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howisjoostfanfictionforfree · 27 days ago

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Twice as Many Shadows

Joost Klein x Vampire!reader

Real person fiction!

CW: 18+, MDNI, RPF, getting roofied, attempted sexual assault, body horror, reference to violence against animals, cannibalism, no smut yet sorry (that’s in part 3 heehee), obligatory club scenes, countless other cliches, please let me know if I’ve forgotten anything

Reader: vampire!reader, female!reader, not descriptive with reader’s appearance but I did give them a bit of personality and a backstory that I hope does not detract from the ability to self insert,,,, yeah I may have gone too hard on backstory

Other notes: Story takes place Fall of 2022,,,,Also big thanks to my irl bestie for his help identifying stray plot bunnies and big thanks to @joosthead for always encouraging me and giving me so much advice over time when it comes to writing! You’re amazing!!!

Word count: ~5,900

Real person fiction! Beware! 👻

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You’ve been so many places over the past few years but Amsterdam is a first.

The Netherlands club scene tickles you and Amsterdam is the center of it all. Bouncing from city to city and country to country has kept you sane but this place has you pausing for the first time in what feels like forever.

The energy of summer saturated the nightlife when you arrived and parties raged until the dawn. Festival season was loud and unignorable but even the mainstay clubs and bars were full to bursting for months on end. Anywhere a body could fit there was a party to accommodate.

Even now as long warm nights turn crisper and darker as summer turns to autumn, the Dutch party on and you find yourself carried away by the momentum they never seem to lose.

It’s easy to stay. Maybe it's just been long enough since you started all this that you feel like you can breathe normally. Maybe you're just far enough away.

Maybe it really is just something about Amsterdam.

You’re growing attached to this place. You dread the day you will have to leave.

He catches your eye at the club. You notice him first, of course. Can hear him from clear across the room despite the bone-rattling music and a hundred other people.

It’s a Friday night and you itch to be among the crowd. Close enough to feel like one of them and share in their moment. You wish it were yours. You will make it yours too, just like always.

Something about the exact way he looks and the exact way he speaks to his group of friends is so striking you couldn't ignore him if you tried. He jokes with an open affection that just shouldn't be possible in words chosen so crass and shouted so loud. Never have you heard ‘cancer dick’ sound like an endearment.

He is so yellow and pink and blue. Your three new favorite colors. Golden hair almost luminescent under the black lights. Cheeks as pink as his flashy jacket. Eyes bluer than the toxic looking drink in his hand.

You couldn't say whether or not he is conventionally handsome. The sight of him immediately fills a space in your brain you didn't know existed like a lock and key and bowls over your pre-existing notions of the word.

Every part of his face fits in perfect proportion to the rest in a way you have never seen and it has you floored.

There's nothing unusual about it, nothing you can put your finger on, just something absolutely entrancing.

He isn't just beautiful either. That perfect face is radiating an attitude like no one else in the room. No one else looks as happy, as carefree, as genuinely joyous. You can hear it in his words, see it in how he dances like he doesn't care who is watching. You can tell he doesn't.

How long has it been since you felt such strong attraction? It makes you stupidly nostalgic for how simple things like this might have been when you were human.

You could have flirted with him, danced with him, maybe even taken him home, gotten his number in the morning.

Now, he is everything you want, everything you want to be, and most definitely everything you can't have.

Not like that at least. He wouldn't have you.

He catches your gaze from across the floor. Yeah, you probably are staring aren’t you. But you don’t look away. One perk of your creature status is a much increased ability to not give a fuck. Even when you really really should. His eyes rove over you and his face breaks into what you would call a smirk.

You want to see it fall as you bite a chunk out of him.

Okay, time to leave. Better get out of here before you do something weird. Turning away, you weave through the crowd. You feel his eyes on you the whole way out.

Literally. Vampires can do that.

The itch of his gaze evaporates as you step out the door and reach for a cigarette. Disgusting but necessary. Perfect for blotting out all the people-smells that you’re suddenly having a harder time than usual ignoring.

The first drag is fucking toxic but it’s immediately easier not to focus on the cocktail of male sex hormones the club atmosphere provided. You wonder which are his of the dozens dancing on your tongue.

The overlap between sexual attraction and the urge to hold someone between your jaws still surprises you sometimes. Of course it isn’t always about sex. You could want to eat someone you hated just as bad. Most often it’s a complete stranger.

It’s like squares and rectangles. You might not think about fucking someone every time you need blood, but every time you do want to fuck, you also want to sink your teeth in.

If you’re being honest though, this observation is based on fairly brief encounters with fairly drunk men. In reality, you haven’t gotten any in a while. Years in fact. Literal monster behavior seems to be a bit of a turn off for most men and sexy encounters always end the moment you get a good few gulps in and their struggling makes you start to feel guilty.

You sigh. This is far from the first time you’ve wondered at this particular predicament. Why can’t a girl get some?

You flick the butt to the ground and grind it out with your heel. It’s about time to head home. You came out to have fun and you don’t actually need to feed right now. Even if you did, it would probably go poorly given the mood you’re in.

You don’t have the archetypical problem of killing people when you feed, not that you’ve never killed anyone, but the trauma level for whichever poor person you choose on a given night can vary greatly depending on your state of mind and right now you’re feeling a little worked up. It might be more bloody than usual.

Ideally, it’s always drunk people you feed on, as fucked up as that sounds, in the end they usually remember less. That or sleeping people.

God. So much noncon.

But a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. Blood banks actually ask a lot of questions and you’ve never felt like trying to intimidate a doctor into faking a condition for you, too afraid of catching their interest and becoming a science experiment.

There aren’t any vampires you've met yet that could point you in a helpful direction either. You never even got to know the vampire that turned you.

The exact circumstances of your metamorphosis were actually a bit of a mystery. You had no memory of being bitten.

One night you came-to in the middle of the street, blocks away from where you should have been, shoulder bloody, and within the hour you were crawling out of your skin as you transformed.

Outwardly, you looked no different, but that night your senses shifted and heightened and your bones and muscle tore apart and regrew stronger in far too short a time.

It was a good thing you had been alone. You had been with your friends before. It was a girls night out catching the newest Spiderman in theaters.

Sitting there on the pavement, blood seeping into your shirt, you knew there was something off and you stumbled home without finding them.

When you arrived you realized you were more than just in shock. It hurt. Everything hurt. You should have gone to the hospital. But how could you have known?

It came on fast.

By the time you knew there was something really wrong, you were too weak to make it anywhere in your agony. Too weak to even make it to your phone in your coat pocket hanging on the door.

In the end, you are glad no one got to witness what happened. What you are sure would have been beyond explanation. The sight of your own flesh writhing under your skin is unforgettable. The tiles of the kitchen floor where you collapsed took days to clean.

The only thing that kept you from totally freaking out in the moments afterward was the insane thought that maybe you had become Spiderman. As stupid as that sounds.

Not that you were a hero or anything.

That much was clear from the beginning when you stumbled outside to rip into the dog in the yard across the street after realizing you could hear your neighbors through the wall and it was making your mouth water.

Dogs are disgusting. At least it didn’t die.

You still watch Spiderman now and then on the days you're feeling a tad existential. Honestly, you wish you could be Spiderman. You don’t really know what you are.

