance in this part).

The one and only time he’d ever been invited over to Bucky’s place, Sam had stood in the doorway of the barren apartment and stared. For a moment he’d wondered if the elevator had taken them to the wrong floor — if maybe this apartment was empty and waiting for a tenant to move in. Because this wasn’t a space where someone lived. 

But Bucky had pinned him with a stare that said don’t fucking say it, and had shouldered past him and thrown his keys on the counter with the familiarity and confidence of a person who did, in fact, live here. Anyway, they’d both been bleeding and bruised and covered in toxic slime at the time, so there had been more urgent things on Sam’s mind.

But later that night, once they were both scrubbed and disinfected and bandaged, each wearing a pair of Bucky’s sweatpants and working their way steadily through several white boxes of Szechuan takeout on the floor in front of the TV, Sam had turned to him with purpose. Bucky had stiffened and stared straight ahead like he’d never seen anything more fascinating than the crowds cheering for Hungary’s soccer team.

“Dude,” Sam said, not unkindly, “you know you don't have to live like this?”

sharp

From “Diptych”, a two-part Sambucky fic. Part 1: Sam and Bucky are sucked into Westview and Wanda mashes them together like a couple of action figures kissing. Part 2: The aftermath when they return to real life.

Sam didn’t remember there being any children in Westview, but he must have forgotten somehow. 

Of course there were children; there were children everywhere now that Sam was noticing them. Even Marcus and Jeannie had a son, Jack. Maybe it was odd that he had forgotten about little Jack, since they lived right next door. But it was very easy not to think about that, so he didn’t.

Jack was competing in a junior league baseball game and everyone was invited. Bucky was feeling steady enough to leave the house, and that didn’t happen every day, so they put on sweaters and dusted off their baseball caps and held hands as they walked down to the baseball diamond in the crisp air. They were entering the deepest days of autumn, with Halloween right around the corner, and the low afternoon sunlight dappled the orange-red leaves of the trees that lined their little suburban street. Bucky’s winter-coloured eyes caught and held the amber light, and it softened all his sharp edges to gold; Sam’s heart flipped a little when he met his gaze and smiled.

sweet

From the upcoming second chapter of “A Candle in the Window”:

“Hi, Mr. Barnes!” Peter shouts, waving at him.

Barnes, who has just leapt onto the metal dinosaur’s spiny back and is using a combat knife in each hand to scale it like a mountain climber, looks genuinely horrified to see him. It’s actually kind of sweet.

“Is that you under there?!” he yells. “What the — get outta here, kid!”

“Thanks for coming!” Peter shouts back happily, and promptly gets knocked out of the sky mid-swing as the thing’s big metal tail smacks him. 

Fortunately, he lands in a tree. 

Unfortunately, the tree is about to be set on fire. 

The robo-dino’s mouth opens toward him, its jaws wide enough for him to stand up between them, and those are some very big pointy steel teeth, and he can see the flamethrower powering up at the back of the throat where the tongue ought to be, and all his instincts fail as for one critical second he <em>freezes</em> —

And at that exact moment, a big ball of snarling supersoldier slams fist-first right into the thing’s metal jaw, a vibranium uppercut hard enough to knock it off one of its hinges. The jaw is now dangling by one end, like a car’s bumper after a fender bender. The jet of fire that was about to melt Peter’s face off ends up going cockeyed and blasting a duck pond instead. He hopes there weren’t any ducks paddling around in there, because there definitely aren’t now.

home

from “Lagniappe”, a novel-length TFATWS story about Bucky rescuing a dog from a dogfighting ring and accidentally rehabilitating himself along the way.

The dog didn’t have a name. That was what made him decide.

He hadn’t had a name either. Not for a long time. The electricity and heavy dizzying drugs had scraped even that last dignity out of him. Even now, years later, the person-thing he’d managed to salvage and stuff back into himself was only a messy amalgamation of bits and pieces. Secondhand stories from Steve of who he’d once been; hazy snapshot memories; habits and tastes he didn’t quite remember but had been informed he once had, and so had now re-adopted out of a weird fear of somehow getting it wrong. Getting the business of being Bucky Barnes wrong. 

