#or the new characters that *do* get added would be/feel more significant.

[willlmesh]

sucks that hyv is such a shit company they should relinquish xingqiu to me. my oc now

[felassan]

New today on DA:TV from Game Informer: 'A Deep Dive Into BioWare's Companion Design Philosophy In Dragon Age: The Veilguard'

"A Deep Dive Into BioWare's Companion Design Philosophy In Dragon Age: The Veilguard by Wesley LeBlanc on Jul 15, 2024 at 02:00 PM During my visit to BioWare in its Edmonton, Canada, office earlier this year for the current Game Informer cover story on Dragon Age: The Veilguard, I heard a sentiment repeated throughout the day from the game's leads: in past Dragon Age games, BioWare stumbled onto great companions, but with Veilguard, it's the first game where the studio feels it purposefully and intentionally created great companions. As such, those companions are key to everything happening in Veilguard.  With such a significant emphasis on these characters, I spoke to some of the game's leads to learn precisely about BioWare's philosophy on companions in Veilguard.  [embedded link to DA:TV reveal trailer] "No, that is the case," BioWare general manager Gary McKay tells me when I ask if he agrees with the stumbled-onto-greatness sentiment. "I would first start with Dragon Age – each installment in this franchise has been different, so we didn't set out to make a game that was a sequel or the same game as before. We really wanted to do something different and we did push the envelope in a couple of areas, companions being one of them. Once we got knee deep into it, we really realized we had something special with these companions, again, around the motivations, the story arc, and it really started to become the centerpiece for this game.""

"The Philosophy Behind Dragon Age: The Veilguard’s Companions Game director Corinne Busche agrees, adding that Veilguard's companions are "the most fully realized complex companions we've ever crafted." She also believes they're the Dragon Age series' best. "They're complicated, they have complicated problems, and that's what's interesting," she continues. "As much as I adore the companions and the journeys I've been on with them in past Dragon Age titles – previously, it feels like companions are going on an adventure with me, the main character, whether it's the Hero of Ferelden or Hawke, you name it. But in [Veilguard], in many ways, the companions are so fleshed out that it feels as though I'm going on a journey with them. I'm exploring how they think and feel; I'm helping them through their problems. We're working through their unique character arcs. They feel like my dear friends, and I absolutely adore them." Busche says these companions participate in the game's darker and more optimistic parts. "We've really moved into a place where you can have the highest of highs, and it can be colorful, it can be optimistic, but also, you can have the lowest of lows where it gets gritty, it gets painful, it gets quite dark. But throughout it all, there is a sense of optimism. And it creates this delightful throughline throughout the game."  When I ask creative director John Epler about BioWare's philosophy behind Veilguard's companions, he reveals a phrase the studio uses: Dragon Age is about characters, not causes.  "What that means for us is [...] let's take the Grey Wardens, for example – the Grey Wardens are an interesting faction but by themselves, they don't tell a story, but there are characters within that faction that do," he tells me. "And the same thing with other characters in the story. They represent these factions, they show the face of the other parts of Thedas and of the storytelling we really want to do, which, again, shows Thedas as this large, diverse living world that has things going on when you're not there.""

"Epler says one of BioWare's principles when creating Veilguard was that the world exists even when you – Rook – are not around. There are things, ancient conflicts, grudges, and more, that happen even when Rook isn't participating in them, he says.  "You kind of come in 'in media res' in some of these, so that's where we wanted to go with the companions," he says. "They have stories of their own. Where can Rook come into these stories, and what interesting ways can those stories develop not just based on themselves but also based on Rook's presence within them?" Dragon Age series art director Matt Rhodes adds that companions are the load-bearing pillars for everything in Veilguard, so "when you're designing them, it's not just designing a character; they're the face for their faction, the face for, in [some cases like Bellara Lutara], an entire area of the world." From his aesthetic-forward part of developing companions in Veilguard as the game's art director, he tells me Veilguard's characters are (hopefully) going to give cosplayers a challenge.  "The previous art director had the mindset we should make things easier for [cosplayers], which I think is a misunderstanding of cosplayers," Rhodes says. "We've seen the kind of challenges they're willing to take on, and so we've gone for, in some cases, a level of complexity and detail that I hope a lot of them are excited to rise to the challenge for." A Quick Detour: Neve Gallus"

"As Neve Gallus is the companion I spend the most time with during my visit to BioWare, I asked Epler about this character and her role in the game. Here's what I learned: "So Neve is a private investigator in Minrathous. Minrathous is the capital city of the Tevinter Empire. It’s also a mage-ocracy; mages run the entirety of the Empire – they’re all-powerful. A lot of them still believe in slavery, they keep slaves, it’s a very oppressive, totalitarian regime. And Neve is a member of the Shadow Dragons, which is a rebel faction within Thedas that fights back against this mage-ocracy, fights back against this oppressive, very damaging regime that’s taken over the city, because she believes there’s good, and she is there for the common people. So if you’re not a mage in Tevinter, you are lower than dirt for a lot of people. She and the Shadow Dragons, in general, fight back, but Neve, in particular, is this character that represents this more, ‘voice of the streets, the voice of the common people.’ In previous Dragon Age games, you go to Orlais, you meet Emperor Celene, you meet Briala; we wanted to have a character that showed not just what is Tevinter at the top, but what is the average person who lives in Tevinter. And she is very much about, again, fighting oppression, fighting tyranny and, as a private investigator, finding clues and ways through problems that aren’t maybe as action-focused as some of the other companions." Companions, In And Out Of Combat"

"Rook's companions in Veilguard have roles both in and out of combat, but since I only saw a few hours of this game (which is sure to be multiple dozens of hours long), I wanted to ask Busche about these roles and how they play out. Here's what I learned:  In Combat Bushce: "So companions as realized characters, we have to take that premise when we talk about how they show up in combat. These are their own people. They have their own behaviors; they have their own autonomy on the battlefield; they'll pick their own targets. As their plots progress, they'll learn how to use their abilities more competently, and it really feels like you're fighting alongside these realized characters in battle. So I love that, I love the believability of it. It feels like we're all in it together.  "But then when it comes time for the strategy, and the progression I might add, that's where a sense of teamwork comes into play as the leader of this party as Rook. When I open the ability wheel, I almost feel like we're huddling up. We're coming up with a game plan together. I see all the abilities that Harding has, and I see all that Bellara is capable of, and sometimes I'm using vulnerabilities synergistically. Maybe I'm slowing time with Bellara so that I can unleash devastating attacks with Harding, knocking down the enemy, and then me as Rook, rushing in and capitalizing on this setup they've created for me. It is a game about creating this organic sense of teamwork.  "Now, there are more explicit synergies as well. We very much have intentional combos where your companions can play off each other, you can queue up abilities between them, and each of those abilities will go off and have their effect. But it results in this massive detonation where you get enhanced effects, debuff the entire battlefield, all because of planning and teamwork. What makes it really cool is you can introduce Rook into that equation as well. One of my favorite things to do is upgrade some of Harding's abilities so she will automatically use some of these abilities that normally I'd have to instruct her to do. And she'll actually set my character up to execute that combo that, again, has that detonation effect." [embedded link to DA:TV gameplay reveal video]"

"Outside Combat Busche: "It's one of my favorite topics. I talked about the idea that these are fully realized characters, that they're very authentic and relatable. So outside of combat, what that means is they're going to have their own concerns, fears, distractions, and indeed, even their own sanctuaries, their own personal spaces. In our base of operations this time, our player hub, the Lighthouse, each of the companions has their own room. And what I love about it is it becomes a reflection of who they are. The more time you spend with them, as the game develops as you work through their arc, their room and their personalities will evolve and flourish and become more complete as they trust you more and you understand them better.  "What's interesting, you mentioned romance, the companions also develop romantically and I'm not just talking about with the main character Rook; I'm talking about each other. There are moments in the game where two of our companions fell in love with each other and I had to make some pretty challenging choices as it related to the quest we're on. And it broke my heart, it absolutely did [Editor's Note: I get the sense Busche is talking about a specific playthrough of Veilguard here – not a definitive sequence of events for every playthrough].  "So I would say, as you're adventuring with them, as you're returning to the Lighthouse and getting to know them – all these decisions and conversations and things you learn about them – it endears them to you in a way that I honestly haven't experienced before. And sometimes that fills me with joy and sometimes it breaks my heart." For more about the game, including exclusive details, interviews, video features, and more, click the Dragon Age: The Veilguard hub button below."

[source]

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Given we have finally gotten news regarding the anime what do you think about it being an adaptation of the manga?

I have some mixed opinions since we'll be seeing the same story for the 4th time at this point (game/manga/novel/anime) but there does appear to be some differences with each especially with each unique Yuu. I do think the OBs and fight choreography is best animated over a slice of life show.

I'm not expecting any major changes from the manga if any at all but I'm happy to see it animated at all. I do hope it is successful so that the other books get animated. I feel like we are in a purgatory of early TWST with how often we go back to the earlier books in different mediums.

[Referencing this news!]

Gonna be honest with you, I’m kinda numb to getting yet another adaptation of the main story (a story that, mind you, we've already heard ad nauseum). At this point, it really does feel like a never-ending purgatory or time loop where we are forced to relive Heartslabyul over and over and over 😅 Of course, I'm still looking forward to seeing the anime and watching some of the more complicated scenes play out (fights, flashback sequences, playing magift/spelldrive, etc.). However, I think I would have preferred something new...? For example, vignettes, the event stories, etc.

The anime being an adaptation of the manga is... fine? But that means the anime may also have the same issues that I have with the manga. Those would be:

We will never really be able to fully bond with or know Yuu on a deeper level since Yuu is constantly changing between books/seasons. We won't get to see how the Yuu of Heartslabyul interacts with characters in later books, we won't get to see how the Yuu of Octavinelle handled the Heartslabyul and Savanaclaw conflicts, etc. We won't see any of them grow or change as a result of interacting with the NRC cast. This sucks particularly because if you really love a particular Yuu, you know they won’t be sticking around.

Despite the Yuus being designed as foils for the OB boys of each respective arc, no special meaningful interactions come out of it. The reader/viewer is just left to draw the parallels but there is never a moment where Yuu and the OB boy reconcile about their similarities/differences, which would actually justify the frequent changing of the POV character.

Barely any alterations are made from the game's story, since the manga isn't allowed to deviate in significant ways. No matter how different the Yuu is, they cannot ever make a decision or even have dialogue that would actually change the story in interesting ways.

General time constraints (manga arcs are 20 chapters, seasons have a limited number of episodes).

Limited showing/screen time of some characters. Because the adaptation will be of the main story, some characters that make very bad first impressions (hi, book 2 Leona… hi, Sebek without the vignettes…) will maintain those bad first impressions and won’t have a chance to redeem themselves simply because the bonus content (vignettes, event stories, etc.) aren’t adapted. Other characters won’t get as much focus simply because they aren’t the OB boys. The former would mainly be a concern for anime/manga-only fans.

Most of my disappointment comes not from reliving the same story, but that we are reliving the same story with minimal changes. I would enjoy adaptations more if they actually played around with the source material and explored new avenues! It feels like a missed opportunity, you know??

As I said earlier in this post, this is NOT meant to be overly negative; this is healthy skepticism. I'd describe myself as still excited, but not as excited as I would be if the anime were about something else set in the Twst world. Hope that makes sense 🙏

I would also caution readers to take my concerns with a grain of salt; for all we know, maybe the anime will add new scenes or fix some of the issues I pointed out. We should wait until the anime is out to judge its content and quality for ourselves.

On a positive note though 🤡 M-Maybe we will see. Shirtless L*ona animated… because… y’know… Episode of Savanaclaw technically canonized it… HAHAHAh JK… unless…? 🥺 👉👈

[toskarin]

As someone knowledgeable about MMOs, and given the topic of SAO just came up. If you were to write a .Hack/SAO/Log Horizon style story, what kind of things would you focus on? I personally feel like there are a lot of different elements of MMO culture anyone writing about them could really delve into. So I'm curious what Tumblr user Toskarin would choose.

condensed

back when I played Perfect World, it had some empty spaces. this wasn't uncommon for mmos, and if you can name one older than 15 or so years, you can bet there were vast empty spaces on the world map that existed to pad it

but they were important! sure, they added nothing of obvious value and could cynically be read as existing just to pad travel time, but they also made the worlds feel bigger than you what you were doing in them. and more mysterious.

some friends in my guild and I got a message one day that one member was going to roll a new character and wanted help levelling. a complication: their starting zone was across the sea.

a few friends and I volunteered to swim across the sea to their zone. there were definitely easier ways to go about it, but setting out to do something just to see if it was possible seemed fun

now, they may have changed this since then, but the sea in Perfect World felt strange in a way I haven't seen any game really emulate since. the sky was a dull, and as was the fashion, everything was a bit muted. the sea itself was opaque, and when you swam under it, there was a significant amount of grey-blue terrain that seemed to stretch on forever into the fog

and of course, there was fuck all in it. nothing alive. no monsters until you got close to a shore. just vast empty sea that you swam through, only your friends' characters to break up the odd stillness of it. you probably turned the music off at this point, too, so there was only ambient sound and splashing

this is because you were supposed to fly over it, if you crossed it at all. and because there wasn't really a good centralised source of knowledge on these things, it wasn't really clear if it was entirely empty

the trip there was fine, if a bit boring and lonely. during the trip back, I accidentally clicked on something in the middle of the ocean

now, there weren't supposed to be things there. I had my friends, but I clicked on a monster, and when I swam down to look at it, I saw that it was actually an enormous sea monster

so I pinged one of the guildmates swimming with me and they thought I was lying, so I showed them, and then we repeated this several times until everyone in the group had seen this weird thing that felt like it came from a schoolyard rumour

Ancient Sea Dragon. 99,999,999 health points and none of us could find anything on it posted online. it was pretty common for players to run into it and be shocked, but we didn't know that

so we naturally let the rest of the guild know, got a hunting party together, and spent the better part of a day just whittling its health down

with the benefit of hindsight and documentation of this thing existing now, I can spoil this and tell you it didn't drop anything, but this long down the line, I still think about how deeply surreal it felt to stumble on an enormous sea monster in the middle of what my brain had come to understand as a liminal space. the sea was supposed to be mostly empty, and here was this thing

which is a very long way to introduce what I think is lacking here: we need more of those enormous empty spaces that leave characters with nothing to do but talk and feel completely isolated. sometimes you get to a sprawling castle city and it's completely empty because the players moved on. sometimes the devs threw an enormous monster in the middle of nowhere just to fuck with you, and that was kind of cool even if it sucked

[comfortless]

Outside they say you’re alright (chapter 1 of ?)