Your heart still beats and you definitely don't sparkle, but your canines are extendable and people really do look delicious sometimes. You feel the need to feed on people but no one you've ever fed on has turned. You checked.

It would be nice if whoever bit you had stuck around to talk it out. In the end, vampire just seemed like the best word for it.

Never mind the flesh eating part.

What were you saying? Oh yeah, if you try and find someone drunk enough to not notice a little bite right now, you might accidentally decapitate them. A slight exaggeration, but still.

The worn cobblestones glitter under the amber lamplights as you make your way down the street towards the tram stop, still thinking about that perfect face.

The breeze carries a real hint of chill now, letting go of the last traces of your favorite summer since you started all this.

The shadows on the water are deeper than you remember ever seeing them. They creep up over the edges of the canals to fill the street and swallow the alley you turn down.

You make it only a few feet before a group of guys round the opposite corner and take up the entire width of the passage.

Even with the knowledge that they would ultimately move to the side, you don’t want to deal with the urges they might inspire in such a tight space. Not right now.

Somehow you’re only feeling more and more keyed up.

Making a quick decision, you turn around to head back the way you came. The thumping of the bass becomes detectable as you near the club again, rattling you physically to match your internal agitation.

You round the corner to try going up the other street this time and collide harshly with the exact person you had been looking to get away from.

What was even the point of being a vampire if you couldn’t avoid clumsy moments like these?

You take a step back as you raise your hands up slightly in a placating gesture.

“Het spijt me,” you say trying to dodge around him quickly as his scent absolutely floods your senses.

Fuck, he smells good.

The general mixed smells of horny male in the club had been enough when looking at him before, but here and now, you realize you are in real trouble. The way he smells itches something deep in you. You want to fuck him. You also want to bite him. Hard.

Go now. Leave.

He spins as if to follow you as you skirt around him.

“No problem! Hey I saw you earlier, are you leaving already?” He says in perfect English. He must think you’re a tourist. Technically, you kind of are.

“Is my accent that bad?” you say, pausing in step to look at him.

What the fuck are you thinking. You need to go right now.

He grins. ”Haha, yes a little.”

You can’t help yourself. You can tell he’s teasing. He was charming before from all the way across the room and he’s just as charming right now. All blond fluff and cheekbones and effortless charisma. You turn to face him fully.

“Well, yeah, I think I’m done for the night,” you say carefully.

He leans in a little, opens his mouth to say something else, but stops dead when he sees what must be your eyes turning pitch black.

You feel the subtle tug as it happens. The proximity to something so fucking potent as he leans forward pushes you over an edge you didnt even know was there. You’re literally engaging night vision like you’re going to hunt him or something. Ridiculous. You haven't had this problem in years.

“Fuck!” he stumbles back. “Your eyes! A-Are you…….What!?”

You’re still just standing there and you can tell he doesn’t know what to say. For as much as pop culture loves the supernatural, no one is ever actually prepared to encounter it.

You can tell he isn’t drunk enough to forget what he’s seeing right now but once again you don’t care like you probably should.

You allow your gaze to flit from his shocked stare down to his lips and then, after a moment, to his throat. When you look up again, it’s obvious he’s blushing. His eyes have become so dark they could rival your own if it weren't for the sclera.

Less than a second later, the smell of his arousal hits you.

What the fuck?

It stirs you more intensely than you thought possible and you know it's now or never. Leave or absolutely traumatize this beautiful stranger.

You summon all your willpower and turn tail and run.

You don’t even try to conceal your speed. It's dark enough and the risk has to be taken if you stand any chance of getting far enough away to save the situation by the time that willpower runs out.

Besides, he’s already seen you.

By the time you reach your street you’re panting. God, that was like four kilometers. Whatever fresh Twilight bullshit that says vampires never run out of stamina is just wrong. You may have done it in a nice neat ten minutes but still, that was rough.

The burning in your chest has you feeling decidedly less sexy and you walk the rest of the way home.

Home was a small apartment you had found on the edge of the city where you could afford to not have a roommate and the landlady let you pay month by month instead of signing on for a whole year. It was always hard finding places like that.

In the few months you had been there not one of your neighbors was especially loud or smelly or nosey and you counted it a lucky find. It was a perfect spot really, and you were glad it was within your budget.

You had been working remote for the duration of your worldly travels. Even if things got tight sometimes, it was a good enough paying job and you wouldn't trade it for anything since it allowed you to move around when you wanted.

After your great murderous fuck-up, you had found it was very soothing to be out of country, even if you were sure no one was onto you.

It would be pretty hard to pin anything on you with no body.

As far as you know, the poor guy is still considered missing. Well, you say ‘poor guy,’ but the guy was kind of an asshole. You had never been drugged before, but you could tell for him it was a practiced routine.

The horror of the night started at the bar at the local theater. Not a place you had thought to be on your guard. You were there with a few friends in full costume to catch this month's performance of Rocky Horror.

It was intermission and you were all milling about refilling drinks and stretching your legs and fighting to fit as many people at once into the lone photo booth in the corner. The bar was small and you did not expect to stop there for longer than it took to get a new beer.

He came up next to you, too close from the get-go considering there was no one else standing there, and made conversation while he had you captive waiting for your drink.

He wasn’t from around there, was visiting he said, and wanted to know what people do for fun. You could tell he really meant he wanted to know what fun he could have with you.

As forward as he was, it wasn't unusually pushy and you were ultimately unbothered when you broke away to find your friends. You never even saw how he managed to dose you.

You never found your friends.

You don’t even remember how you made it to his car.

One minute you were walking back to your seat and the next, you were outside. It was cold. Someone was carrying you bridal style.

You were pretty out of it for a good minute. Not sure how long exactly, but long enough that when you started processing things again, you were pulling up by the side of the road near a cow pasture.

He clearly thought you were still out of it because he removed his hand from your thigh, cut the engine, and got out to go around to open your door without a word.

God knows what he had in mind for you that night, but you never found out because as it happens, he was right, you were still kind of out of it. Not like he had intended, your metabolism already working through a dose surely meant to incapacitate, but you were still loopy enough that logic was miles away and a cold and creeping dread began to fill you as you realized your situation.

The inability to think clearly, though it was getting better with each second, was only more agitating.

It didn't even occur to you at the time that he stood no chance, that this was all ridiculous. You had been different for too short a time back then.

He was a threat, and one way or another you were about to respond.

He opened your door.

You had never felt the kind of fear-panic-rage before that you did in that moment.

You were up in a flash as soon as he opened it wide enough and dragged him with you into the field.

Your strength was unexpected and his last words were no more than a surprised shout before you ripped his throat out and drank.

Each time he thrashed, the panic fought to overwhelm you and you drank faster to quiet him. He couldn't hurt you if you made him stop moving.

When he ran dry, the panic-rage still burned and it seemed only natural to take a bite. A real bite. You had to make sure he stopped.

So you did.

And then another bite.

And another and another and before you knew it, he had no head.

Then, he had no arm and then soon, he only had a leg.

The only thing you didn’t eat was his clothes.

When light started to creep over the horizon, you finally came out of your state. You felt both calm and horrified. The threat was gone, but you also didn’t know you could do that. Where did it all go? Forget the size of your stomach, your entire body couldn’t have fit his inside of it.