He was an unabashed mess, but most of the parts HYDRA had ripped out had slowly grown back, little by little. He still lost his words from time to time, but he didn’t have to carry a knife to be able to bear a trip to the grocery store. Sometimes he still woke in distress in the night, keening and shivering from the memories, but now he could look someone in the eye and tell them no if he didn’t want to obey them. Now he could go for a walk on a frosty day without losing his breath and having to call someone to take him home. He was even making amends for the things he had done — or at least was trying to, in his bitter fumbling way.

And all of that had started with his name. His name in Steve Rogers’ mouth. “Your name is James Buchanan Barnes,” Steve had told him desperately on that helicarrier, like wedging his foot into a door that was trying to slam closed — and Bucky had still fought him, had almost killed him, but the words had worked their magic. His name had begun to reawaken him. His name.

The black dog didn’t even have that.

@philtstone, @fixing-the-boat, @possumwoodpie, @clucku, @toxiclxki, @snarkythewoecrow @writethewolvesaway @wishihadatail @shackleton2 I choose you! Your keywords are: ignore, kind, lose, silver (And anyone else who wants to play, consider yourself tagged -- sorry if I missed you!)

[thewollfgang]

On the “should werewolves have tails?” Thing, it’s very much a vibes thing, what are the werewolves doing in the story.

Cause my favorite HORROR werewolf is this thing

Varcolac from Resident Evil village.

It’s still got it’s human clothes on, it’s mouth is a bloody mangled mess, it still has thumbs, and when you actually look at it’s face you realize it’s still a human face, but the skull shape has changed so it looks like someone pulled a human mask over a canine skull.

This is purely an antagonist/enemy, it’s supposed to make your stomach upset, it’s supposed to look like an affront to nature and god. You’re supposed to panic and cry when this thing chases you then cry even harder when you get a proper look and realize what it once was.

It also, doesn’t have a tail. Because putting a tail on this thing would: 1) ruin the silhouette. 2) add something familiar that our brain immediately recognizes giving the viewer a “frame of reference”. Sure you’ve never ever seen something like that before, but you’ve seen a tail before, which means even though it’s a big scary monster, that little bit of familiarity is enough to have you subconsciously categorize it closer to “animal” (known threat) and not monster (unknown threat)

Tails are also a way dogs/wolves express emotion, and most humans have a vague idea as to what tail motions in dogs mean, so adding a tail also makes the monster more “readable” and thus more predictable

So, in the case of world building, I’m “Tails if you want the audience to sympathize with the werewolf” “No tails of you want the audience to fear it.”

But then again, you could always subvert the examples.

Have you ever seen The Thing? Because the dog in that movie is genuinely unnerving, and it’s in large part because he never wags his tail. Movie dogs usually wag, and that’s either cut out through framing or even in post, if it’s cut out at all. But Jed just… never wags his tail… and it makes it seem like there’s intent in every movement, like this Thing really is an intelligent alien hiding in plain sight.

I have never seen those things before and I love them oh my god. Absolutely horrifying 10/10. And yes! You've made some EXCELLENT points. In this silly au I'm worldbuilding, creatures and monsters exist (mostly) in plain sight. The werewolves are largely sympathetic, but like any culture/people they have things that foreign cultures will struggle to understand/seem terrible and strange.

The werewolves of this world are highly family oriented. Some packs and families have long, carefully traced pedigree (think like the Kennedys) but other packs eschew this mentality and are willing to take in strays and other non-wolves. Regardless, all werewolves have a respect for nature and the world and believe themselves guardians of it, even if they go about protecting it in different ways. Bachelor packs and lone wolves tend to get in more fights than alphas in charge of packs, but fights to dethrone an alpha do happen from time to time (and they can be to the death). They largely lead human-like lives, and are fairly easy to relate to. So...probably tails and ears for these kinds guys.

However, they are not human, and there are moments you do not want to face off with a werewolf, so I need to think of some ways to get that across without sacrificing their relatability. I'm still waffling over whether they're bipedal or quadripedal, or if they can gait change between the two.