🌱 PAIRING: König x fem!reader 🌾 CONTENT: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. fae au. blanket warning for death, violence, very light horror elements <— comes with the territory; all of this being said it’s still cozy and sweet here!!, not even remotely canon compliant, slow burn, eventual smut. chapter specific warnings: animal death (bird), implied ghoap, minor character death (but not really, hold tight!), non-consensual cuddling. 🍃 NOTES: this is my first time writing in a long stretch, but after finishing Meeting the Other Crowd i had to write this lest i wound up chewing thru my own fist. later chapters may have additional warnings added. not proofread. wc: 7.9k

next ->

The season of turning leaves, of the harvest moon, of a waning veil; it feels as though the entire world calls for change. Packing to move feels less arduous when the very earth is moving along with you, shifting her shape to bring in the autumn, the winter. Autumn feels less intense in the city. Concrete and vehicles don’t naturally shed their skins, hibernate, bed down and cozy up by a warm hearth. There’s a significant lack of trees and wildlife, all uprooted and shed away to make room for more human comforts. It’s never felt like home to you.

It’s almost funny how in your desperation to be untethered from an unwelcoming, pristine and metallic skyline, you’ve managed to neatly pack away your entire life into a mere two bags. Everything that wasn’t utterly necessary or sentimental donated or tossed into the garbage behind your former apartment. You know it’s a silly thing to believe a new roof over your head in an unfamiliar town a few hours venture away will change your entire life, but just as the leaves turn you feel it’s your moment to follow suit.

Kate hadn’t made you pay anything in advance. No deposits, no frivolous faxing of paperwork, Kate had requested nothing but email correspondence, and perhaps that should have set off some instinctual alarm bell in your head. Yet, you had been in contact with this woman for weeks, and you hadn’t picked up on anything odd in the eloquent responses Kate had given. The woman answered all of your questions with ease, and even had the decency to ask if there was anything she could do to make the move more bearable.

You found Kate’s listing on craigslist of all places— a humble little ad showing off a barren room in a small cottage located in the middle of nowhere, some mountainside town down south that you had never heard the name of prior. It was impulse that led you to reach out, typing out a sloppily worded email in the midst of another sleepless night expressing your interest in the room and a few words about yourself. Kate didn’t waste any time with her response, declaring that she felt you would fit in well in the home and things progressed naturally. You had decided that you liked Kate already.

But nothing could have prepared you for actually meeting Kate Laswell.

As you park your little, beaten down sedan in the forested driveway, you takes a moment to calm your nerves. A six hour drive has left you feeling as though you’re in an entirely different world— around the midway point in your journey was the last time you had actually seen a town. There’s a sense of apprehension building, and yet it does little to fully snuff out the excitement.

The cottage laid out before you is off-white in color with a grayish-brown roof, blanketed by tendrils of hedera helix curling up each corner of the home and meeting in a cluster on the roof. The fence surrounding the property, wooden and worn seemed more decorative than any protection against anything getting in or out. ‘Quaint’ was the only word that seemed to come to mind as you step out of the vehicle and move to the trunk to collect your meager belongings.

And as the trunk of the vehicle slams shut, you’re met with the sight of a gentle-looking woman sprinting toward you from the cottage, a bright, welcoming smile on her face and an oversized yellow cardigan draped ‘round her shoulders. “So glad you made it,” Kate greets warmly. “Need help with your bags?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Didn’t bring much.” You reply, and for the first time in months, you feel your heart begin to settle in your chest. This was good. The stress of the city seemed to retract its claws from your shoulders the moment you take a good look at Kate and the cottage behind her. The woman is older, soft lines visible on her face. She was fragile looking like a twittering little bird, but there was something in her eyes that suggested she was much more than her stature. Maybe not a robin at all, but a red-tailed hawk instead. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and the clothing she wore looked comfortable, a loose fitting white blouse, jeans, and the cardigan you wonder if she may have even knitted herself.

“Well, come in then. We’ll get you settled and have tea, or whiskey if you would prefer it.” Kate says with a wink, taking you by the hand and pulling you up the gravel-laden trail towards the door. Sparrows are nesting in the trees above, clover, sourgrass and wildflowers springing up in a viridian and brown blanket beneath your feet, and the dirt feels far more forgiving against the soles of your boots than the pavement of the city ever did. This already feels like home. “Just tea would be fine.”

Kate shows you around the cottage with pride, and you find that it’s entirely deserved. The home is immaculately tidy, albeit a tad cluttered. The woman had all sorts of strange baubles and crafts lining walls and shelves, books of all nature (even an extensive romance section you had found yourself drawn to, Kate had laughed at the sight of your eyes lingering on the spines as you read the suggestive titles), her furniture was all clean and patterned. Your room nearly brings you to tears. It was still rather empty, just as the pictures in the listing had suggested, with only a bed, dresser and vanity furnishing it. However, in the windowsill sits a blue planter with your name delicately painted on the front of it.

“A lily,” Kate informs you, smiling soft as you gaze down at the little green bulb in the pot. You ghost your fingertips over the rim of it as you tilt your head to look back at Kate, both confusion and gratefulness painting your expression. Kate’s smile doesn’t waver as she steps to your side and gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze. Her kindness has already made you trusting, and it seems with every action she takes you feel more at peace, as though Kate were merely an estranged aunt rather than a complete stranger. “I thought a lily might suit you. It might still be early enough for her to bloom.” You whisper a thanks, returning her smile with one of your own. The thoughtfulness of such a simple gesture warms your heart in a way that you hadn’t felt in some time. You make a mental note to read up on plant care to ensure Kate’s gift doesn’t go neglected.

She waits to lead you into the kitchen and dining area until after you had put away your things and have properly seen your room. The rooms are just as well cared for as the rest of the cottage, every item in its proper place, the sink cleared and a knitted doily placed in the center of the range. The table is what catches your eye most of all though— a fat loaf of fresh baked bread placed carefully on a platter next to small serving dishes filled with honey and jam, a tea kettle and two floral painted mugs set neatly just beside the display. It looks more like a painting than any meal you’ve seen before, far too accustomed to quick snacks and dull fast food bags. In the city, working so much just to ensure that you still had your apartment to come back to, the time it would take to prepare something even as simple as this was never something you could expend.

“This looks… it’s lovely, Miss Laswell,” You breathe out shyly, taking a seat at the table, your fingers flexing slightly. This kind of welcoming felt so foreign, not that you minded it. Not at all.

“Please just call me Kate.” She says with a laugh, pouring out a generous mug of tea for you and sliding it across the table as she takes place on the opposite end. Her smile is infectious, warming your heart and causing the corners of your mouth to tug upward, too.

“Kate.” You say aloud, committing it to memory. You wanted to be respectful. This was her home, you were just a temporary guest after all. You accept the mug of tea with a thankful nod of acknowledgement before taking a small sip. Warm. Everything about Kate’s home and her demeanor is so warm. Even in the midst of autumn, there’s no chill here, only tenderness and warmth as though some invisible hearth roars in the corner of every room. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me.”

Kate hesitates for a moment, and had you blinked you would have missed the way her thin shoulders seemed to tense and the lines at the corners of her mouth visibly tightened. She parts her lips to speak, eying you carefully before… she merely reaches across the table to slice you off a plump helping of the bread, scooting the bowls of jam and honey in your direction.

You wonder if somehow your words had offended her, and you wished you could retract them, snatch the fluttering of your voice from thin air, but as quickly as that thought comes, Kate sighs.

“Well, I haven’t been entirely upfront with you, dear,” Kate begins in a soft voice, tilting her head as she sips her own tea. Your eyes widen in surprise at her words, uncertain as to what weight they carry. Your thoughts immediately veer in the worst direction— perhaps she wasn’t offering the room as long as the listing stated, and you had no where else to go. Perhaps someone else lived here too, someone dangerous.

“What do you mean?”

“The neighbors come around sometimes.” She says, and it almost pulls a giggle from you. Neighbors? You hadn’t seen any other homes on the way up here, and having lived in an apartment complex you were used to all manner of folks, from the loud, the strange, the elderly and standoffish. You give her a little shrug in response, unsure of what to say to such a silly thing.

“You’ve just got to understand how to deal with them if you see them,” Kate continues, her mouth pressed to a thin line as she regards you. There’s that sharp look in her eye that suggests she really isn’t kidding around, that there may even be a threat if you didn’t hold what she says next with the highest regard. You feel a swell of unease, but give the woman your rapt attention, not even bothering with the bread on your plate despite the way your stomach grumbles, quiet but demanding. “Don’t eat their food, never give them your name. Don’t thank them either, even if you break your ankle on a hike and one stops to help. No thanking them.”

You laugh. This had to be some silly joke, harmless hazing for the new roomie. Your mirthful giggles die in your throat when you meet Kate’s gaze again and her expression is entirely grave— gone was the soft smile and the twinkle in her eyes, and you’re quickly reminded as to why you thought of a hawk when you first saw that look in her eye.

“Kate… I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

She toys with the handle of her mug for a moment, watching as if to ensure your amusement has entirely died out before she graces you with another word. “Dear, I know I sound like I have bats in the belfry, but I need you to listen to me.” A heavy sigh leaves her lips after her words and her brow pinches as if she’s trying to consider the best possible way to explain this farfetched idea of her neighbors to you in a way that’s easy enough to digest without giving too much away. “Perhaps meeting one of them would be the best way to show you.” She mumbles as she sets her mug aside and stands from her chair. You remain dumbstruck in your seat, watching as she pulls her yellow cardigan tighter around herself before fumbling around in the kitchen to retrieve a small woven basket. Kate places two thick slices of bread inside and the little dish of honey too as you watch on.

“Sure.” You say with a quizzical tilt of your head. You didn’t want to insult your new roommate further, and she seemed deadly serious about this strange concept. Maybe it was best to appease her, and meeting other folks that lived out here didn’t seem like too arduous a task. Kate flashes you that smile again as you agree and offers the basket out to you. Your fingers curl around the stiff handle as you stand and bring it closer to your person.

“There’s a little walking trail out back that leads straight up the hill to the cemetery. Ghost should be there.”

“Ghost?” A ghost in the cemetery. How fitting.

Kate breathes a laugh and shakes her head. You’re pleased to see the tension has left her, she seemed at ease and just as sweet as she had when she rushed to greet you earlier. “Not really a ghost,” she explains with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You’ll see. He’s a bit… prickly at times, but he’s harmless enough. Just take him the bread and you’ll see.” Harmless, you want to tell her, is what most people should be expected to be without graceful description. ‘Are the others harmful, then?’, your mind supplies, as if trying to make you feel closer to a side character in some low budget horror film. Something was certainly off here, but you don’t find yourself questioning it further.

Kate leads you to the back door, unlatching a chain lock before unlocking the deadbolt and pushing the door open. The hinges whine as she directs you toward the trail with a pointed finger. And, with an encouraging pat on the shoulder, she pushes you out of the door. You can hear the tinkling of the chain and the thump of the deadbolt as she locks it behind her. You don’t know whether to side more with the anxiety building in your chest or the frustration burning at your stomach after finding yourself in this situation. So maybe Kate did have ‘bats in the belfry’ as she had called it. What woman would have invited a complete stranger to come live with her in the middle of no where, after all. But this was only your first day here, and you knew you had to make the most of it. Where else could you possibly go?

At least she was nice. The tea had been perfect, too. With a sigh, you decide to overlook her eccentricities for now as you start walking towards the trail. Your pace is brisk, orange and red fallen leaves crunching with each step as you meander up the thin, forested trail. The chill of an autumn breeze pushes through the trees with ease, shaking a flurry of dead leaves from dark branches to whirl around you, one landing gently on the shoulder of your coat. You pluck it off, twirling the stem between the fingers of your free hand as you walk.

The cemetery comes into view about half an hour later. The peaks of moss covered tombstones rise up over the hill, and you’re surprised to find that the old graveyard isn’t entirely overgrown. Some thorn bushes border the backside of the small clearing, trees towering so high to either side it almost roofs the area in entirely apart from a center circle where sunlight beams in. It’s quiet apart from the splintering of leaves beneath your soles and it dawns on you that you haven’t heard a sound not pulled from your own being since you started your short journey here.

You look around for this supposed ‘Ghost’ for a few moments, scanning both behind and above the tombstones. There’s nothing and no one to be seen, just a heavy silence and carpeting moss over stone that hasn’t been touched in what looked like centuries. You didn’t want to return too soon for fear of Kate not taking too kindly to it, you couldn’t run the risk of being cast out, even if the thought of her doing such a thing already felt uncharacteristic and outlandish.

So, you kneel in front of a larger headstone, fishing out a slice of bread from the basket and smoothing honey over it with the butter knife Kate had placed inside. The engraving was entirely illegible, worn away by the elements, and with so much moss encompassing it you doubt you could have read it anyway even if it hadn’t been so neglected. The bread, still warm and soft is nibbled at as you inspect some of the other graves, all in the same state of disrepair. A part of you wishes you had plucked some wildflowers on the walk, perhaps you could have given some restless spirit the satisfaction of not being forgotten.

A clipped ‘woof’ pries you from your thoughts, a deep and breathy sound that sends a chill down each bony knob of your spine as you whip around to face whatever had made the noise. You’re met with the view of a massive dog standing a mere three meters away. The animal’s fur was a coarse, wiry black, it’s eyes just as dark. It regards you with its ears flattened back against its skull, dark lips pulled back in a snarl, though it doesn’t growl. In fact, the creatures tail betrays this display of intimidation as it wags lazily behind it.