It was a little startling at the time.

You burned his clothes and drove his car to the bottom of a lake. It might have been enough, probably was, but after that you didn’t stick around long to find out.

All this was to say that you enjoyed where you were now. It had been a good couple of years and you were now only vaguely disturbed about your latent abilities. You had even gotten back to the point where you were going back to bars and clubs again!

There was a time when you stayed away after that. You had been slow to return to enjoying nightlife, but Berlin had done wonders in that department and Amsterdam only solidified it. There was something about the Dutch brand of party that made you feel alive.

Tonight put a slight damper on that feeling of progress though. You’re not sure what you would have done to that guy if you hadn't left that very second.

Even if the situation was entirely different, it was the first time since that disastrous night that you have felt so out of control.

You can’t say you felt particularly murderous but you did want to hurt him in ways that make you blush a little now as you trudge up the steps to your door and wrestle with your keys.

Ugh. You can never repeat that night.

You will have self control.

You do have self control.

Mostly.

You should just calm down already. As you bolt the door and slip off your shoes, you resolve to make tea and forget about it. Besides, you didn’t really do anything and no one will ever believe him.

The next day finds you completely normal and you spend your time working. You had a good night's sleep all things considered.

It’s such a good thing that vampires can sleep. Sure, maybe you would get more done if you didn’t, but honestly you think you would go crazy. You love your comfy little nest and you love turning your brain off. It needed to be turned off after that encounter.

By next week, the entire thing is forgotten (filthy lie) and you feel like it is high time for another visit to the club. Boredom is killer and you can't resist anyways. Last time was surely a one-off.

You do yourself up and make your way downtown.

The street lamps reflect off the water and the countless neon signs of bars and restaurants give the streets an ethereal glow despite the shadows, deep as ever.

They scatter in in every direction, multiplying in protest of the city lights and gathering themselves to obscure every corner.

The pounding bass spills out the door of every club you pass and the carefree Friday night energy of every person wandering the streets is tangible.

Amsterdam is so awesome.

You purposefully choose a new spot you found on Instagram, hoping to avoid running into him again.

You’ve never been big on social media, but ever since your life took you on the road it became critical to your navigation of the world. It took some getting used to, especially with no one in your life to ask more than superficial questions, but you figured it out.

It still startles you occasionally just how non tech-savvy you can be. It’s not usually an issue but when you forget how to convert file types or struggle to navigate online forums you can't deny you’re a little behind the curve. Honestly, you might as well be a vampire from the 17th century not the 21st. One hidden away in a decaying manor far from modern technology.

An exaggeration, but it really feels that way sometimes.

You often pat yourself on the back for learning how to use the software necessary to do your job. Your career hadn’t required it of you before and it was only due to the fuckass pandemic that it had become an option. Now that you had the tech down it was very convenient to be able to do your job virtually.

That had been one of your biggest concerns in the beginning. How were you gonna fund your life on the run if you had to constantly search for new employment?

When you get to the club it is delightfully similar to the photos and you spend your evening rotating between dancing your ass off and people-watching from the side when the smells and jostling get a little too exciting.

Yes, the club is exciting. The right amount this time around. You feel like a real young adult. You give yourself another pat on the back for your foray into normalcy.

It’s a smaller club on Lange Leidsedwarsstraat. By no means tucked away, but far enough from Leidseplein main square that there are far fewer tourists.

The ice is starting to melt in your drink. You can’t be bothered with it when there is so much to look at.

There can't be more than fifty people crammed in this tiny renovated warehouse but they manage to sport a variety of fashion and dance styles. Inevitably, you spot hakken amongst them. The tangle of decks and mixers on the small raised stage is huge and the lone DJ operating it all glows in alternating colors as lights strobe from behind to scatter over the crowd.

You work your way out of the corner and back onto the dance floor again. The upbeat song playing now hits just the right vibe for how you’re feeling.

Doe de Fryslân bop

Wist je niet dat ik van Fryslân kom?

Dude, doe de Fryslân bop

Blaas het op als een fietsbandpomp

You bop along for a minute as the song demands and notice a group of several people shouting along much louder than everyone else. They seem to know every word.

One of them facing away from you turns in place as he dances and suddenly you’re locking eyes with the exact same guy.

Jesus Christ, what are the odds.

Well, maybe not terrible odds if you consider he’s probably a local.

But still. Goddammit.

His face instantly lights up and it would be kind of cute if you weren’t panicking. Those baby blues pack a punch. What happened to not giving a fuck?

Before you can move a single muscle to make your retreat, he is surging towards you through the crowd and o h s h i t you did not expect that.

You thought he’d be running too. Even if he had been surprisingly horny in the face of inhuman eyes, you figured the freakish speed there at the end would have been enough to spook him.

Shocked, you fail to stop him from grabbing your wrist like he can tell you’re gonna make a break for it again. Vampire reflexes who? You open your mouth to protest but before you can say anything he leans in and bites your shoulder.

What.

WHAT?

You realize you’re shouting it as he pulls away laughing.

“Fancy seeing you here!” He is way too happy.

“You bit me!”

“Are you gonna bite me back?”

“What!?”

“C’mon, I know you want to.” The way he waggles his eyebrows should not be attractive. It is.

“Excuse me?!”

“I’ve watched enough tv to know a bloodsucker when I see one.” He looks stupidly smug.

“Yeah, tv. You should probably stop watching so much.”

“Your eyes were beautiful y’know.” You feel your own heart stutter.

“I think you had too much to drink.”

“Please, that was not drunk at all, you should have seen how we ended the night!”

“Yeah, you definitely were. But you’re joking, right? You should know most girls aren’t into roleplay right off the bat.” Maybe you can embarrass him into leaving you be.

He scoffs and brings his other hand to the back of your head so he can pull you in as he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Why did you run?”

You can tell he’s deliberately holding your face close to his throat and god damn him, you know what he is trying to achieve and it works. This close to the source, the other smells of the club can’t run interference.

His presence is just as overwhelming as the first time and the smell of his skin and the thump of his heart is so close now you can’t help your reaction once again.

You feel the familiar tug behind your eyes and the shadows of the room start to melt away. The little silver chain sitting against his clavicles snaps into perfect definition.

He pulls away to gauge your reaction, the sly motherfucker, but his grin melts into stupefied wonder when he sees exactly what he had hoped for.

“There it is.” He whispers. His heart is beating harder than ever and his scent rushes forward to envelop you even though you are no longer pressed to his neck. He smells like adrenaline. He smells like arousal.

You pout as he drinks you in. He pulled a fast one on you.

Realizing he’s still holding your wrist, you flex in warning. He grips tighter like he’s afraid to let you go.

“C’mon, I’m not gonna go around gathering a mob with torches and pitchforks, what’s the big deal?”

You hold his gaze. You remember very well what the big deal is. What you are capable of when emotions are this high. He has you feeling something, alright.

But, you have to admit, even though everything about his presence is sending you into the stratosphere, it is nothing like that night. This feeling, albeit intense, is a good one.

When was the last time someone talked to you like this? After seeing what you were? Never. Maybe you overreacted before. Maybe you can control yourself. As much as you want to rip into his shoulder you're not doing it. You‘re enjoying looking at him too much.