[just-1other-nerd]

Okay, so I watched the pilot of The Amazing Digital Circus now that I've found out that it's a YouTube show which means I have access to it in my country. And boy, I've got some things to say:

Great voice acting and great casting especially for Pomni, Jax and Ragatha

I love and hate the visuals, I hate, that it looks so much like plastic, so smooth and textureless and so many contrasting and shrieking colours because I don't like looking at something like that (Idk it's kinda too much and not enough at the same time). But I love it because I'd say that's clearly the vibe they were going for, it really works for the story. It is supposed to look fake, over the top and like plastic to mimic children's toys. It's also supposed to give you the ick and overstimulate you because our main character is overwhelmed and doesn't feel save in this environment because Pomni clearly isn't save. But just as the character, the viewer will eventually adapt to this world.

The animation is really good, even though the characters have limited facial expressions due to being toy-like (for example can't really do many microexpressions with your nose if it's just a triangle) but that also means you can go for more cartoonish expressions which are animated very well and contribute to the overall surreal vibe. I think in this sense it reminds me of Toy Story.

I really like the character design, it's expressive, colourful and off-putting, some characters are more abstract than others, some more like toys. All of them seem fun at first but then you remember that those are human souls trapped in those bodys which they didn't even choose. On that note I got to say how perfidious it is that the new character in the circus is a harlequin/joker/jester when the one that they get rid of is a clown, you know, like a replacement. Each character has unique physical strenghs and weaknesses and I'm curious how the creators are gonna play with that. Nothing really fits together just like in a kid's toy chest.

I love the writing. It's only the "pilot" and yet they already set up so many things (like that computer and that "C&A" logo) and make you ask so many questions and they get you invested in the mystery element of everything, kinda reminds me of Gravity Falls. They clearly already have a vision in mind and know where they want to go. Given that they are indepentent it makes sense that their pilot is different than TV show pilots which are there to show to producers etc. so that they can decide whether to invest in them or not, like compared to the ATLA pilot this isn't a random episode but the beginning of a story. It's a good set up for most of the characters: Caine as the insane game master, Bubbles as their assistent who's not good at their job, Pomni as the new one through which we get to experience the psychological horror of being stuck in a digital world, Jax as the sarcastic jerk, Ragatha as the sympathetic and empathetic one who helps making things easier for Pomni, Kinger as the crazy old one, Zooble as the done-with-it-all one and Gangle as the shy and emotional one. I really hope we explore the last three a bit more in future episodes. They have really good jokes which help create the vibe by enhancing the dissonance between the childish setting and design but very mature and disturbing premise by making the humor mature and the horrifying concept funny which it really shouldn't be. And that kinda fucks with you once you realise that you are suddenly laughing at this very traumatising thing which plays dress-up as something fun. Everything is very kafkaesque (had to read "Der Verschollene" in school so we talked extensively about what that means) in the sense of the main character and we as observers don't know what the fuck is going on and how this world works and feel helpless and trapped in those structures which we can't understand because they're not meant to be understood. But it differs from Kafka's work because the main character hasn't got the personality of an empty slice of toast and it isn't just misery, as I said there is humor and it isn't dreary but colourful. The concept is well established as well, we're going to have little quests and adventures each episode while the overarcing plot is that the characters try to find out what's even going on and how they can escape. The world building is good, like they set up future locations, characters that aren't humans but you're not sure if they are some of the aforementioned NPCs (sun and moon), the void as a concept. But they leave enough unexplained to explore it in future episodes

Now the questions I have: Who or what created that digital world, how much authority does Caine really have, why is nobody allowed in the void, how does the weird headset trap you in this world, how long have the others been there, who are the other abstracted humans, what's going to happen with them, why all of this, where the fuck was that café where Caine and Bubbles chilled, did he really not know what was going on with Kaufmo (you know because he has all those eyes which supposedly watch all of them), for whom are they performing that theme song, why can't they remember anything about themselves except how they got to this world and that they shouldn't be there, what's with that computer, what was going on between Caine and the moon, what was that dial-up 3.40 minutes in, what's with the exit door because I don't believe for a second that he was trying to make this a gift for them, what does "C&A" mean, does the C stand for Caine, who choses the avatar of the humans? And most importantly: How will they escape?