You break a corner of the bread off and extend your hand out to the dog, cooing softly to it and encouraging it to approach. The dog huffs, ears flicking forward. It watches you for several long moments before stiffly walking towards you, accepting the bread into its large mouth and swallowing it down without so much as a courtesy chew. Up close, you can’t discern what breed of dog this is at all. His ears were long and floppy, descending down past his maw, his hair looked stiff and rough almost like a wolfhound’s but it was much shaggier, longer.

“Good boy.” You chirp, reaching up to lightly ghost your fingers over the crown of the dog’s skull. The dog recoils with another huff, and for a moment you almost think you see his eyes narrow as if he were glaring at you— a silent ‘do not touch’. Your hand retreats and you mutter an apology out to the creature. The dog doesn’t move, standing still as a statue as it watches you fiddle with the handle of the basket and rise to your feet.

So, no Ghost, but you did meet a dog. That would have to do for now. You were exhausted from the drive, and more than anything you wanted to be in the warmth of a building, away from the volatile breeze and the eerie silence of the graveyard.

“Wait.” A voice rasps as you turn back to the trail. Everywhere and no where at once it comes and the feeling that arrives with it, so peaceful yet uncanny. Just like before, you don’t hear the dog approach, but you feel the cold of a wet nose press against your palm. His mouth opens, grazing your fingertips with his teeth as you whip your head around to look down at the creature, eyes wide and brows raised in shock. What?

You wrench your hand away from the dog, uncertainty sending a violent shiver down your spine. Surely the animal couldn’t’ve …

“F’me, wasn’t it?”

It’s not your mind playing tricks from the emptiness of the graveyard.

The dog spoke, rough and deep and accented.

The creature’s tail wags languidly behind him as he stares up at you expectantly, big paws placed firmly in a moss bed below with long, black claws curved into it.

“P-pardon?” You manage to breathe out, voice tight as your chest rises and falls rapidly with shallow, panicked breaths. This was impossible, you knew it. As a child you had spent countless hours trying to get your childhood pet to utter a single ‘I love you’ to no avail, and yet this dog before you seemed to find human speech as simple as inhaling or flicking his ears. The dog huffs, his dark eyes rolling, and you realize the animal does not simply speak, it finds you amusing too.

He noses at the basket, sniffling deeply at the food within before peering up at you in silent demand. You part your lips in a small ‘o’, lowering the basket to the mossy floor. The dog doesn’t spare you another glance as his tongue lolls out to lap at the dish of honey and draw the bread between rows of hungry teeth. He eats quickly and with all the grace of any normal canine, crumbs dotting the fur surrounding his mouth as he raises his head to regard you.

“You just… you spoke to me?” You question, your knees wobbling in surprise. Perhaps if he didn’t have the look of a cute dog, you would have been more fearful. “You talk?”

The dog tilts his head before sniffing at your boot for a moment only to raise his head back as he settles onto his haunches. The animals ears perk up, still flopping at the ends, almost covering his dark eyes.

“You smell like Kate.” He speaks, but his mouth doesn’t move. In fact, his entire body remains rigid and still, a graveyard statue blessed with the breath of life.

Something clicks as his words register. This isn’t just some extraordinary talking dog, this was the Ghost Kate had mentioned. Your eyes finally relax, there’s no more look of surprise, there’s no more unease. Having a talking dog for a neighbor seemed so much better than dealing with Mr. Thomson, stumbling back into the apartment complex after a long night drinking, singing his curses to the city, to the world itself.

Ghost was just fine.

Emboldened by this sudden realization, you reach out to the dog again. “Ghost,” you say with a hint of a smile. “You’re awful cute, aren’t you?” A giggle escapes you as you see he’s not moving away this time, but diligently sniffing at your hand. The dog pauses after a moment, flashing a hint of teeth at you. It’s not aggressive, you realize. Perhaps, he’s not the best with people.

“An’ you’re awful chummy, girl.” The dog snorts, turning his head away indignantly. So this one had a bit of an attitude, you let it roll off the shoulder. Surely he would warm up, talking or not, most stray dogs had a tendency to. You retract your hand and collect the empty basket and the dog gives you a slight nod in approval.

“I’ll walk ya back.”

— — —

The walk back to Kate’s cottage felt longer than the hike up to the graveyard. Ghost didn’t seem very keen on talking to you, despite his offer to escort you home. He padded in front of you with hurried steps, only circling back to nip at your heels every now and then if he felt you were trailing too far behind him. You didn’t yet know that there were other eyes in the forest observing the two of you. Each time a branch snapped behind or to either side of you, or when footsteps or laughter could be heard some distance away, Ghost would dart behind you to mouth at the leather of your boot with a low growl to keep you from looking at anything apart from the roof of the cottage as you approached.

After the third bite, with the cottage in full view you finally stop in your tracks, reaching down to ruffle his ears. “Why do you keep doing that?” You ask, an air of annoyance to your tone as you note the indents of fangs in your boots— the only pair of shoes you had even brought with you, already covered in drool and bite marks by some magical dog you hardly knew.

Ghost snorts, dark eyes locked on your face as he circles back around you. “You’ve got lead in your head or your shoes girl, which is it?”

You puff your cheeks in a slight pout, half a mind to knock his fuzzy head with the basket in your hands. “Neither,” you mutter, carrying on towards the cottage. “Stop biting me.”

Ghost shakes his shaggy head, opting to press his mouth to your hand in a silent order to get you moving again. You oblige, leaving the dog behind as you make it to the back door of the small house. You knock once, and already hear the sounds of the locks unlatching just beyond the wooden door. The door swings open, and Kate stands there in silence. face paled.

Ghost lets out a low bark somewhere behind you as you wave him off. Kate smiles broadly at the dog before turning to look at you just as he scampers back up the trail, no doubt back to the graveyard he had appeared in.

“I apologize, dear,” she breathes out, ushering you back inside. She looks incredibly apologetic as she takes your shoulders and turns you around to face her. Her tone remains a cross between stern and reassuring, and you feel a swell of guilt, almost like you should be comforting her rather than the opposite.

You explain to her that Ghost didn’t frighten you, and she settles immediately, a sigh of relief leaving her lips. You return the basket to its proper place, stored on a shelf high up in the pantry as you tell Kate about your interaction with the strange, talking graveyard dog.

“Sounds like he likes you.” Kate responds followed with a soft laugh. You notice she’s cleared the table of breakfast, only neatly crocheted doilies in place of where the two of you had sat earlier that morning. “He wouldn’t speak to me the first day we met.”

You shake your head in protest, gesturing towards the marks from his teeth in your boot. “He bit me!” You whine, earning another laugh from Kate. You crouch down to untie your boots, pulling them off of your feet, the woman kneels next to you and pries the boots from your hands with gentle, aged hands. She runs her thumb over the indentations with a hum.

“I should be able to fix them.”

“Really?”

Kate nods, standing to her feet and offering you her free hand. You take it, straightening yourself out. The room smells of lemongrass and lavender, the flickering glow of a large candle placed neatly on a side table housing a few choice pieces of fine china.

You watch as Kate takes your boots to her room, no doubt where whatever supplies she deemed useful enough to fix them lay in wait. She returns roughly a half hour later with them graciously repaired, and you’re uncertain of how she’s managed such a feat to the extent she has— no more indentations, no scuffs on the leather. They look new, something you haven’t seen since the day you purchased them.

You thank her graciously with a little bow of your head and you and Kate fall into a comfortable conversation. She tells you that there are many others like Ghost, that some of them look human but aren’t, that some are no more than groaning shadows or looming abysses of fur and sharp claws. Kate diligently reiterates her rules from earlier, and though you weren’t quite sure you believed her entirely about the dangers of these ‘neighbors’, you nod along enthusiastically.

“So, if Ghost is just a dog, why doesn’t he live here? With you? Winter gets cold in places like this,” you breathe out, seated on the opposite end of the floral patterned loveseat next to Kate.

“Oh? He didn’t show you then.” Kate laughs. She’s brewed another kettle of tea and she dispenses the amber fluid between two mugs. “I suppose he didn’t want to frighten you off, but he’s no dog.”

Your eyes widen, and you’re uncertain as to why Kate’s words fill you with dread, a cold spike through the chest that sends a shiver down each ridge of your spine. Ghost hadn’t hurt you, of course. He didn’t even seem to be entertaining any idea other than eating and walking you home. Maybe a bit pushy, but otherwise a proper gentle…dog. Your head tilts, wordlessly asking Kate to fully explain what Ghost may have been hiding.

“He’s a big guy,” is all she says as she takes a long sip from her tea. You open your mouth to speak again, but all of a sudden the scent of tobacco fills your lungs, swirls around the entire room as though it was emanating from the walls itself. You stifle a cough with your palm pressed flat against your lips and Kate laughs. Yet, as you glance about the den, you see no one else. Paranoia? But Kate seemed to have smelled it too. “Not me, dear.” She says quietly.

“… what are they?” You question, voice wavering. The scent of tobacco seems to grow stronger then dissipate after a few moments only to return.

“The good folk,” comes Kate’s immediate reply as she stands, clapping her palms against her thighs with an exasperated sigh. She tilts her head to look down at you with a small smile. “This one’s nice enough, too. Don’t worry.” Despite the waves of scent that drift in and out of the room, nothing else seems to appear. With everything that’s happened today, a part of you expects to meet with a sentient cigarette at Kate’s words, but… nothing.

— — —

As the days pass, you and Kate fall into a sort of routine. The woman will tell you the most unbelievable things with a smile on her face, and you find almost too quickly that everything she says is true. This place feels holy in a sense. It’s no church, but things of myth seem to embedded themselves into the walls, singing like a choir in the dead of night. You swear you hear Kate talking to someone some nights, a man’s voice booming through the cottage. They share laughs and the scent of a cigar ebbs and flows, but every time you’ve tried to steal a peek at this visitor, he seems to vanish the moment you step out of your room. Maybe you would think him rude if you knew for certain he existed at all.

Your mind tends to play tricks after the stress of leaving behind everything you knew, uprooting your entire life to come here. On the second day, you lose your car keys. You had placed them on your nightstand and you knew it, but the following morning they were no where to be found. On the third night, you wake up on your side in bed, the sound of someone breathing deeply behind you sending a swell of dread from the base of your neck down to the heels of your feet. Sleep paralysis, you tell yourself, but you knew you had pulled the blanket a bit tighter around yourself when it happened, stealthily tried to move your foot to see if you could feel anyone. You could move, it had been real.

It’s on the fourth day that your heart sinks in your chest. You wake to morning light flooding through the curtains, the chirping of birds in the willow just outside of your window. As you sit yourself up and wipe at your eyes with the meat of your palms, you realize the potted lily Kate had gifted to you is gone. Plants don’t just get up and walk, using their leaves to tug up their pots as if it were trousers as they saunter away on thin, wiry root legs. You feel like your sanity is slipping when you check the window and realize it’s still locked. Even though the lily was just a plant, you feel a sense of grief at the fact you couldn’t find it anywhere— not beneath the bed, in any drawer, the closet or… anywhere in the cottage.

You finally give in and decide to ask Kate, to which she explains that this event isn’t uncommon. You expected her to be upset (with what you believed to be your own irresponsibility), but she remains kind as always, tells you it will turn back up when you least expect it and ushers you to the kitchen to prepare breakfast with you, coffee, omelettes and bowls filled with blackberries.

“You could try asking Ghost,” Kate offers, “He seems fond of you, perhaps he took it.”

You bite back the urge to ask her how a dog could have possibly broken into your room and stolen a potted plant. The very image of it seemed silly, a beast like him biting down on the clay pot to, what? Haul it off to rest it atop some long-forgotten soul’s grave? Instead, you toy with the eggs on your plate, still feeling a bit strange about the entire ordeal.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Don’t be afraid,” the woman speaks up again. The expression on her face, oddly sheepish, doesn’t suit her well. A silent ‘don’t leave’ buried beneath her words, written clear as day in the sullen look in her eyes.

The trek to the graveyard feels heavier this time around. The dog isn’t what has your skin crawling, it’s the ever-present feeling that something just beyond your field of view is lying in wait, eyes trained solely on your form. You swear you can feel a puff of breath on the back of your neck a time or two, almost causing you to trip over a cluster of fallen pine cones and other forest debris. It’s silent, as always, and as much as your eyes scan through fallen leaves and bent branches, you can’t make out the sight of anything scampering about, not so much as a squirrel or a proud cardinal. It’s strange how empty a place teeming with life can feel at times when something lurks coaxing the other creatures to silence lest they fall victim to sharp fangs. Even you, you find, have taken to subconsciously adjusting your strides as to not step on too many fallen leaves, avoiding twigs as though making a peep at all would be a death sentence.

Making your way to the hill littered in graves only makes it feel more certain, that steady drip of dread telling you that death was nipping at your heels. Though, a part of you considers that’s just Ghost’s presence. Black shulk, a keeper of fairy mounds, a harbinger of death.

You’re not met with the presence of a wiry-haired dog this time though, but a man clad in black, face concealed by the frontal bones of a human skull with all but the jaw mostly there. Tall and bulky, the thin fabric of a tunic barely concealing the rigid musculature beneath. There’s a moment of panic, so brief the swell and fall leaves you breathless, before you realize looking into those eyes that this was still the dog you had met before. Different, but still just as haunted and weary. There’s a misplaced sense of peace with Ghost; a wolf taking to shepherding a lamb rather than devouring it.

“Ghost?” You call to him, and he tilts his head ever so slightly, attention pulled from whatever duty he feels that he owes to this cemetery. Some instinctual guardianship, perhaps, rooted just as deeply in his fae blood as the pride and fear in your humanity.

“Yes?”

The dog, man, whatever he may be doesn’t seem to have a care that you see him as he is now, his focus returning to the same tombstone you had kneeled beside the day you met him, thick fingers roving over the mossy stone. He’s not clearing it away, you notice, merely looking it over and it dawns on you that perhaps, in some distant past that this was someone he once knew. Had he waited at their side during their end? Pressed his muzzle to their palm in a kiss of death? Your fingers twitch at your side as your feet move on auto-pilot, arriving at his side before you seat yourself next to him.