He really is beautiful.

Right now it doesn't feel like you're in danger of a big deal 2.0. Just maybe something equally stupid.

“You know I’ll have to kill you if you out me right?” You look over at the rest of his group where they are still dancing.

His eyes widen at your indirect confirmation- you are a vampire. His grip becomes stiff and you finally get a whiff of fear. Good. Even if you’re lying, he should know who he’s dealing with.

He stutters a bit, “I-I told some of my friends I saw something crazy, but they don’t believe me I swear! They just think I was drunk! Like you said!”

God, he’s outing himself already. He’s so lucky you’re not actually evil. You just laugh and begin swaying to the beat again. You break his hold on your wrist effortlessly now, just a hint of real strength, so you can grab his hand instead.

“Don’t worry, I’m just teasing. Dance with me?”

Even in the low lighting of the club, you can tell with your shifted vision how hard he’s blushing. In spite of his fear, he smells like he’s ready to fuck you pregnant.

God, he’s a freak.

You love it.

He acquiesces after a stunned moment and begins to bounce along with you. After a minute, you see him start mouthing the lyrics and it strikes you again how well he seems to know them.

“A favorite of yours?” you say.

”I wrote it!” he exclaims, leaning in. “You like?”

“Did you really?” You are genuinely skeptical.

He scoffs. “I did! I am huge Netherlands artiest, don’t you know Joost Klein? Also, I know the DJ so he plays my stuff.” You hear humor in his voice but you don’t know what part is a joke.

Joost Klein. Huh. You have never heard that name in your life.

“Wow, I feel so lucky to meet a celebrity.” You bat your eyes at him.

He clocks your bullshit immediately.

“Really! I can show you my stuff! Come to my studio and I’ll show you what I’m working on!”

You smirk. You are really dancing quite closely now.

“Wow I dunno, I never usually let boys show me their stuff on the first date.”

He chokes out a laugh “So this is a date huh?” his hands are on your waist now.

“I don’t know yet” You say. “Dance with me some more.”

Because you are insane, you turn around and lean up against him. The music is a little slower and heavier now than the alt-pop rap playing before. Joost gets the message immediately and soon you’re grinding to the beat. Already, you can feel his bulge against your ass.

You let yourself get lost in the rhythm of the music and the feeling of him against you. It's easy to lose time when his scent and his touch surround you like this. You could almost forget the itch in your canines.

His head bows and his lips skim your shoulder where he bit you. What a strange sensation. A role reversal. You still can't believe he did that. For a minute, you feel strikingly human.

You arch up into him and let your head fall back against his chest. His lips move up to your ear and he asks, “Can I have your number?” You twist yourself back around to face him.

It’s getting harder not to just kiss him.

You maintain eye contact for a minute, his gaze searching yours.

Without breaking the stare-down, you reach into his pocket oh-so-slowly and pull out his phone, offering it to him.

He is starting to look a little crazed but he breaks the eye contact to look down and open it for you. You punch in your number when he turns it to you and slide it back into his pocket, just as slowly.

Hooking a finger into his belt loop, you look up at him under your lashes. Joost looks like he doesn’t know whether to fuck you now or fuck you later. If he can wait to get you home.

You don’t let him deliberate.

Leaning up, you ghost your lips over his. “See you soon.”

And with all the stupid supernatural guile you can muster, you sink backwards into the crowd and disappear. The last glimpse you catch of his face is one of outrage.

You laugh all the way down the street.

A side street without lamps lends the shadows you need for cover as you give it just a bit of a speed boost in case he gets the idea to go looking for you again. Lord knows you’ve bumped into him enough times now that he might think to try it.

You aren’t even to the end of the street before you get a text.

+31 06 5337496: y r u so mean to me ( ｰ̀εｰ́ )

+31 06 5337496: when will you come to my studio?

+31 06 5337496: ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡

You're still not sure what he really means by studio. Maybe it was a joke for his apartment. A studio apartment? Or maybe he really does make music. That would be fun. Not that you know much about Dutch music. Or Dutch. You sigh. It’s a process.

Saving his number you write back.

cap

I am not mean

had to get out of there before you turned full blood-

sucker on me biting my shoulder like that

Tuesday?

The dot-dot-dot pops up and goes away no less than seven times before he finally replies.

Joost: (/>w<)/ yayyyy can’t wait!!

Joost: meet me at 16 Schimmelstraat at 14:00 :333

You can't help but snort at the way he texts. Definitely a funny guy. You have such good taste.

It took him quite a while to respond compared to the speed at which he first texted you. You might be technologically illiterate, but even you know that means Joost had to think about something a little harder.

He does seem to get flustered by everything vampiric. Oh this was going to be so much fun.

On the other hand, Joost might just be a slow texter.

You know where you would place your bet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you so much for reading!! Sorry for the atrocious amount of backstory. I didn't realize what I’d done until it was too late (and I didn’t want to rewrite). I promise the next one will be more Joost-centric interaction and less boring exposition. Btw this series will include smut! Yay!!

#read the CWs #joost klein x reader #joost x reader #joost klein x you #joost klein smut #joost klein fanfic #rpf #RPF

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izaedkhanblog · 2 years ago

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A look back!

As I write this blog, I realise its only the 3rd blog I have posted in 2022. I need to pick up the pace and start posting again. It has been a busy and an eventful year. It came with a lot of promises, some that have been fulfilled and some that I believe God protected me from.

They say Life is about moving forward and never looking back. But I think we should look back. Looking back gives us an idea of our progress and keeps us grounded. When I look back at the things that have happened, I’ll say I have progressed in life, especially this year. Emotionally it has made me tough and prepared me to take on difficult challenges that will be thrown at me.

I also completed a year in Legal practice in October 2022 albeit I missed many days due to frequent travels I undertook but I am loving the life in the Court having built a little Litigation of my own and trying to make a name for myself. I don’t know though if by this time next year I’ll still be in Court. As I said, life is all about moving forward and I want to move forward in life and choose the best for myself.

Two of my best mates got married this year. Shubhangi got married as the year began and Shubham who we dearly call Sir got married at the end of the year and before I forget, Binish also got Nikafied in the middle of the year and the Amity gang got to reunite on all these three occasions again. We first met in Delhi then Kashmir and finally in Jharkhand. Amazing!

My Amity mates are some of the nicest blokes in my life, people who take offence at being called friends and would rather refer to each other as brothers. Needless to say we act like brothers.

This was also the year I spent so much time travelling to different places. It’s crazy when I think about it. Delhi, Punjab, Haryana, Chandigarh, Himachal, Jharkhand and Mumbai. I think one should travel frequently. It opens the eyes to different perspectives and helps us give up on pre existing notions we may have about these places. TBH though, Punjab is my absolute favourite place. The lush green fields, the food, the people and the culture. People embrace you like you are one of their own. Even in Himachal I met some of the nicest people. People aren’t bad, that’s what I have realised, our thoughts and pre existing notions need to change about places we’ve never been to or people who we have never interacted with.

2022 feels like it flew by. We say it about every year but I think the fatigue caused by the interruptions led by Covid in the previous two years, this time people just wanted to move on and start afresh and 2022 has given a new hope and a new lease of life.

This year however is also the one that I will forever associate with the passing away of the most important person in my life, my grandmother. She was the most important person in my life and one who I could go to and explain any problem I had knowing that even if I was wrong, I would still have her support. People may not think about it, but sometimes it is all you need, to have someone by your side who will be there no matter how tough it gets. Amma was that person for me. She meant everything to me and her passing away has changed a lot of things in my life. My routine isn’t the same. I leave for office now without her being there, telling me I’ll be the most successful Advocate in the world. I don’t now come back home, tired with her berating everyone to get good food for me ASAP. Amma, your love was truly unconditional. May Allah elevate your status in Paradise 💙

This year, I parted company with a person who I thought really mattered and one I could count on but it wasn’t meant to be… but it’s a story for another day.

Ever since I have returned from Delhi, I realise my connection with Allah has cemented a to a great degree. I can’t imagine going through the dark phases that this year threw at me without Allah’s intervention. Allah gave me strength to get through the odds with my head held high. It’s Allah who gives strength, and it is Allah who takes away that strength. It’s Allah who sails our boat, it’s Allah who sinks our boat. I don’t mean to say that I have succeeded in pleasing God through my actions, far from it but the fact that I can count on Allah to get me through the worst, it’s something that truly matters to me. It doesn’t make me feel vulnerable.

If you’ve read my previous blogs, you would know that I don’t make resolutions for the coming year. I believe in letting things flow and catch one moment at a time. I hope to be doing well in life this time next year. I hope Allah keeps protecting me and guiding me through the storms that are going to be thrown at me.

At this point of time, it’s all about the football World Cup and simultaneously thinking about the next move in career. My bet is on Argentina to win. I also hope to make a wise choice in career. Let’s just see what’s in store. Until next time Xoxoxo

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dailyadventureprompts · 3 years ago

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Hey sorry to bother you but do you have any ideas on a reimagined Tiamat/Tiamat worship? I've come an inspirational roadblock trying to figure out why anybody would worship a greedy power hungry (and pretty one note) evil dragon lady? Why does Bahamut get all the love?

Monsters Reimagined: Tiamat, Goddess of Primordial Waters.

Alright folks, strap in. This is overhaul has been a long time coming and is one that've I've been thinking about since long before I started this series, or even this blog.

Like most of the evil gods in d&d, worshiping Tiamat is silly. She's a one note god that cares nothing for her followers and has zero actual ideology. She exists solely so that there can be a god of evil dragons, but I'll get into that below the cut. TLDR: Rather than the clunky default version, you should use a riff on the ancient babylonian deity she's based on/steals the name from. The original Tiamat is a water/ocean goddess that's said to also represent the primal chaos from which all things spring. With her consort she gives birth to the first gods, then transforms into a great monster to battle her children when they try to pre kill her lover. From her body the earth itself is created, and are great monsters born. I think this is an amazing foundational myth that you can use for any campaign world, and gives plenty of reason for people within that world to worship Tiamat into the present day.

What's wrong: Right of the bat I'm going to say I never liked how d&d does dragons. Color coding them for our convenience decreases a lot of wonder when it comes to facing off against a such an iconic foe, and the way that their personalities have become codified over time further limits our ability to tell stories about them. I'm going to save my actual gripes about this canonization for a monsters reimagined focusing on dragons, but for the time being, I'm going to say that Tiamat's design looks a little silly and needs an overhaul on optics alone.

Next comes the divinity part: Tiamat isn't just THE mega evil dragon, she's THE GOD of evil dragons, which is silly for a bunch of reasons.

Why would dragons need a god? Dragons are ego given form, and the only worship they engage in is worship of the self.

From a cultural perspective, Gods are also creations of societies, reflecting the elements that society deals with or the ideologies that govern it. Dragons don't have a society or a culture, they're loners and alpha predators that can talk who may on occasion insert themselves into the culture of other civilizations either as a covert agent or by installing themselves at the top.

No mortal would worship Tiamat as she explicitly DOES NOT CARE for her followers, and only shows up if there's something in it for her. Even though she's listed as a goddess of greed, it's not like she embodies some kind of ideology that will enrich her dedicated followers: If you get too rich and worship Tiamat, she's going to show up and TAKE YOUR STUFF FROM YOU.

Lets fix it: We don't talk enough about bronze age cultures in d&d settings. Sure, there'll be remnants of the not!roman empire laying around, and there'll be ancient elvan enclaves or antlantis inspired lost civilizations.. but generally these things are so far off in the distant past that they're disconnected from the campaign's actual chronology. Much like LOTR or GoT, the faux-medieval period is presumed to have gone on forever, sometimes for tens of millennia, with no progress ever being made save for the occasional apocalypse to stagger back from.

In my own writing, I've been playing around with something I call " The Dawn Age" this is a semi-mythic era that served as a sort of trial and error period for the gods, as they made things, gave shape to the world, and figured out how they'd run things from thereon out. Like any alpha test, things go very wrong, very many times, and the gods and other nacient creatures of that time need a few attempt to figure out what works.

Tiamat and the bones of her original Babylonian mythology fit into this idea perfectly: one of the original creator deities that shaped the world out of the astral sea. Collaborating and conflicting with other powerful demiurges as they defined what would and wouldn't be for the plane our heroes would one day trek across. Tiamat eventually came into conflict with a group of semi-divine entities that had arisen from her creation, who wished to stop her chaotic reshaping of reality and institute a more settled and orderly process ( for a myriad of reasons, ranging form self preservation or the appreciation of what might be wiped away in her next revision). These entities would defeat Tiamat and use the power they stole from her to shape reality as they liked it, putting a gradual end to the dawn age and letting reality solidify and progress into the current chronology.

To bring it all Together:

In a way, Tiamat is the world itself, or at least the underlying primal forces that keep it in a cohesive shape. She is worshiped by those cultures with ancient knowledge for her miracle of creation and lifegiving, and remembered by others as a destroyer who would have gladly kept the world in a state of primordial chaos, destroying whole civilizations for the sake of an inspired whim.

Tiamat's primordial chaos and the way her essence was used to shape the world also explains why it keeps spitting out monsters, strange creatures arising from the wilderness with no explanation in ever more astonishing variations. In a way, she is still creating: seeping in through the cracks that formed since her defeat.

Titles: Spring of Origin, Primordia, Mother Hydra. She who wets the clay. The maker unmade

Signs: plantlife growing in the shape of animals, verdant springs, scale patterns on rocks, Her destructive aspects are heralded by tarpits, snakelike creatures with multiple heads, or water acting unnaturally.

Symbols: Entwining serpents, hydras, spiraling pictograms. A Tree with snake-tails for roots. Her destructive aspect is represented by interlocking maws full of fangs, usually in a jagged star pattern.

Followers: Perhaps one of the first "nature" deities, Tiamat's influence is less an ideology than it is a push towards creation and flow, and works guided by her end up becoming verdant and fruitful. Mystics may seek Tiamat’s influence to invoke a flow of ideas or the “will” of creation, while healers may channel her primal vigor to encourage new growth and stave off old rot. Those seeking to embody Tiamat’s more destructive aspects often resent the world the way it is, and wish in some way to restart the process of creation and perhaps even usher in a new dawn age. These groups or individuals are often outcasts from civilization, and seek a radical return to nature or opposition to forces that would “tame” the wilds.