Ghost smells of sulfur, of pine and morning dew. Not death as you had expected. He smells of spring mornings and hazy summer afternoons, scorched earth and vibrant meadows all in one. Purgatory made flesh, a passerby between heaven and hell.

“Did you steal my lily?” The words seem entirely outlandish as they spill from your mouth, and you realize how stupid you sound the second he cocks his head to look you over beneath the skull concealing the majority of his face from you. He doesn’t have to give you an answer, really, because you know he didn’t take it, but he still gives you the courtesy of a slow shake of his head. “Well, it’s gone.” You say quietly, drawing your gaze away from him as you look to the tombstone before the both of you. You can see it now, the name. Johnny MacTavish.

“Don’t know anything about it,” Ghost utters, his dark eyes remaining trained on you, but his hand moves to the soil beneath his feet. There’s a certain reverence to his touch as he splays his hand across the earth. This ‘Johnny’ must have been important to him in some capacity. Not a kiss of death at all, you realize then. Whatever Ghost was, he had the propensity to love, to grieve.

“Oh.” You breathe soft, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. A heavy silence hangs in the air for a moment. You hadn’t meant to interrupt him during such a sensitive time, but there’s some flicker in his eyes when you look up at him that suggests a semblance of gratitude that you’re here. “… you knew him?” Your force the question from your tongue, and Ghost merely turns his head to look at the stone before him, eyes somber as they trace over the engraved name as though he were reading poetry.

“That I did.”

You both sit in silence for a time. There’s a part of you that doesn’t want to leave him to haunt this place alone anymore, and a more rational part that tells you that he belongs here, tethered to this Johnny’s side for the rest of his days. Ghost seems less tense in your presence, almost soothed by the silence it seemed as his broad shoulders go slack and he pays his silent respects to this buried man by way of gentle touch and a barely contained softness in his eyes. The silence feels neither awkward nor unfamiliar, it’s as gentle as a breeze passing through. You picture what this man must have been like, to steal the heart of someone like Ghost, even in death. You don’t ask, despite the questions burning in your throat. In due time, perhaps.

An hour passes before you force up the will to leave him, and just like the last time, Ghost walks you home. There’s no more pushing, no ushering you to look forward or walk faster. The man would never voice it, but something about the way he looks at you now tells you there’s some newfound respect budding up in his chest like a wildflower.

The silence is only broken as you reach the door to Kate’s home.

“Somethin’s got its eye on you, lovie.” You whip your head around to question him, but find the man has already gone.

— — —

You return empty handed, noting that Kate’s car was no longer parked in the gravel driveway. A note on the refrigerator door reads ‘Out. Be back soon!’. It’s the first time that you’ve found yourself alone in the cottage, but you have the sense to tell you that you’re not entirely alone. Even the mottled white and blue wallpaper, some faux marble pattern, makes you feel as though you’re being watched, as though something you’re just not seeing is tucked away beneath those colors observing you with the eyes of a starved wolf.

And it’s quiet, it’s so quiet that it makes that unease grow. You’re repeating Ghost’s words in your head like a strange mantra.

Somethin’s got its eye on you, lovie.

Why didn’t he elaborate? Did he even know? Could he know?

The house settles, a floorboard creaks loudly and that’s enough to spur you to hide away in your room, at least until Kate returns.

Your room feels like small sanctuary as you shut the door behind you and let out a shaky breath. The calm is only interrupted when you notice the dead sparrow lying neatly atop your bedsheets, it’s wings spread out, feet tucked against its tiny body and it’s eyes closed. It looked peaceful, not brutally marred and yet the sight alone pulls a gasp from your throat as your eyes grow wide.

Something had been in your room. Someone had been in your room.

Was the dead bird a threat? A gift? You couldn’t be certain, but you glove your hands and bury it in the backyard, eyes carefully scanning the tree line every so often as a chill runs down each knob of your spine. You’ve heard mentions of the fair folk your entire life, in books and film, but those stories all felt so nonsensical and sweet compared to the here and now. Were they not supposed to simply be little people donning butterfly’s wings? Fluttering about thick oak trees and being birthed from flower bulbs? Kate’s ‘neighbors’ looked and felt the part of demons by comparison.

If not for Ghost’s existence, you would think this all was her doing, that perhaps she was more eccentric than you had realized. You’re scared, you’re alone here in the country, and it seemed as though these strange occurrences would just be your new day-to-day. As normal as a walk to the subway, as ordering your coffee from a local cafe. You pat the small grave with the spade once as you rise to your feet to head inside to wash your sheets.

— — —

You don’t remember falling asleep, memory only supplying you placing your sheets in the washer with a slight grimace on your face. But you wake, you wake to the dim light of the moon basking your room in a hazy, milky glow. You can feel the presence of a blanket covering your lower half, but you’ve hardly time to question how it got there at all.

A long, muscular arm curls around your middle, inviting in a cold, billowing wave of fear to wash over your bones. Ghost?, you wonder in silence, but the thought immediately dissipates as you feel the figure shift closer behind you, tucking you further against himself. Ghost was big, but this person was somehow larger. Impossibly so. You part your lips to scream, but not a sound comes out. You feel as though your voice itself has been snatched away from your throat. “Shh,” a voice hisses into your ear, the feeling of fabric moving over your face as the man behind you tilts his head to look you over.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I won’t hurt you,” the voice continues, somehow both gravely and light as he speaks. It’s unfamiliar, entirely unfamiliar. He sounds unhinged in a way your fretful mind can’t even begin to voice, and surely, he must be. Climbing into bed with a stranger, pulling someone you’ve never met so closely to you… why would anyone in their right mind do that?!

You manage to find your voice when the man lowers his head to the crown of yours, deeply inhaling as his grip around you tightens. “What the hell are you doing?” You try to sound assertive, truly, but it comes out as a small squeak, anxiously wavering with each syllable uttered.

“You smell like honeysuckle.”

Was Kate back yet? If you screamed would she come sprinting through to door to rid this beast of a man from your bed? Your thoughts are like a roaring storm in your head just before you feel the gentle brush of lips, hidden beneath some veil, against your cheek and the figure pulls away to settle against your pillow with a soft huff of breath.

“Your heart is racing like a little hase. Calm down.”

“Stop. Please.” Your voice cracks again. Through the dim light of the moon seeping through your window you make out the sight of a clawed hand resting over your tummy. Thick, black keratin gently splayed over the fabric of your shirt, grip firm but not tight enough to cause injury. Your breath catches, the stranger let’s out an airy laugh, tries to pull you closer once again. You’re so entwined that it’s for naught, you’re only grateful he was gentle. The thought of those claws splitting you open surfaces just before he shushes you again.

“I won’t hurt you,” he repeats as if sensing your unease. You can almost detect the dejection in his voice, as though he knows, knows that you’re catching glimpses of a monster, a sight he couldn’t change. It’s gone so quickly you think you’ve imagined it. His thumb moves languidly to trace a circle along your sternum, trying to soothe.

“What do you want?” Your voice was a low hiss, eyes darting from his hand to the wall in front of you. The courage to twist in his grip and face him wasn’t there, your imagination running wild with possibilities of the rest of him like stills from a horror film.

“To hold you.” Simple sentences do nothing to make his voice sound calm, the man is practically trembling as his hand moves to your hip to trace a pattern there, clawed fingertips dancing over a hint of exposed flesh. His other arm shifts to fit beneath your neck, you can see the taut muscle, the veins there as he moves it to curl over your chest, his breathing uneven and deep. The sound was familiar, the same sound you had heard when you felt the dip in your mattress a few nights prior. “Just to hold you.”

And this, despite how horrific and strange, is oddly comforting. Your mind has been plagued with anxieties caused by the unseen for days on end, and you can’t even recall the last time you’ve been held like this, if ever. So tender, so warm. The man behind you quietly hums the tune of a song that isn’t familiar, but feels as though it were just behind you. His fingers continue to delicately trace small shapes against you, warm paths of connecting points, some angular, some smooth. Despite yourself, you find you’re lulled into a deep sleep filled with dreams of fall forests, of unknowns with sharp teeth and fierce eyes. A song, dancing naked in groves, a man with eyes like an ice covered stream.

When you wake, you find your bed empty apart from your own person, and a fully bloomed lily in your windowsill. 

[yeosanitycheck]

hi:))

I was wondering if you could make something with ot8 ateez having a caribbean so/. I just think that it would be interesting to see.

If you so make this thank you alot

-🌥

hi!! i really enjoyed writing this. ty for requesting, i hope u like it <3

bf!ateez with a Caribbean significant other

pairing: bf!ateez x caribbean reader

warnings!: none, fluff

a/n: im in the process of finishing up current requests!! then i have another text fic coming up :)

hongjoong🌶️

The relationship with Hongjoong feels like a continuous exchange of artistic ideas. He’s intrigued when you introduce him to Caribbean beats—especially reggae and soca. He can’t help but play around with the rhythms, blending them with his own music. One evening, as you both sit by the beach, he plays a melody he’s been working on—a fusion of traditional Korean sounds mixed with a hint of reggae.

Hongjoong: nervously, holding his breath “I... I hope I did it justice. Do you like it?”

As the first few notes play, you smile and start dancing, feeling the beat blend both cultures perfectly.

You: grinning “Hongjoong, it’s amazing! You really listened—you got it so right!”

Hongjoong: relieved, lighting up “Really? That means everything. So, should we add lyrics together? Korean and... maybe a bit of Patois?”

This collaboration becomes something you both do regularly, and soon, he surprises you with a track dedicated to the beauty of Caribbean culture and his love for it.

—

seonghwa🧚

Seonghwa is the type to become a true student of your culture, eagerly asking you to teach him your language and food traditions. His first big step? Definitely mastering a family recipe. He watches you intently as you walk him through the steps of making jerk chicken or curry goat, jotting down notes and even taking videos to get it right.

Later, he surprises you with a full Caribbean-inspired dinner, complete with homemade roti.

Seonghwa: nervously, serving you “I... I did my best. I hope it tastes just right.”

You take a bite and nod with approval, savoring the flavors.

You: smiling “Seonghwa, it’s perfect. You really got it down!”

His face breaks into a wide smile, and it warms your heart that he cherishes these parts of your life.

—

yunho☂️

Yunho loves the excitement of Caribbean festivals, especially Carnival. When he finds out you’re planning to attend this year, he’s beyond thrilled and insists on joining. He goes all out, even asking for costume tips and trying to get the dance moves just right.

On Carnival day, he’s like a kid in a candy store, soaking up the colors, music, and energy. You notice how he draws people in with his infectious laughter, becoming the life of the parade.

Yunho:  “This is incredible! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

Later, you sneak away for a moment on the sidelines, catching your breath as he pulls you close, his eyes sparkling with pure joy.

Yunho:  “Thank you for sharing this with me. Can we do it again next year?”

—

yeosang🪽

Yeosang’s quiet curiosity leads him to ask about Caribbean folklore. Under the moonlight, you start by telling him the tale of Anansi the Spider. His eyes widen, utterly enchanted by the characters and stories.

Yeosang: smiling “And he really tricked the tiger? I love how clever he is.”

When he finds out some of these stories were told to you by your grandparents, he’s even more drawn in. On lazy weekend evenings, it becomes a routine for you both to share stories, and he insists on a new one each time, sometimes even adding his own twist.

Yeosang: grinning mischievously “What if Anansi had a little help this time?”

You laugh at his imaginative additions, feeling the magic of the tales all over again.

—

San🗻

San is immediately drawn to your family’s warmth and community spirit. During your family’s big cookout, he jumps right in, chatting with everyone, from your younger cousins to your grandparents.  He’s fascinated by the different flavors and insists on helping out in the kitchen, peppering your relatives with questions about recipes and traditions.

San: enthusiastically, to your grandma “Can you teach me how to make this? I want to learn everything.”

Your grandmother takes a special liking to him, calling him her “honorary grandson.” Later, as everyone gathers for music and dancing, San joins in effortlessly, even trying out new moves.

San: whispering to you later “This is one of the happiest days of my life. I’ve never felt so at home.”

—

mingi🩰

Mingi’s excitement is contagious as you both head to the beach for some snorkeling. He’s insistent on diving right in, and his face lights up at the coral reefs and colorful fish beneath the water, even though he fumbles a bit with the snorkeling gear, he’s quick to laugh at himself.

Mingi: coming up from the water, laughing “Did you see that fish? It looked straight at me!”

Afterward, as you both relax on the shore, he chats non-stop about the experience, already planning the next adventure.

Mingi: smiling, eyes bright “What’s next? Paddleboarding? Steel drum dancing?”

His energy makes every outing feel like a new adventure.

—

wooyoung👹

When Wooyoung joins you for a family event, he’s instantly in his element, charming everyone. Your aunties can’t stop laughing at his jokes, and he has your cousins teaching him local dances. As the evening goes on, he’s fully immersed in the festivities, asking everyone about their favorite memories and foods, making each person feel seen and valued.

Wooyoung: dancing with you, laughing “Am I doing it right? Just don’t let me embarrass myself!”

The night ends with everyone declaring him an honorary family member, and he whispers to you as you both leave.

Wooyoung: gratefully “I’ve never felt this welcomed. I love your family already.”

—

jongho🧸

Unlike the bustling gatherings, Jongho’s favorite moments are the quiet ones spent exploring secluded beaches. One evening, he brings a picnic, and you watch the waves together, taking in the night air. He’s amazed by the serene beauty of the ocean at night, and it inspires him to open up to you in ways he usually doesn’t.

Jongho: softly, staring at the ocean “I’ve never felt this kind of peace before. It’s like the ocean is holding everything we’ve been through.”

You: nodding “This is where I feel closest to home.”

He squeezes your hand, grateful to share these peaceful moments with you, bonding over the beauty and simplicity of your island home.

[plum-pitt]

X-Men Origins Rewrite

Ok I guess this is a follow up to this post i made not too long ago abt rewriting this shit, the brainworms rlly got to me here so you’re getting a follow up sooner than expected lol

Before I actually do any rewriting though I wanted to lay out the big changes I’d be making and why, mainly for myself as a guide and to organize my thoughts both about the original film’s issues and how these changes could potentially solve them, but also to allow anyone else with some ideas for possible changes to add their own thoughts or suggestions by engaging with the post.