Spaces that that flow and erode are sacred to Tiamat, such as riverbends, swamps, coastlines, deltas, springs, as well as less obvious places such as caves or lavaflows. Creatures and cultures that dwell around or within these areas may feel the mother hydra's influence

Adventure Hooks:

A temple to a more modern deity is famous as a site of pilgrimage for its healing spring, but suffers a dramatic turn of events when their main attraction starts producing poisonous tar instead. Requested by a friendly acolyte of the temple, or Employed by one seeking healing and looking to force the issue, the party must delve down into a nearby cave system to discover the origin of this blight. . There they find an ancient altar to Tiamat that was the source of the spring’s healing abilities, which was desecrated by unknown hands. Before the party was able to investigate, strange creatures begin to emerge from the tar, seeking victims. After teh beasts are dispatched, the party can piece together clues that it was a particularly zealous acolyte in the temple, who scorned the existence of a “heathen” shrine on their patrons holy ground.

There is a strong connection between Tiamat and the Yuan-Ti ( who some believe directly obtained their flesh reshaping magic by studying Tiamats primordial influence). Likewise, there is a strong connection her and Pharika, a serpentine goddess who is said to have shaped the world and its monsters with secret knowledge entwined within them. A priestess of this newer goddess of affliction and cure seeks the party’s help in exploring old sites sacred to Mother Hydra, but may run into some fundamentalist snake cultists guarding the ruins.

Depending on which canons you follow, Moradin Allhammer, god of craft and dwarvenkind, was part of the coalition of beings that rose against Tiamat and her primordial tumult, with his epithet originating in the ability he gained from defeating the Spring of Origin, and the labors he undertook to give shape to reality afterwords. Some religious hardliners have decided to finish what their patron started, and have begun a witchhunt against a local enclave of Tiamat worshipers, claiming them to be an origin of a spreading plague.

Dragons often nest in long abandoned temples to Tiamat because these sacred spaces are natural laylines, which attract wyrms the way that hot stones attract other reptiles. When an earthquake causes a shift in layline energy, a local dragon begins seeking the expertise of mystics and other scholars to “get the power back on”. Starting out disguised as a socially malajusted noble ( the nobility is a disguise, they have no idea how to talk to people), this dragon is not above returning to its original form and kidnapping a bunch of geomancers and terrified academics to see its mission through.

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revasserium · 5 months ago

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cut for length :) <3 thanks for tagging me darling!

started writing: not me at like age 9 or 10 watching lotr on tv and like... physically writing out aragorn fanfic in a spiral-bound notebook.... sdlfjksod what a time. but yeah! that's how i got started; and then ofc, i devoured hp!fanfic a la ff.net and started posting my own but y'all.... actually now i think about it the first fanfic i ever properly read was actually on quizilla -- which is now LOST forever to the depths of the internet... but yeah. thats the deep cut on internet fanfic lore folks LOL

started blogging: i used to have a livejournal lmfao so yeah -- again, deepcut, ancient-magicks level of internet lore here. i was writing like... jpop boyband fanfic (sweet baby jesus lmfao) back then and it was honestly a great time but also the wild wild west. truly do not rmbr what year that was but i was like... maybe 14?

followers: im at 3378 on this blog currently u__u and im thankful for each and every one of you!

communication: i used be more active in talking to ppl on here -- i got pretty comfy with just literally sliding into ppl's dms and stuff but since life has gotten busy, i haven't had the chance :( i also used to be more active in a few writing discords that spawned from tumblr but again, haven't been active in a while in those either bc of Life (TM); in general tho, i do think that the "ease" of Ye Olde Tumblr back in the early days has died down a little. i do kind of miss it tho!

likes: i... like em? i actually don't have strong feelings about likes vs reblogs for my own content -- i think once upon a time i might've had stronger feelings, but at this point, i try to think of this blog as (just as it says in the byline) a little repository for my own writings and daydreams. and if people happen to come by and enjoy, and decide to interact with it in some way? beautiful!

requests: i like them! i just haven't had time to get to them u__u i will say i am quite particular about the requests i do accept -- usually, i'll work off of a predetermined prompt list when my reqs are open. i think it's just something in the cosmic atmosphere this summer but im like... so unmotivated to write/create/do anything other than lie on a bed and rot the past few months LOL (and from what i've seen/heard its a pretty common sentiment lately...) but after this slump, i do plan to get to my reqs :)

writing: i'm both fast and slow, i think -- again, once upon a time, when i wrote as a job, i could basically sit down and just bang it out; i'd be able to churn out like 3-4k words a day on a good day, but that's obviously not super sustainable for the long term. right now, it's like -- if i get an idea, ive gotta put down nearly everything im doing and write it down immediately, and basically finish it in one go, or else who knows how long before i'll get another wave of inspiration. so i've got a few wips that have just been kinda hangin' out half-finished for like... months. but i will say, once i've got a decent amount of a fic written, the rest is inside me somewhere. so if i did sit down and really try, i will be able to finish. i just don't seem to have that energy currently skladjfoisd

in terms of themes, i like weird wonky themes. i obviously don't mind writing smut, but it's not something i think i'm particularly good at, so it "takes" more energy for me. i like toying with unconventional timelines, perspectives, and plot devices -- telling a story backwards, or saving some vital piece of "twist" till the very end. i also love fairy-tale retellings; i think they're one of my favorite genres, both to read and to write; i love stories that everyone knows (or thinks they know) and being able to fuck with that pre-existing knowledge. other than that, there's not really anything i'll avoid? i'm fine with dark themes as well, cheating, jealousy, abuse, etc -- it all just depends on the story as it wants to be told.

alright! tagging: @violettduchess @skiagrafia @imaginethathaikyuu @sorikkung @thewaterlily @mimi-cee-hq and anyone else who's here and reading and wants to do it! <3

Behind the scenes of a Tumblr Writer - Tag Game

Hey there, I love behind the scenes and since this is something that's rarely talked about, let me start the chain... if you feel uncomfortable with a question, just skip it. You can add some if you want as well.

Started writing: I wrote my first Harry Potter fanfic at age 10. Started posting around 15,16 years old. I'm now 31, so...

Started blogging: I started on a German fanfiction site around 2010/11 I think. Might have been earlier too, but back then I was mostly reading, no posting. I really started when I got into One Direction (very late, tbh)

Followers: Currently at 961, which is wild to me. I don't even know that many people IRL. I convince myself that half of them are bots tbh, so I don't freak out all the time.

Communication: The people I talk to regularly are: a few writers who answered after I constantly reblogged and commented on their works and a few people who commented and reblogged my work. Writing and blogging on here can be pretty lonely, depending on your personality and the time you're active (I'm from Europe and a lot of my followers seem to be living in Northern America, so there's the Timezone thing) ... And I found that the best way to strike a conversation is to reblog, comment, and to not be shy. I do wish I got more asks, though....

Likes: I actually filter them out. I have 793 original posts up at the moment. It doesn't give me anything to know how many likes a fic has other than to tell me which characters are liked more than others or maybe that one fic does especially well. My activity only shows me comments, asks, reblogs with tags, and answers to my own asks. I live for the tags and the comments.