As for what kind of final product you could possibly expect these ideas to result in, i haven’t quite decided if I want to just do an in depth outline for the story with my proposed changes or do like a full length fic novelization. It’ll probably depend on how motivated I still feel about the exercise by the time I’m finished and happy with the cleaned up outline, but I digress. Lets just go ahead and get into the changes I want to make:

Proposed Changes:

First off, I’m removing Blob and Gambit from this cut. I like both of the characters and think it’s cool they tried to include them but the cast is crammed enough as it is and those two serve very little narrative purpose that can’t be shifted to others just as easily.

Second, I’m adding Silverfox to Team X and letting that serve as the meeting point for her and Logan, it gives the audience more time to get to know her and come to care for her and Logan’s relationship, while also harkening back to the comics where she was also a part of the weapon x program. Also I know this isn’t a real film but let it be known that if it were i’d actually hire a Native American actress to portray her, i’m still shitty they whitewashed her.

Third, I’m removing the third act “Silverfox wasn’t really dead” twist. I really shouldn’t have to explain why, that shit was dumb and completely unnecessary, not to mention introducing a shit ton of plot holes with that whack ass mutant ability they pull from thin air. In my version she’s human(as far as we know) and when she dies she dies for real, full stop.

Fourth, we are GETTING a biblically accurate Deadpool. They did my bro dirty and I refuse to compromise on this. His role will be larger to compensate for his big ass personality and the fact that i’m affectively letting him take up Gambit’s role from the original in addition to what he already had. Also I just think he bounces off of Logan really well and could serve as a really interesting parallel with having such similar trauma and very different ways of responding to it and seeing the world. Like just imagine D&W if they accidentally traumabonded over their similar origin stories.

Fifth, I’m making Victor our stand in for the films Weapon XI! He doesnt get adamantium or new powers like Wade, only the dehumanizing psychological torture present in the original Weapon X comic. I think it works great for his spiraling arc, gives me a chance to squeeze a faithful weapon X adaptation in here without upending the entire film’s structure, and helps to better position his character on a trajectory towards his more feral appearance in X1 where he doesn’t seem to fully recognize Logan.

Sixth, I’d like to include Dr. Cornelius as the head scientist in Weapon X. My current concept is that he’s in charge of all the unethical mutant capturing and experimenting, working under Stryker’s supervision but still an outsider to the government, being sent in by Stryker’s most significant source of funding for his program in Nathaniel Essex. I know this has zero basis in canon I just think it sounds cool and makes sense for Sinister to have hands in a program aiming to create perfect mutant soldiers, as someone using mutants DNA to create a genetically perfect race of superhumans and become the ultimate life form. (Sinister would not play a large role, more of a looming presence pulling strings and fucking people over)

To get more overarching here, I wanted to hone in on the dynamics and themes present in the original that i thought had the most potential for further development. Victor’s spiral to madness and eventual complete loss of self under Stryker, Logan learning to let go of Victor’s influence and the violence that he let define his life only for both to drag him back after Silverfox’s demise. Really digging into that nature vs nurture shit, and adding more mutant politics (and their accompanying metaphors for the struggles of marginalized people) cuz honestly i feel like it’s absence in the original is very noticeable, and ties in really well with Logan’s arc of self acceptance and learning to see himself as more than the violent nature of his mutation.

Stuff I Still Want Changed:

Ok so here’s where I’m throwing my hat out for suggestions, because there are still a couple minor things present in the movie that i’m just not a fan of or don’t really know what to do with. The difference is, with these I can’t really think of tweaks that could fix/improve them. So if yall have any ideas on what I can do about these, or maybe some completely unrelated changes that you just think could improve the rewrite, please let me know.

One, not really sure what to do with Zero, he’s around for a lot of the movie but didn’t really stand out much to me. I just don’t know a lot about the character or what his deal is in the comics to find something cool to do with him. I’m going back and forth on if his role is ultimately necessary?? Does Stryker really need another henchman? Or should I use the space he occupies to hone in more on Victor and Logan’s rivalry? Idk i’m still on the fence so tell me what yall think.

Two, god I just fucking hate those memory wiping adamantium bullets. It’s such a stupid plot device that makes no sense conceptually and was clearly just thrown in as an afterthought at the last second like the writers forgot they needed to erase his memory by the end. That’s not to mention the fact that the bullets’ function was retconned later in Logan. Genuinely though I cannot find another way to go about fucking up Logan’s head without basically upending the structure of this movie in its entirety so any ideas on how to solve this dilemma are appreciated.

[sapphicscholar]

Hacks Episode 3x09 Thoughts

Okay, so back during S2, I wrote up my thoughts about each pair of Hacks episodes as they dropped – partially for sharing but largely as an archive for myself of my own thoughts/feelings to revisit when I watched the episodes later to see how they held up, how it compared to watch them serially vs. as a whole season, etc. Anyway, I was incredibly stressed out and busy for much of this season (after over a year of that being the key set of words to describe my life), but I wanted to throw out my thoughts about the finale before they grow too stale! And maybe I’ll come back and revisit the prior episodes in posts later when I have the time (hopefully in just a couple short weeks!) to enjoy them properly

As always, disjointed bulleted lists are the name of the game, going from the big picture to the detailed:

Overall, this felt like a very solid episode in the vein of season 1 in many ways! It brought us back to the interpersonal as the primary ground of conflict after many episodes (here and in S2) of the new hour, the special, and the Late Night host gig quest being our main plot drivers (which, at many times, made for weaker storytelling for reasons that exceed the scope of this post!). In particular, I felt like this episode hit its stride around the halfway point, and never really faltered after that in impressive ways!

That being said, I had two somewhat significant critiques of the finale (both of which reflect larger trends about strands of the show that continue to leave me a little disappointed)

We should have seen Marcus' conversation with Deborah about the new job. Period. I'll get into what could have been cut in my second critique, but even if there weren't weak spots in the episode, I still would have been deeply disappointed in the show for this oversight, especially since they apparently filmed it. Although Hacks is clearly a show with a leading duo, it once had a core ensemble, but S2 saw them moved more and more to B-plots and bit roles, and now S3 has seen many of the characters we know and love eliminated almost entirely--a point that's particularly galling given that it's almost entirely characters of color (many of them canonically queer) who have been cut in favor of new white characters. Moreover, this scene would have been SO IMPORTANT - I could have seen it going 2 ways: a) Marcus quits after the convo where Deborah tells Ava she's willing to lose her, and Deborah has a reaction that is so utterly outsized because it's the terror of losing the person she's had with her the longest now compounded with the reality setting in that she's also driven away the woman who gave her new life when she most needed it; or b) Marcus shows up to quit, and Deborah immediately launches into a rant about Ava's leaving, which puts Marcus in the awkward spot of adding to that at a pivotal moment in the career of the woman he's spent much of his adult life with or giving up something he needs to do for himself; it could have been a lovely callback to S1 when he shows up with his whole speech prepared but then accepts the promotion without ever telling Deborah how he feels - only this time Marcus would have changed so much, and he'd have the opportunity to showcase that growth by insisting that he needs to do this for him. So many lost opportunities...

re what could have been cut because imo it did NOT work: Kathy Vance's return. Now, I love Hacks in large part because it insists on the complexity of its characters. No one is purely the victim or the hero of the story, and Deborah's "click" moment showcased that better than anything. AND YET the writing here did not work. Back in the Christmas ep, I messaged a friend saying I was glad that they brought Kathy back but seemed not to ask us to side with her - after all, she comes crashing back into Deborah's life, doesn't take ownership over her actions and in fact insists she was in the right because it only happened a few times, because Deborah wasn't sleeping with him (very "you weren't playing with it, so it's mine now" little sister energy that is deeply unappealing in a grown ass adult), and because they were the "better couple" which is, I'm sorry, NEVER the fucking thing to tell someone whose marriage and life you destroyed. I joked then that I'd take back my compliments if her role in the finale suggested that actually we should be on Kathy's side here. And lo and behold... What's a real bummer is that there were ways to do this better! Because you can have sympathy for an imperfect character--this show is a testament to that fact!--but not like this. We as an audience have no reason to side with Kathy when she insists that Deborah will be worse than ever and berates her for cutting their weekend short. Instead, we see a woman with a large sense of entitlement she's done nothing to earn and directorial choices that don't make it a smooth transition. But what could have been lovely is, for instance, treating the Christmas and finale reunions as these deflationary moments of anticipation and disappointment because they are, after this many decades, essentially strangers to one another. Had we seen two women who longed for the deep affective ties of their childhood relationship only to be confronted with the cold hard fact of their estrangement from one anther, it would have been so much more powerful. And here you could ACTUALLY garner sympathy (some) for Kathy by having it be this moment of "I lost my sister" partially through her own actions "to Late Night once, and now, right when I have a chance to try to build something with her again, I feel like I'm going to lose her again before I can even really try to do right by her this go around." THAT could have worked. This was just too much time on something that did almost nothing in the grand scheme of the plot (because we didn't have the emotional connection to feel it as another compounding loss for Deborah in an episode where Ava's "and you're going to die alone" could have landed with even more force)

Okay so it turns out this is getting hella fucking long, so some shorter praise and giddy feelings things:

I LOVE how often Ava got to say the things we've all been squeeing about for years during this episode - especially that the material is good because of their relationship, not the other way around; their dynamic is not incidental to the work, and that's so important to me personally.

I had guessed that Ava would be offered head writer and quit her current job, only to have it taken away because Deborah was too scared to rock the boat, but I did NOT see the end coming! In fact, I kind of thought Ava might end up suing Deborah for intellectual property theft (using material Ava wrote outside of her contractual appointment for the new show because, surprise surprise, the writers who sucked when she was a guest still suck now compared to Ava!) In fact, I sort of thought that end scene might end up being a return to the car scene, and was relishing the thought of Ava's mimicking Deb's "It'll be fun, honey." But the blackmail as a form of love/devotion was soooo much better. Truly chef's kiss.

Also the way this rewrote the S2 finale even as the underlying message remained the same is so special to me - I'll stay with you even when it's bad for me (sacrificing my career -> sacrificing my morals) because it's good for you and more importantly it's good for us and the work. JPL know how to write a finale, and I'd give up a kidney to have that same energy be there throughout a whole season again (not that the eps are bad, but they lack some of the sharpness in writing and emotional depth that JPL do so well with finales and also often with the first couple eps of a season too)

Lastly JPL going on the record that Deborah was turned on by that final scene + Ava's "I would, wouldn't you?" and "Let's begin" - truly some of the hottest TV. We're so back babyyy. No more half naked superheroes with all the eroticism of a desk chair. Give me messy women determined to fling themselves into the air because they know the thrill is worth everything good and safe they're leaving behind, even if they hit the ground with no parachute!

I have many, many thoughts about S3 and what's to come, but I'll save them for another post because phewww this got long as fuck

[canon-in-too-deep]

Fonts Part 2: Drop Caps

Continuing on from my last post on body fonts, I thought I'd do a little highlight of some great fonts to use for drop caps.

I love drop caps. Drop 'em like it's hot, amiright? Big and dramatic and so very eye catching, a drop cap is a great way to start a new chapter.

See below the break for my full post on drop caps. Links will be provided to where you can get the fonts discussed for free. Beverages and snacks will be bring-your-own only. This is an amateur session. If you're looking for profession opinions and tips, uh, you've come to the wrong place.

So when I'm adding drop caps to any text, I always figure out what body font I'm using first. The body font is like the main course of the meal, and the drop cap is the fine wine I'm trying to pair with it. After all, you wouldn't have a nice chianti with a tuna salad, would you? (I wouldn't actually know. I don't drink wine. But I still wouldn't pair comic sans with anything) It's all down to preference, of course, but some combinations just work more easily than others.

First off, if the body font I'm working with is a bit fancier and more detailed (like IM FELL English), I'll usually just use that same font for the drop caps. Using the same font for the body text and the drop caps can look great and be very aesthetically pleasing, as it gives the overall text a clean, consistent, and balanced appearance. Having the same font for different uses throughout a text while varying the font's size and weight and format is a great way to design something pleasing to the eye and not overwhelm or confuse the reader (and it'll save yourself some time, too. Honestly, picking designs and fonts take up quite a significant portion of my typesetting time).

It's like instead of adding toppings to your ice cream, you just put on another scoop of vanilla. Delicious, and classic. You'll also notice that I use small caps in the first line along with the drop cap. I usually do either the entire first line, or just the first 3-5 initial words marked as small caps. I like small caps with a drop cap. It's like an extra dollop of whip cream on top of your ice cream. Not necessary, but still yummy. ...

Of course, choosing a font that's different from your body font to use for your drop caps can be super fun and dramatic. It'll make your text stand out even more, and can add a lot of character to a design. I've seen some really creative uses of drop caps with graphics/ornaments added in, but for this post I'm sticking to just the fonts.

This one here uses Initials TFB. Initials TFB is one of my favorite fonts to use for drop caps. This font has a lot of really nice detail to it. It's gothic. Fancy. Super duper dressed up. And it's square shaped! Which means it's easy to format and place in your text and won't stick out where it's not wanted. It's like a really nice clip on time. Perfect for formal occasions and convenient to use. (And those occasions can range easily from the classic to gothic to romantic to fantastic.)

Next is another square, gothic font! May I present, her majesty, Medieval Victoriana? Now, this one is pretty similar to Initials TFB, but it has a different vibe to it than the previous font. Also super detailed and fancy, the designs for Medieval Victoriana are a bit cleaner and crisper. It's available in two styles, one with the letter in the center white filled, and one with it black filled (as pictured above).

And now we have something different! Not square shaped! ...Though still gothic (I use a LOT of gothic fonts. They just work so well for so many books! Makes me feel like a medieval monk scribing away). This font is Augusta. It's a medium sort of fancy. Not as full on, in your face as the previous two fonts, but still enough to get into the grand ballroom without making a scene. What I like about this font is that it has a lot of character and flare, but is still decently legible and not so overpowering that it takes too much away from the body font. Augusta also has some very nice lower case letters, making it also a great font for headers and titles (which you might want to pair up with your drop caps, to limit the number of fonts used on a single page). Well dressed and versatile, this font could be a British super spy undercover at the bar. If that bar was behind a medieval printing press.