Requests: I love talking to people about ideas. That's how I started the plotbunny game because I have so many ideas and so little time. And sometimes an idea just doesn't want to be written out fully. Requests are fun because YAY, I get some mail... but then I freak out because I don't really know how to write this NOW and then I freak out because it's been a week already, two weeks, wait, two months? I'd rather have suggestions where people tell me vague things like "I'd love to read something about this side character" or "Have you ever considered this character with a soulmate trope"? because then I don't have the feeling of failing the request when I write it a little bit differently.

Writing: I am a fast writer. I know that's one of my talents. I can churn out a oneshot of 1k words in less than an hour. People read slower than I write. That can suck sometimes because you've just posted this and you want to know what people are thinking but they're not as fast as you are. I do have a lot of ideas. I want to write constantly but my brain doesn't always want to. I am trying to respect that.

There are also certain things that I just feel wrong writing. I cannot write anything suggestive (I also don't like reading it) and everything past that gives me panic attacks. I can hardly write mean characters and jealousy feels so wrong to me that I cannot write it. I've also overdone it with the soulmark trope and now I feel like everything I write about it feels lifeless.

I write best in the mornings before going to work, but I don't have much time there. I don't need special music (but it helps), but I need to have at least some energy left and at best, no distractions. But I have been writing for over 20 years, so I will say experience helps a lot.

Tagging: @revasserium @shoulmate @lemurzsquad @screamin-abt-haikyuu @toomanygoldfish @satorisoup @emmyrosee @reverie-starlight @alienaiver and @writingsofanomnivore and everyone else who wants to join

#🌧 raindrops #tag game

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coldalbion · 5 years ago

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THINGS WOT I HAVE LEARNT AFTER BEING VIRTUALLY HOUSEBOUND FOR 3 YEARS THAT MAY BE HELPFUL TO THOSE IN SELF ISOLATION AND/OR LOCKDOWN DURING THE CORONAVIRUS PANDEMIC

(Background: I have a lifelong disability and am a wheelchair user. After surgery I’ve basically been stuck living and sleeping in one room for three years. These are things I have learnt which may help, though with the caveat that everyone is different, and baseline mental health varies.)

1. YOUR MENTAL HEALTH WILL PROBABLY SUFFER - and although humans are social creatures, even the most introverted will chafe against boundaries enforced upon them by circumstance. The degree to which it suffers will be related to your mental health baseline and physical health. Understand that this IS NOT YOUR FAULT. Stimuli and enrichment methods are required. It’s why animals need such things in zoos and conservation parks. This leads us on to my next point.

2. COMPREHEND WHICH ACTIVITIES ARE ACTIVE AND PASSIVE FOR YOU Spending your confinement solely doing passive things (watching TV, Netflix, browsing the internet, scrolling through the internet) will take a load off your brain and make the time pass quicker. But if that’s all you do, the sense of disconnection increases over time. Activities which require you to *do* something, even if it’s just engaging your motor skills via video games, or lifting some cans of beans, or actively reading - these deliberate acts foster a tiny sense of achievement which gives your brain a dose of helpful chemicals. If you want to consider your activities, look up the work of Marshall McLuhan as regards “hot media” and “cold media” (See https://mediawiki.middlebury.edu/MIDD…/Hot_versus_cool_media for basic premise.) Balancing out your media intake with hot and cold activities keeps your brain active and pumping tasty neurotransmitters.

3. LIMIT YOUR SOCIAL MEDIA USAGE TO SOCIAL PURPOSES. Infinite scrolling as found on many social media platforms is a hot medium, as per McLuhan. The reason Likes exist is to give that little spike of interactivity. It’s not a conspiracy to say many platforms are designed to keep you on them so they can show you more ads. (See also https://www.theguardian.com/…/has-dopamine-got-us-hooked-on… which explains the brain chemistry angle) However, DM’s and other messaging faculties are supremely useful. Use them to interact with your friends, indulge your fandom theories. Person to person interaction requires and enhances deep-seated neurological and biophysical reflexes. Text your mates. Skype/Facetime or otherwise call them. Use the technology of the 21st century for genuine social ends, deliberately. Catch up with their lives one to one or in groupchats.

4. PICK TIMES TO CHECK THE NEWS AND STICK TO THEM. This relates to point 3 - unfortunately we live in a 24hr news cycle, with constant liveblogging of important issues. This means that we’re constantly streaming anxiety inducing situations into our brains JUST IN CASE. That’s not helpful, particularly when you can’t actually DO anything about those events - the urge to DO something is why people are panic-buying. It’s a very basic primordial need to grab resources for defence. By picking times of the day to check news, you are again, making a DELIBERATE CHOICE, enacting some small level of agency, while at the same time limiting anxiety-inducing stimuli. If the news gets too much, then don’t check it as much - or at all - and do something else.

5. IF YOU DO THINGS WITH FRIENDS, SEE IF YOU CAN DO THEM ONLINE. Run that game of DnD/Other TTRPG you’ve been meaning to. Hold your book club online. Have a few drinks online over voice-chat if you are missing the pub. Hold watch parties for your favourite shows. The key, as ever, is to be engaged rather than passive. It’s harder if you’re ill, yes, but it can be done.

6. USE YOUR IMAGINATION TO CREATE THINGS. Write that fanfic. Start that novel. Design that game. Doodle. Paint. Humans have been creating since the day we became human. Consider things from the perspective of a pre-modern person. Make handprints on your own personal cave wall - contact each other and tell spooky stories. Build a complex fantasy world. Write an account of your confinement for some person to find pieces of years after you’re gone from the world. Think about a problem, and learn how to solve it via taking online classes (See http://www.openculture.com/freeonlinecourses) Write an essay on your chosen passion or hyperfixation - nobody needs to read it but you. Treat yourself to intellectual stimulation, if that’s your thing.

7. IF YOU HAVE A SPIRITUAL. RITUAL, OR MEDITATIVE PRACTICE DO IT. It doesn’t matter if it’s not perfect, or limited in scope. This also includes atheists and those who despise woo - you have personal rituals, things you do that have Meaning to you as a person. Maybe it;s alphabetizing your music collection, or spring cleaning or cooking your favourite meal like grandma used to make. Humans have patterns they perform. When you perform them DELIBERATIVELY (or dare I say MINDFULLY) you become aware that these are the scaffolds that structure human life.

8. STRUCTURE YOUR TIME. Following on from 7, we often don’t realise the structure of our lives until it is disrupted. When that’s removed, our minds can go into freefall. If you’re isolated/in lockdown, oftentimes you won’t be able to access those structures. Rather than wait for them to to become accessible again and risk a period of feeling lost and directionless, which can enhance depression and anxiety, it’s best to develop a new structure based on the resources you have. It can be as loose or as strict as you like, but sticking to it allows us to develop a rhythm which makes time pass in recognisable fashion and gives us a sense of being-in-the-world as some sort of engaged process.

9. KEEP YOUR SLEEP PATTERN REGULAR AND LONG ENOUGH. The key here is REGULAR. Following on from 8, it’s important to keep your body well rested, as this aids your immune system and cuts down on the possibility of your body having to deal with stress . If you’re ill it’s harder to keep this regular, because sometimes your body just needs sleep to regenerate NOW. Equally in isolation, particularly if you’re feeling mentally low, it can be tempting to sleep forever, because y’know, you’re feeling low and what’s the point. (Of course the point is why we have 8 in particular, along with all the rest.)