Cloister Black is like the last font, but with a half dozen more points dropped into fancy smanciness. It's got a lot more going on, and can hit that medieval vibe just as easily as it can groove to a newsstand. It may be a bit harder to tell what letter has been drop capitized, but hey, readers should be able to figure it out from context clues, right? Sometimes legibility is the price of swag, as the hip cool kids say.

This next font is WW2Blackletter, which comes in two different versions (as pictured above): pointy bottom version, or swoopy bottom version. WW2Blackletter is a super duper fun font, and very unique. Just look at that sucker. Lots of character. Grungy. Gritty. Daring you to walk to through the dark forest to the black castle on the night of the full moon. It's definitely a font that requires careful pairing with the right story. Kind of like a guest that shows up covered in fake blood, dressed in all black with a cloak and a set of plastic fangs in their mouth. On any other day, it might seem out of place. But for Halloween, it's perfect.

Okay, now for something a little more different. Takota is a nice brush stroke font. Simple and straight to the point, very bold, easy to read, and works well for more modern texts. Just looking at this drop cap, you can practically feel the thick ol' paintbrush in your head, bristles dripping with fresh paint, as you delicately tap that 'T' key on your keyboard.

I had to of course include at least one script font with some nice swoopy cursive letters. This is Exmouth, a font which I haven't gotten a chance to use a lot of yet, but of which, I am very much enjoying the swoopiness. Fonts with exaggerated flourishes like these are great for period pieces and literary classics. They look like something a handsome gentleman suitor would sign at the end of their letter confessing their deep, unrequited love. Big swoopy cursive letters like these, however, can be a pain to work with as drop caps. They're drama queens. Queen Bees. That mean girl from that one movie that always dresses in coordinated pink. For this example here, I had to adjust the size of the drop cap and add in some extra space between the T and the H so that the drop cap wouldn't be thrusting itself into that first line. If you have the time, it can definitely be worth it to use curved/slanted drop caps like this. They just usually require a bit of fandangling to play nice with the other letters.

... Aaaand that brings up to the end of the list! I was actually going to include some more fonts, but I think this post has reached enough heights as a wall 😅 (maybe I'll have to do a Part 2.5). I was also a bit more limited in what fonts I could recommend, as I wanted to make sure they were all 100% free for use, personal or commercial. If you made it to the end, thanks for reading, and I hope this was helpful!

[clau1r9i]

The Complex Interaction Between Insecurity and Friendship: Alice Swayne and Chise Hatori

ok so this post has been sponsored by @thornswoggled who has asked me to write about this (hiiii)

This is a post about an analysis that I wrote years ago to which I have added the part about how Alice would react if she knew the relationship between Chise and Joseph (you can skip everything and go to the end and get to that paragraph but you will not find new information either, I recommend read all for more context)

Ok i have to apologize, this is very long, i can´t do short things i just can´t i tried so get comfy

let´s staaart!

Introduction

This essay explores the psychological scars left by Alice's childhood, the common characteristics she shares with Chise, and the potential for rivalry between them as their relationships and place in society evolve.

The Psychological Impact of Alice's Troubling Past

Alice Swayne's personality is deeply influenced by her traumatic childhood, which can be understood in terms of *post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD)* and *attachment disorder*. Abandoned at a young age and forced to survive in a dangerous environment, Alice developed a strong sense of loyalty, particularly towards Mikhail Renfred, who rescued her. However, this loyalty is accompanied by deep insecurities and a persistent fear of abandonment, typical manifestations of *avoidant attachment disorder*. Her childhood experiences may have caused psychological issues such as low self-esteem, anxiety, and a strong need for approval, characteristics of *dependent personality disorder*. These insecurities drive her to constantly prove her worth, sometimes at the expense of her own well-being. The trauma of her early life leaves her vulnerable to feelings of inadequacy and fear of being replaced or forgotten, especially by those she values most.

It can also be noted that this combination of issues may result in difficulty forming healthy relationships, hypervigilance, and feelings of guilt and shame regarding past attitudes and reactions.

Similarities Between Alice and Chise

Despite their different backgrounds, Alice and Chise share several significant characteristics that form the basis of their friendship. Both have endured painful pasts marked by abandonment and a longing for acceptance, which can be related to the concept of *existential loneliness*. This shared history creates an implicit understanding between them, as both know the pain of loneliness and the desire to find a place where they truly belong.

Their loyalty and devotion to their respective mentors, Renfred and Elias, also connect them, and both characters are willing to make significant sacrifices for the people they care about. Furthermore, both Alice and Chise struggle with insecurity and low self-esteem, often questioning their own worth. This shared vulnerability allows them to empathize with each other's difficulties and provide support when one of them doubts, which is an example of *social and emotional support*.

The progression of their relationship can be schematically outlined as follows:

Stages of Their Friendship:

Initial Distrust:

Description: When Alice and Chise first meet, there is evident distrust and rivalry, especially from Alice. This is partly due to Alice's insecurity and fear that Chise might be a threat to Renfred or that she might not be worthy of his time.

Respect and Recognition:

Description: As they interact more, Alice begins to see Chise in a different light. She recognizes her strength and value. This changes her initial perception.

Mutual Support:

Description: As their friendship deepens, Alice and Chise begin to support each other in times of need. Both have difficult pasts and find comfort in their mutual understanding. This mutual support allows them to grow both emotionally and personally.

There came a point where Alice found something she thought she would never find, someone she believed was similar to her, with a very similar past and seemingly similar traumatic consequences, which is why Alice makes an effort to guide and care for Chise. Essentially, we can see in the way Alice treats Chise the same relationship that exists between Chise and Philomela, albeit on a much smaller scale. However, thinking of someone as being just like you is a notion that can easily shift from love to hatred, and thus it should be discarded immediately. Someone can be very similar to you, but never identical. 

The consequences of this way of thinking are evident in the following.

Potential for Rivalry: Alice's Perspective on Chise

Despite the strong foundation of their friendship, the relationship between Alice and Chise is not without its challenges.

Initially, Alice might have viewed Chise as a competitor, particularly because Chise possesses unique and powerful abilities like Sleigh Beggy, which distinguish and make her valuable in a way that Alice might envy. The fact that nearly all characters show such interest in Chise could exacerbate Alice's fears of inadequacy, leading her to see Chise as a rival seeking approval and recognition, a phenomenon that can be understood in terms of *performance anxiety* and *evaluation sensitivity*.

An additional factor that could intensify the perception of rivalry is the apparent ease with which Chise forms and maintains friendships. Unlike Alice, who has struggled to establish deep and lasting connections due to her traumatic past and insecurities, Chise seems to have greater success in forming meaningful bonds with others. This perception that Chise has an innate ability to connect with people might make Alice feel more insecure, as she could interpret it as a lack of social skills in herself, which may be associated with *difficulties in forming interpersonal relationships* and *social inadequacy*.

The potential rivalry might also be fueled by differences in the nature of their relationships with their respective mentors. While Chise has a more emotional and close relationship with Elias, Alice’s relationship with Renfred, from Alice's perspective, is more professional and based on proving her worth (which she dislikes), reflecting an *anxious attachment disorder*, whereas from Renfred's point of view, it is a paternalistic relationship. Alice might feel that Chise has an advantage in receiving emotional support and guidance, which could make Alice feel neglected or undervalued in comparison.

Additionally, Alice might perceive that Chise is achieving what she herself desires: a sense of belonging and unconditional acceptance, something Alice has longed for but has not always received from Renfred in the way she wishes. This perception could heighten her feelings of rivalry, as Alice might fear that, in the eyes of her mentors, Chise is occupying a place she herself wishes to have, a sentiment that could be interpreted as *fear of rejection* and *self-image insecurity*.

All these terms can be encompassed under social comparison and intrapersonal jealousy.

The person Alice initially sees as her equal begins to have a seemingly better life than hers, a life and environment that forgives all mistakes, while Alice feels stuck, with stagnant personal relationships, and her mistakes come at a high price (Alice couldn't defend Renfred and as a result lost his arm, an arm that will not grow back).

Given all this, and considering the recent trending discussion here about Joseph/Cartafilus,

What would happen if Alice discovered that Chise is protecting and hiding Joseph?

The discovery that Chise is protecting Joseph/Cartafilus, a figure who has caused Alice significant harm, adds a complex layer to Alice's internal conflict. Joseph/Cartafilus represents pain and betrayal for Alice, and his presence in Chise's life might be seen as a personal betrayal by Alice. She could be overwhelmed by anger and frustration upon seeing Chise defend someone who has hurt her, intensifying her feelings of mistrust and insecurity. This act could make Alice feel excluded and dismissed, perceiving that Chise does not fully recognize the negative impact Joseph has had on her life. Additionally, Alice might face a profound internal conflict between maintaining her friendship with Chise and protecting herself from those who have caused her harm, which could trigger an identity crisis and doubts about Chise's loyalty. This would be a significant shock, potentially exacerbated by Chise's response or even if she chooses to remain silent.

[sensitivehandsomeactionman]

Rewatched 1x03 Dead in the Water (this is a really long one, so I added a "read more" break)

This episode 100% gobsmacked me in the face with Jensen's beauty all the way through. It's unreal, shocking. There's a simple mystery story, but the real mystery is how anyone can have a normal conversation with that face in the room? Thank you, Kim Manners.

Thank you also for the bleak mood of the story. Several unsolved deaths and a failing dam; the townsfolk seem puzzled and depressed in their dreary surroundings. It has the aura of a deteriorating Rust Belt town already mourning its impending doom.

Sam is impatient to follow the (nonexistent?) trail to Dad. Dean has to persuade Sam to do the monster of the week as this town is vaguely "along the way." Silly excuses for a MOTW aside, I do like that character-wise, pretty consistently throughout the series, Dean is a "trust the process" guy. When he's at a loss, he'll revert to the familiar steps of the hunt till there's another lead or inspiration hits. Very workman-like. (By season 7 it morphs into a more existential "fake it till you make it" survival strategy.)

We move on to them hitting the road in the gleaming Impala. Flirty Dean at the diner becomes flirty Dean at the sheriff's office. Andrea isn't buying what he's selling, and we get a little light comedy. Sam's "Name three children that you even know" is a nice bit of misdirection to imply Dean has no connection to kids. We and Sam are about to learn differently.

Sam's research uncovers that Lucas witnessed his Dad's death, setting up a parallel to Dean's loss of Mary. Dean's attention gravitates to Lucas, and his empathy opens a window for us into Dean's own childhood trauma. When Lucas gives Dean a drawing, I feel like Andrea's look of surprise towards Dean mirrors our own. Maybe there's more to him than that brash beauty.

There's a hint that Lucas has premonitions -- I love that they're laying the groundwork for premonitions, soon to be significant for Sam -- and can give them clues through his drawings. Dean's confession about being scared and thinking his Mom would want him to be brave is delivered with honesty, almost matter-of-fact. It's all the more poignant. I think it easily taps into how we all remember the loneliness of childhood sadness as well as the instinctive desire at that age to make our parents proud. This time instead of Andrea we get to see Sam register surprise at this reveal from Dean.

Giant Sam is able to pull nude Andrea from the haunted bath. I'm a bit distracted by the technical need to not reveal too much of her body, and I can't help but worry about actresses being put into those circumstances during filming. More memorable is Dean saving Lucas because of that emotional connection between them. I love the physicality that J2 imbue into the action, especially when they're clearly doing their own stunts. 

The first two episodes seemed to be pulling Sam into a reckoning with his past, and while he's not the emotional center of this episode, he's our proxy. Sam is seeing his brother in a new light. It's the same when you're a young adult, re-examining your childhood memories and finding a new perspective on and context for things you long took for granted to be true.

The two brothers together pulling a dead child's buried bicycle from its grave is a chilling visual on loss of innocence, and a fitting metaphor for how their work is unburying their own past along their way to rediscover Dad, their family. And the message here is that the violence didn't stay dead and buried; it needed to be acknowledged and reckoned with to stop the cycle. Psychologically satisfying.

Some echoes from the previous episodes: bathtub danger, creepy ghost kids, bereft and fatally flawed parents, a grateful pretty woman giving Dean a farewell kiss, a rock song sendoff. Toy green army men are connected to Dean's childhood. It was fun to see Amy Acker, as I really enjoyed her in Angel.

I love the melancholy of this episode. The filming is intimate and assured, full of dark rooms, quiet conversations, and grief. Noir shadows highlight Dean's stunning face, which I continue to gif in attempts to hold onto that wonder a few seconds longer. I love all the groundwork this episode lays for the mytharc while being a satisfying standalone ep. Jensen's acting with Lucas, and Jared and Amy's reactions to Dean bring an unexpected, deeper dimension to Dean. The story has begun to roll on the Getting-to-Know-Dean track, and I'm always ready to hop on this ride.

[uniquexusposts]

Her || Charles Leclerc

Main characters: Charles Leclerc x OC Genre: fanfiction, fluff  Story type: novel  Part: 11/? Word count: 3089 Co writer: @mistrose23

Story summary: Matilde Jørgensen, the new Scuderia Ferrari team principal, faced the nerve-wracking challenge of reviving the team's fortunes and aiming for a championship. Leading a historic team as a 'newbie' and separating her work and personal opinions posed a significant challenge. The big question: is she capable to do so?

Previous chapter

Chapter 9. Night Guards

The Ferrari Factory was cloaked in darkness as Matilde's car glided to a halt in the parking lot. The moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the iconic factory campus.

With a sigh and a hint of exhaustion, she stepped out of her car. Nerves travelled through her body. After last weekend's situation, she wasn't sure if she wanted to continue her role at Ferrari. However, it didn't feel right to drop everything and leave after only five races. She grabbed her bag from the backseat and locked her car, walking towards the entrance. The factory grounds were quiet at this hour, devoid of the usual hustle and bustle that defined the daylight hours. The parking lot, which was typically teeming with cars and personnel, now held just a handful of vehicles.

Instead of entering the office building, she entered the factory building. She scanned her pass and got in. Matilde exchanged greetings with the guard, who was happy to see her. The man congratulated the woman on the win, and they shared a few words about the race weekend.

After a quick security check, she continued her way to the canteen. Matilde just started to get to know this building. She ran her hand through her hair and yawned. Even though she was still living in the American time zone, she was getting tired because of the darkness outside.

"You are a real warrior," Mario, the manager of the night shift, said when Matilde entered the canteen. The entire night crew looked at the team principal, who was standing in front of them. "I didn't receive a cancellation, but we didn't expect you to still show up for the night shift."

Matilde scanned every person in the room, waiting for their reaction. Would they react the same as the racetrack team? She didn't know it anymore, she didn't know who was genuine and who wasn't.

"You just had a race in America and you are already here," Angelo added, a mechanic.

Everyone looked surprised to see Matilde, but they looked grateful at the presence of the woman. They all were drinking tea or coffee, preparing for their long night at the factory.

A fragile smile came on Matilde's face. "When I say I will be there, I will be there," she said. "I'm still in the American time zone; I will be up all night anyway. Might spend it here as well."

"Well, in that case," Mario said and got up. He made his way to the fridge and took out a white box. "Unfortunately, we cannot pop the champagne now," he said and put the box on the table. "But we can celebrate it with cake." Mario opened the box.

Matilde looked at the cake, and her lips parted. Tears flowed into her eyes when she read the text on the cream. 'Congratulations on your first win!' She looked up and glanced at Mario and then at the team. "Guys..."

"Congratulations, Matilde!"

"Your first win will always be special. We sadly couldn't be in Miami to celebrate it with you, but we will celebrate it with you now," Mario proudly smiled. "It was a perfect weekend for the team, and we couldn't be more proud of everyone."

Appreciation, that was the thing she missed during the entire weekend. How come the track team didn't even bother to ask her to join the celebration, and the night team came up with a celebration themselves? "Thank you," Matilde said. "Thank you for all your hard work, we couldn't wish for a better weekend, and that is because of your dedication and work. Grazie a tutti," she widely smiled. "Grazie ragazzi."

The night team beamed with pride as Matilde expressed her gratitude. Their cheers and applause filled the canteen, breaking the silence of the late-night hour. It was a heartfelt celebration, a sign of the strong bond that existed between the night shift team and their team principal.

Matilde's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she looked around at her colleagues. These were the unsung heroes of Ferrari, the ones who toiled through the night to ensure that every detail of the F1 operation was flawless. And they cared about everyone within the team. These were the people who kept the operation going.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Matilde approached the cake. She took a knife and began cutting slices for everyone in the canteen. The cake, a symbol of their shared achievement, was quickly devoured as the team was insulted by this midnight treat.

"So, tell us, how was this weekend?" Mario asked curiously.

Matilde shared her experiences with the people. She told about the great teamwork, the problems that were quickly solved and how everything felt like they bonded. Matilde had shared before that things weren't going smoothly within the track team, but she proudly told how things changed this weekend. Due to her professionalism, she decided not to share the moment that broke her heart. It was something she had to deal with, she didn't want to ruin their view on the rest of the team.

"And the celebrations?" Angelo asked. "Huge dinner party?"

The team principal nodded. "Yup." Her eyes met the eyes of a mechanic who was also part of the track team, who was also picking up night shifts every now and then. "It was fun." Matilde was hoping that the mechanic wouldn't ruin her reputation within this crew.

A mechanic scoffed. "Fun for the team, yes."

Her hope sank. Matilde's face straightened, and she swallowed hard. She looked down and waited for the rest of his response.

"We had a fun dinner, indeed. Until something happened," the mechanic continued. Everyone looked at him while he looked at Matilde, who was clearly feeling uncomfortable. "It turned out that our people didn't even bother to invite Matilde to the celebration dinner."

Matilde felt a mixture of surprise and trepidation as the mechanic continued to speak. She had hoped that the incident wouldn't come to light during the night shift. As the mechanic's words hung in the air, there was a moment of tense silence. Matilde could feel the eyes of the night shift team on her, assessing her reaction.

"Yes, it is true," she began, her voice steady. "There was an incident at the celebratory dinner. It wasn't the way I had hoped the evening would go. But let's not dwell on that. What matters is that we had a fantastic race weekend, and the team's performance was exceptional." She shifted the focus away from the negative moment, choosing to highlight the success. It was a delicate balance between acknowledging the issue and steering the conversation toward more positive aspects.

"Why was she not invited?" A woman blurted towards the mechanic of the track team. "How dare you say that in front of her? This is straight-up bullying!"

The eyes of the mechanic shot up to the woman. "Hey, I am not saying this to make her feel more bad; I'm saying this because what happened was not classy from our side. I had heard that Matilde couldn't be there, multiple people asked where she was, and everyone said she couldn't be there. But that wasn't true, no one invited her. And I didn't know that," he defended himself, but also Matilde. Ever since he found out that no one had invited her on purpose, he felt extremely bad about it. "The team principal always joins the celebration dinner."

Eyes shot to Matilde, who looked hurt. "I was told no one was celebrating it because of the early flight the next morning," she replied. "I was with Red Bull because my best friend works at Red Bull, and it's my old team. And my flight was leaving in the late afternoon the next day. I wanted to celebrate it," she defended herself.

Silence fell in the canteen.

"But the champagne move... Legendary," the mechanic said. "How did you dare to do that?"

"What exactly did she do?" Mario asked. He looked at Matilde. "What did you do?"

The mechanic smirked. "At some point, we all got served a glass of champagne, telling us we got the compliments from our team principal."

"How did you know that they were there?" Angelo asked Matilde.

"Apparently, I was in the same restaurant," Matilde replied. "Leclerc texted me, asking where I was, and at that moment, I saw the entire team sitting in the back of the restaurant. I already downed two shots, and I had some champagne in my system, so I don't know what I was thinking."

Chuckles and giggles filled the canteen, causing Matilde to smile lightly. Did this mean that Matilde could feel relieved?

"This is a boss ass bitch move; I love it," a young woman said, who sat in the corner of the room. "As you should, Matilde. Show them how shitty they acted. Own it."

Angelo laughed. "I must say, it's not very professional, but I would absolutely do the same if I were you in that situation. Whoever thought that it was okay not to invite you, should get fired."

"Don't give her ideas," Mario said. He thought the situation was funny because of the reaction of Matilde, but he noticed the situation was hurting her and how she lost the trust in her team. When she entered the canteen, she reacted differently. Now he understood why. It was everything but classy for his colleagues to treat her like that. "It sounds like there was a misunderstanding, Matilde. Maybe the message got lost somewhere along the way."

The woman who had spoken up earlier took a deep breath and spoke again, her voice filled with empathy. "But that doesn't excuse the fact that we should have ensured you were included."

"It isn't your fault, Valentina," Matilde responded. "You weren't there."

"But it is our team; they are our colleagues."

"I really appreciate that. Miscommunications happen, and yeah, so be it. I will pick it up tomorrow. I was in my fault, they were in their fault, and we have to talk about it." She acted like it didn't bother her that much, but the fact that these people supported her more than the people she worked with on a daily base...

"I don't like those people anyway," the young woman said. "They all act like they are better than us; meanwhile, they are taking our credits."

"Don't mind Stella. She says what we are all thinking, but we keep it in front of us, and she doesn't," Angelo replied and looked disapprovingly at her.

Matilde politely smiled at the crew. She made eye contact with the mechanic, who stood up for her. She gave him a grateful nod, which he returned with a smile and a wink. "Anyway, thank you all for your concern, but it happened; it's in the past. Let's move forward," she said, hoping the moment would pass. "And this is told in confidence. So whatever is said here, stays here. Unless you think it is inappropriate, then you know where to find the board, and I will happily have a conversation about it." She realised she had lost the authority, she didn't like authority, but she was the team principal after all.

As the night shift began, Matilde felt a warmth in her heart that transcended the exhaustion of her long journey from Miami. She was there for them, and they were there for her.

Throughout the night, Matilde worked alongside her night shift team. They discussed strategies, reviewed data and ensured that every aspect of the past race and upcoming race was discussed. Matilde picked up some office tasks, preparing for the upcoming week with briefings and meetings.

* * *

The next day, the Ferrari office was bustling with activity. The race track team got back to work after their days off after the weekend. The team had gathered for a small inauguration ceremony, a celebration of Carlos and Charles' impressive performances during the previous race weekend in Miami. It was an opportunity to recognize their achievements and boost team morale.

As the team members gathered in the massive hall of the office, there was a palpable sense of excitement in the air. Colleagues chatted, sharing their pride in the team's success.

Charles and Carlos were standing in the room next to the hall, waiting for the ceremony to start.

"Matilde will be here, too, right?" Carlos asked Charles after not having spotted the team principal. She usually was present before everyone else was at the office.

"I don't know." A frown grew on Charles' forehead. "I saw on Instagram that she was in Denmark, for her mum's birthday or something. Perhaps she's still there."

"Weird," Carlos replied.

"But maybe she's on her way."

Finally, the double doors at the hall swung open. Charles and Carlos stepped into the room, greeted by applause and cheers from their colleagues. Their smiles radiated the joy of the moment. They waved at their team.

"Ladies and gentlemen, colleagues and friends, today we gather to celebrate the remarkable achievements of our drivers: Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz!" The spokesperson of Ferrari took the task of leading this ceremony. "What a race, boys. Congratulations."

The room erupted in applause again, and Charles and Carlos exchanged smiles. However, when the ceremony continued, Charles and Carlos missed the presence of one person. Carlos was asked to say something about the weekend. It gave Charles the chance to scan the hall once again. There was still no sign of Matilde. It worried him. Did this have to do with Sunday? He still hadn't had the chance to speak with her about what had happened, as he felt extremely bad about it, but had she given up already? Charles thought about the situation a lot, and he wondered if he could have prevented it.

The sliding doors of the entrance opened. Charles' eyes shot to the person who had entered the building. He watched how she entered the building and went through security. It looked like she had no idea what was going on. The woman was wearing grey trousers and a blue, oversized button-up shirt, her hair in a low bun. She was carrying two bags and a coat. Once she entered the hall, she came to a halt. Her eyes scanned the hall.

A sense of guilt washed over Charles as their eyes met. He pursed his lips tightly, seeing the emotions written all over her face. Her expression changed from surprise to pain. Her face told stories. Then her face showed a clear message that she didn't want anyone's pity or sympathy. A few other people noticed Matilde's presence as well, being shocked to see her.

Matilde walked towards the podium, between all the people. Anger was playing a huge role in her emotions right now, but she had to ignore it and show who the team principal was. Her eyes met Galileo's, who was standing next to the podium. His eyes widened. Matilde ignored him and dumped her stuff on the ground, next to the podium. She stepped on the podium and stood next to Charles, wearing a professional smile, but her eyes showed a bitchy look. If you were standing close by, you would notice it.

Carlos ended this speech and looked at the spokesperson. His eyes fell on Matilde, who shared a smile. He smiled back, being relieved she indeed was on her way when they were waiting at the beginning.

The spokesperson looked at Matilde. "Well, once again: thank you all for being here," he said. "Matilde, good to have you here as well."

"I was not aware of this celebration," she mumbled under her breath, not knowing Charles heard her. Matilde looked at Galileo; she would have a word with him afterwards.

"Charles, we will go to you in a second, but first, a word from Matilde."

Charles handed the microphone over to the woman next to him.

A smile rested on her face. Over the weeks, she realised how good she became at acting and putting on fake smiles. "Of course, Carlos, outstanding work. It was a faultless race from your side, an almost faultless race on our side. We had an issue, but we managed to fix it in time, so I consider it a faultless race," she said and looked at Carlos. She moved her gaze to Charles. "Charles, your outstanding performances made us all proud. The way you fought with the Red Bulls and defended was just brilliant." Matilde turned to the people in front of the podium. "And you! Each and every one of you is also the reason why the team won. If you were at the track, at the factory or at home, because of you, we put out an amazing performance. It's not just about the victory, but also about the teamwork and determination of everyone. Well done, everyone. Keep up the good work." She handed the microphone to Charles.

"I agree with everything that Matilde just said," he said and chuckled. "We couldn't have done it without the dedication and hard work of every person in this room. This win is yours as much as it is ours."

The hall burst into applause again. Matilde joined in the clapping, showing that she was there for the team. Even though she had a lot of anger in her body, she recognised this moment of unity and celebration, a reminder of what they achieved together, and what they could achieve together in the future.

After the speeches, the team mingled, sharing stories and congratulations. Charles, Carlos and Matilde posed for photos with their colleagues, holding their trophies proudly. The first celebration of the season and as a team with a new team principal were enjoyed, suddenly there were no tensions left.

Matilde stepped down the stage and collected her stuff. It was not even nine hours after the end of the night shift; she wasn't even supposed to be here for another two hours. She walked away from the celebrations, and she wanted to leave the hall, until someone stopped her.

"We have a board meeting scheduled."

Another thing she wasn't aware of. Matilde smiled. "I will be there," she said. She was open to attending the meeting two hours before she was allowed to start working again. "After I have spoken to my assistant."

"Everyone is waiting for you."

"I will be there," she repeated, taking a second to make clear that she would be there. "After I have seen my assistant," she said, looking the man in the eyes, giving him a stern nod and walked away. 

Next chapter

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hi. Can I request something similar to the immortals outliving you? Could it be with the rest of the characters and us passing from other causes?

Their reactions to losing you

I wasnt sure if you wanted the immortals as well, so I added them in here as well!

This is all written in one go since tumblr doesnt let me save drafts for asks so I apologize for any spelling/grammar mistakes <\3 it's like 1am rn

CONTENT WARNINGS, idk what all needs a warning but I'd rather play it VERY safe:

M*rder

M*rder revenge, almost all of them touch on it tbh, love me the revenge trope

Snorts^

D3ath, obviously

Grief and the general hurt that comes with it

In EJs case he sees your death first hand

Does violently slamming yourself around count as SH /genq, because if so that's vagued in EJs part as well

Maskys handles a hit and run but its vague

Masky also hints to a smoking addiction

Nonspecific illness in hoodies part

Slenderman;

I remember that I mentioned this for Slendermans part, but I had an idea that he already accepted that fact that you wouldn't last forever

But I don't remember if I mentioned/vagued the idea of how he'd react to you're life being forcibly cut short

Accepting the fact you'll eventually pass away does nothing when he finds out someone else was responsible for your sudden end

All that comes out is a cold rage, something that the creature hasn't experienced in a long time

Writing this, it makes me remember that clip from the first episode of castlevania where dracula appears in the fire in episode one, after they kill his wife

But instead of carelessly showing himself to the world in a fit of rage, he fiercely protects everything that you touched; his forest, your home, your grave, ect

But despite the rage he doesnt immediately take down the person who caused this

Nonono, he does what he does best; he chips away at the person's mind through stalking and paranoia, essentially tormenting them for.. god knows how long until he gets bored

When he does decide hes through with them he'll make sure their... death... is drawn out

Basically don't meddle in the life of a forest monster; he may be a very... passionate.. lover

Splendorman;

Incredibly similar to the other version of this post where he naturally outlives you

But if you pass unnaturally, he'd be even more torn up about it

His time with you was already going to be short to begin with, but it was cut down even shorter

Doesnt matter the cause; murder, illness, accident, ect.. he'll be just as broken up

There's no real significant changes; he still mourns and honors you the same way for the most part

Laughing Jack;

It was an accident; one day you were there and the next, gone

He would stay in the house for a few days, not even knowing what was going on

At first he'd be worried and confused, before those feelings would deepen into something debilitating

He'd probably eventually find out through the news, after turning on the tv to pass the time and fill the silence

His worry immediately morphs into ice cold; he could feel his heart drop

He'd throw caution to the wind and try to track down whoever did he

He doesnt care if it was an accident, he wants justice and compensation

He follows a similar route as slenderman; the only thing is, is that jack lacks the patience to draw it out

After everything is said and done he's beside himself; avenging you didnt bring him back and it hardly made him feel better

He likely just. Goes back to what he was doing before he met you; drifting from house to house and causing havoc; but now he carries a melancholic aura

Eyeless Jack;

Another story of revenge, but with a twist so his part isnt too similar to LJ and slenders

So I'll be using the idea I should've given slenderman (but I'm too stubborn to rewrite his part)

Like Slenderman, Jack is seen as a cryptid and thus, there are naturally going to be people trying to hunt him down. Especially considering before he was a cursed monster he was a normal dude who got caught up in a whole... thing... and who's body was obviously never found as it still walks

Jack is.. semi used to that; but one day he completely catches him off guard, and what's worse is that you were there when it happened

It was a group, too, usually they come in two; but there were more that day. If it were less Jack could have easily put a stop to it all

It escalated

You had tried to step in to help him, to buy him some time so he could run; but it all went wrong

I don't like going into detail about this kind of thing, so this will be up to interpretation

The whole thing flings him into a rage and he makes quick work of the remaining hunters, but it's all too late

Even if he wasn't, how could he help? He cant just leave the woods and dump you at a hospital... but he doesnt have the supplies to help you then and there... and even if he did you were both much too far away from the cabin

It just leaves him helplessly trying to stop the bleeding

He hardly ever leaves the woods after that; not even to eat

He's resorted to.. rather violently subduing the monstrous side of him that craves flesh

There's broken furniture everywhere

He blames himself

He should have had you stay in the cabin

He should have told you to run

He should have told you to hide

He should've...

The worst thing is that he begins to believe that it was his fault; afterall he let you out of his sight when he began fighting. Even worse, and perhaps stupidly, he believed this wouldn't have happened if he never met you

Its

Rough

Masky;

He just sits there, quietly

Be it shock or something else he just sits there

But his mind is going a mile a minute to try to figure out what exactly happened to you

You were.. in a wreck, and the other person just. Fled.

As feral as I tend to write and interpret masky, he can be thorough when it comes to investigating

Though I'm torn in whether or not he'd actually be able to find the person; especially because I'm kinda. Dumb when it comes to crime stuff and I'm not about to do mental gymnastics on something I'm not confident in <\3

In terms of grief, he seems... lost...

I don't usually hc that Masky smokes; that's just a Tim thing

But I feel like the smoking would bleed into Masky and become a whole... issue.. whether or not Tim as his own person knows about you/was involved with you is up to interpretation; as I tend to write the proxies as a separate.. thing

Still trying to find the correct term

But yeah

Focusing back in on Masky, he's kinda just lost. Angry, definitely, but mostly just. Wandering through life

He doesn't want to forget you

Hoodie;

Similar to Masky he's quiet and lost

Similarly he would feel the urge to try to find out who took you away; but I feel we've had enough "S/o dies at the hands of someone else" for this post, so we'll do something else... and because I fear hoodies portion will be too similar to maskys

You got sick, to put it simply

It's.. odd..

He's well aware that you're deteriorating, and he's aware that time is running out

But he can't help but feel calm in your presence; its only when you're apart that he feels that dread, and its constant

Maybe it's the fact that when he's with you he can easily convince himself that, in that moment, you're alright

It hurts when it finally happens

Out of all the guys, he's probably the most normal(?) About the situation

He visits your grave, a lot of the time, leaves little gifts there

He doesn't talk much, but he probably talks to you

Likely keeps something on him to remember you, like a locket or something

[anim-ttrpgs]

Patreon Poll and Kickstarter Funds Update

Alright, we’ve had a weekend to rest and now it’s time to get back to work. We already have almost ten new snoops done and ready to be put in the rulebook, "FORIVA: The Angel Game" is almost completely reworked and ready for patreon re-release, and we might have new merchandise coming soon.

As soon as "FORIVA: The Angel Game" is done, we still start back work on editing the finished sections of the rulebook.

I have started brainstorming work on the Living Doll playable supernatural characters type, as well as the Talking Dog and several other stretch goals.

I’ll do anything to put off finishing these examples of play..

We are still waiting on more than 60 backers to finish their backer surveys, so we aren’t sending out emails regarding the custom rewards yet, we want to try to be able to do that all at once if possible. Even if all the backer surveys had been completed, we would still wait on a lot of the emails, because we would want to confirm our funds first before we tell our team artists to get to work on custom rewards. Kickstarter won’t actually give us the money until at least 2 weeks after the end of the campaign. We plan to pay them up front, so we gotta have the money before they start seriously working on the project.

Speaking of that, there are three backers from whom Kickstarter has been unable to collect payment. At the time of writing this, this accounts for about $371 of our funding. On Friday, May 17th, if these payments have not been resolved, Kickstarter will cancel them.

That means we won’t get the money and those backers won’t get their rewards. It’s probably just a matter of the bank marking their payment as suspicious, but it needs to be resolved before May 17th. If you’re a backer and you’re reading this, please check your Kickstarter account and your email to find out, and please try to get this resolved before Friday.

Next, I’ve got to talk about our patreon. Despite the major success of the Kickstarter, patreon is an essential part of making A.N.I.M. a long-term viable career.

You can find our patreon here. Subscribing for $3 or more will give you access to our patreon discord server where you can meet the team and offer direct feedback, as well as have a vote in what our next project will be. Subsribing for $5 or more will also give you access to regular, playable updates on all of our in-progress projects.

We will of course be posting updates on our progress in finishing Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy and adding the stretch goals on Kickstarter, but if you want to actually play these updates as they come out, you can do so by supporting our patreon for as little as $5. We know some of you will jump at this opportunity to get improved beta versions of Eureka early, and some of you will just wait until final release, but for those of you who would like to get the playable updates, we have a question.

Would you rather us officially update the patreon beta copies twice a month, or once a month? There are definite pros and cons to each one and that’s one of the reasons we’re asking the fans.

Twice a Month

Pros

More frequent updates

Cons

Updates will be smaller and less significant in how much each one will improve the game materials.

Updates that come too frequently could annoy the people who are actually trying to use the beta copies for their campaigns, as they may feel like have their campaign rules changing too frequently to memorize.

Once a Month

Pros

Updates will be much bigger and more significant

Gives more time for people who are playing with the beta copies to have several sessions in between rulebook updates.

Cons

Updates less frequently

The A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club

If you would like to meet the A.N.I.M. team and even have a chance to play Eureka with us, you can join the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club discord server. It’s also just a great place to talk and discuss TTRPGs, so there is no schedule obligation, but the main purpose of it is to nominate, vote on, then read, discuss, and play different indie TTRPGs. We put playgroups together based on scheduling compatibility, so it’s all extremely flexible. This is a free discord server, separate from our patreon exclusive one. https://discord.gg/7jdP8FBPes

Free Beta Copies

If you don't want to wait, but don't want to sign up to our patreon either, then you can get an older beta copy for free on our website or itch.io page.

Other Stuff

We also have a ko-fi and merchandise if you just wanna give us more money for any reason.

[make-friends-with-the-rats]

wAIT what aboUT Mush for the ask game (omg how has no one asked, he is the boy ever!!!)

LITERAL. ANGEL.

How I feel about this character: I love Mush. Mush needs more love in this fandom because I swear to god there is never enough. (I think we all love Mush but still.) He loves his friends so much and his only fault is that he's unreasonably chipper in the mornings. I think that it's high time we recognize Mush and David's friendship because Mush is a sweetheart and went out of his way to make friends with the new kid right off the bat and he's always there making sure David is included (or not included so he doesn't get run over by dancing newsies.) Next time y'all watch Newsies (1992) I am BEGGING that you really pay attention to Mush and David's interactions because it is so important to me and to both of their characters.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Obviously Blink and Mush the soul mates of all time. You can not prove to me that they aren't canon. Not only do they have complimentary colors (pink and green, literal opposites on a color wheel) but they are also complimentary/opposites in personality. They just go so well together and they aren't fooling anyone.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: DAVID👏AND👏MUSH!!!👏 #david and mush besties agenda. Also Jack and Mush is underrated.

My unpopular opinion about this character: I'm not sure where exactly this originated, or if can really be considered unpopular, but Mush loves ducks. Also I just can not accept that Mush has ever been portrayed as a white boy. Sorry livesies fans, but Aaron Lohr all the way.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I've said this before and I'll say it again: I wish we'd gotten more of Mush and the other newsies. Realistically, the movie version was already pushing it in terms of time for Disney movies in the 1990s, but I think we deserved at least 20 extra minutes of random newsie shenanigans, don't you? And the stage musical could have given the newsies ensemble more lines. Yes the dancing is impressive but I want more characterization please! Also, in case anyone doesn't know, Mush was inspired by the real 1899 newsie Nick “Mush” Meyers. He didn't have any significant leadership role in the newsboys union, but he did preside over the rally at Irving Hall. [x] This could have been easily added to the movie and it would have made me happy.

Thank you so much for asking!!! :D

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[bichietozier-s]

🕷️Catch You On The Web!!🕸️

An Itafushi spiderman socmed au ❤️

In which Yuuji Itadori, newly a sophomore in college who still has not a clue what he wants to do with his life, gets bitten by a radioactive spider and gains new abilities, stats and powers. He's coasting on his raw athletic ability, a full-ride scholarship handed to him despite his less-than-perfect grades, when he realizes he's got way more ahead of him than he'd ever imagined. Including, but not limited to, a newfound crush that also throws him for a loop.

you are reading:

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 1.5 | Part 2 | Part 3

notes:

Relatively short part today 🙂‍↕️ but MEGUMI NEXT PART TRUSTTT - also, all texts are from yuuji's pov !!

It’s been two weeks since Yuuji was bitten by that god forsaken spider, and while the bite itself had simmered down and was no longer irritated, everything else about his body was becoming stranger and stranger. 

He’d noticed a bunch of little things that seemed to add up pretty quickly with how significant they affected his daily life. The sticky hands, being number ONE on that list. Seemingly the hardest thing to write off as a coincidence and something that was just… odd, it also wasn’t just something he could ignore when it happened, because then his hand was uncontrollably stuck to something, and he couldn’t UN stick it. The number of times that he’d been late to class over it this past week was becoming a nuisance because now, Nanami was stepping in to ask Yuuji if everything was going alright outside of class.

How was he supposed to tell him, yeah, everything’s just dandy! My hand just glues itself temporarily to random things at random points in the day, but I’m figuring it out!

He’d be sent to the nearest psychiatric ward. Or maybe, Shoko would pick apart his brain, which might just be worse.

Among the other things he’d begun to notice were things like an increase in his strength, which suddenly seemed to become inhuman. Yuta dropped his pencil when they were hanging out the other day in he and Toge’s dorm room, and Yuuji nearly threw his desk across the room when he lifted the corner so Yuta could retrieve it. 

“Holy shit, Yuuji, that definitely wasn’t necessary,” Yuta laughed awkwardly in shock at the desk which now sat on its side. All Yuuji could do was stand and stare at it, dumbfounded.

“I literally only meant to lift the corner, I’m being so serious right now,” his flat voice really showing that he didn’t even know what to make of the situation.

Yuuji also noticed his reaction times (mostly becoming apparent at his football practices) were increasing too. Something he wouldn’t normally even see coming because it was when his eyes were closed, or when his back was turned, he’d have taken care of before he even realized what he was doing. Like his body was reacting before he was.

The last thing was his oddly fast healing time. Bruises would only last a day or two, depending on the severity of the injury, and past that there’d be no evidence that there ever was an injury in the first place. This one especially was a bad thing for Yuuji of all people to deal with because that just meant he could be as reckless as he wanted and not face many consequences, if any at all. He was already a klutz and an airhead most of the time, so now he was just a ticking time bomb for stupid decisions. 

Since all of this started around the same time that Yuuji received the spider bite, he’s a tiny bit suspicious that the two are related, but he can’t reasonably put the two things together in a way that feasibly makes sense in his mind. Why would a spider bite give him weird superhuman powers???

author's note:

tehehe writing this is soooo much fun for me i rlly hope everyone feels enough in character :o and as a reminder if youd like to be added to the taglist pls dont be afraid to ask! :3c i do nawt bite 🫶🏻

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