OBVIOUSLY EVERYONE IS DIFFERENT. Particularly for those with disabilities or chronic illnesses, we may be even more limited in our activities while isolated than able bodied folks. That said, the key is to remember that certainly during this pandemic, and otherwise YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONE FEELING THIS WAY. Rubbish as it may be, many are in the same boat. If it pleases you to, seek them out - see what commonalities you have, what hopes and dreams and fascinations you may share. FIND THE OTHERS - it’s what humans have always done.

Be well.

#coronavirus #disability #cripkult

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feralphoenix · 3 years ago

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SWEET DREAMS ARE MADE OF THIS: The Mechanics of the Infection

welcome back to feral’s essay tag where the hot takes don’t stop from keep being hot!

this particular meta has a Lot of citations from canon, and my plan is to have them as actual footnotes in the dreamwidth mirror when that goes up (as i always crosspost my meta there in case my layout text is too small for any folks accessing these from computer and not mobile).

CONTENT WARNING FOR TONIGHT’S PROGRAM: This essay contains discussion of body horror, cancer, and many of the darker aspects of Hallownest’s society.

ALSO, AS USUAL: I read Hollow Knight as anti-colonialist fiction and all of my meta approaches the text from that angle. This essay is strongly critical of the Pale King and Hallownest, and affords sympathy to pre-Hallownest societies & native characters, including Radiance. If you come from a Christian cultural background (regardless of whether you currently practice the religion or not), some of the concepts I am going to discuss may be challenging for you. Please be responsible in your choice whether to engage with this content, and also, be respectful here or wherever else you’re discussing this essay. Thanks.

SWEET DREAMS ARE MADE OF THIS: The Mechanics of the Infection

If you’ve ever looked through my Hollow Knight tags, you have probably seen me joke about the Infection like a lot, usually along the lines of Radiance casting Level 9 Inflict Tang on Hallownest, or “(radi voice) the End of EVA will continue until you Let My People Go” or some such. In addition to being some of the most beautiful body horror I’ve yet seen in fiction, its appearance also makes it a veritable meme factory.

It is also something that inspires a lot of very wild theorizing amongst fans, because canon tells us WHY the Infection exists but doesn’t ever directly explain WHAT it is. To name just a few of the guesses I’ve seen, people have posited that it could be some sort of pupa juice, or maybe some type of parasitic fungus.

I have my own guess, though, and it’s based on hints we can find in-game. I would like to share it with the class today, so let’s take a quick look through the sauce, starting with what we already know!

WHY

We learn why the Infection happened from Seer and Moss Prophet, and this is also summed up more directly in Team Cherry’s dev notes attached to Seer.

The Pale King wanted to be the only god of light in the crater,* so he tried to kill Radiance by thralling her children - attracting the moths with his light and making them forget about her,** assimilating them into Hallownest. Radiance survived because some moths still remembered and tried to preserve what they could of their original culture,*** and eventually she attempted to reassert her existence and communicate with the bugs of the crater by speaking to them through their dreams. However, the Pale King realized what was happening and ordered his worshippers to shut her out.****

Radiance did not give up, and continued to broadcast her message through dreams. This unstoppable force VS immovable object conflict could not last forever - something eventually had to give, and what gave was the mortals.***** The Infection was an accident that Radiance did not initially intend, but presumably chose to weaponize after the fact as a way to attempt to pressure TPK into releasing the moths and leaving her alone (or, barring that, a way to thoroughly destroy his kingdom at the very least).

SOURCES:

* “No blazing kin. Only one light shall shine against the dark.” - Lore tablet hidden beside the Pale King’s throne in the White Palace.

** “None of us can live forever, and so we ask those who survive to remember us. Hold something in your mind and it lives on with you, but forget it and you seal it away forever. That is the only death that matters.” - Seer’s 1200 Essence dialogue.

*** “But the memories of that ancient light still lingered, hush whispers of faith... Until all of Hallownest began to dream of that forgotten light.” - Seer’s 2400 Essence dialogue.

**** “The King and the bugs of hallownest resisted this memory/power and it started to manifest as the infection.” - from Team Cherry’s dev notes attached to Seer.

***** “Light is life, beaming, pure, brilliant. To stifle that light is to suppress nature. Nature suppressed distorts, plagues us.” - Moss Prophet's dialogue.

HOW

Now that we’ve recapped why the Infection exists, let’s examine the process of how the Infection works. We see some examples of this with various characters in-game, and the Hunter also shares his observations of the Infection’s mechanics in his commentary on the Infected Crossroads entries.

Since we’ll be bringing up the Hunter's Journal here, I want to first examine three entries to establish its dual authorship and how trustworthy it is: The Shade’s entry, the Lightseed’s, and Radiance’s.

We know that the bottom section of the Hunter’s Journal is the Hunter’s personal notes on each creature because the game itself tells us so. So who writes the notes on top that give a brief explanation of what each creature is? It’s a common fan theory that Ghost writes these, which I believe is indeed the case.

First let’s look at the Shade, which is automatically unlocked when we receive the Hunter's Journal in-game regardless of whether we have died and fought the Shade or not. Mechanically this is important because if the Shade weren’t unlocked by default it would be impossible to attain the Hunter achievements without dying at least once - this would REALLY suck for anybody who likes to suffer enough to try to complete the journal in Steel Soul mode.

The Shade’s entry reads:

Echo of a previous life. Defeat it to retake its power and become whole.

Each of us leaves an imprint of something when we die. A stain on the world. I don’t know how much longer this kingdom can bear the weight of so many past lives...

Notice that the top text knows exactly what the Shade is and how it works. In story terms, this would imply that Ghost has died and come back enough pre-game to understand the mechanics of how their revivals work.

The Lightseed’s entry reads:

A single-celled organism, completely infected. Scurries about simple-mindedly.

Strange air has been seeping down from above for years. Some of the air became liquid, and some of that liquid became flesh, and some of that flesh came to life. I don’t know what to make of it.

In this entry, the top text assumes that Lightseeds are a Lifeseed-like creature that has been infected, and the Hunter’s notes reveal that this is incorrect and the Lightseeds were actually born from the Infection itself. From this we learn that the top text isn’t omniscient and can be mistaken: It’s written from a limited perspective.

And here’s Radi’s entry:

The light,* forgotten.

The plague, the infection, the madness that haunts the corpses of Hallownest... the light that screams out from the eyes of this dead Kingdom. What is the source? I suppose mere mortals like myself will never understand.

Here, the top text has information that the Hunter doesn’t, and which only a handful of bugs are privy to anymore.

From these three examples, I believe it is safe to say that Ghost is in fact the author of the journal entries’ top segments.

It’s important to remember that the observations these characters make can be not wholly correct, and I’ll bring that up when I believe it to be relevant, but for now let’s build a picture of how a case of the Infection generally progresses by looking at the Hunter’s commentary on Infected Crossroads enemies, and at a handful of characters whose Infection we directly observe: Bretta, Sly, Myla, and Moss Prophet.

The Hunter describes the broad arc of Infection progression in the Violent Husk's entry: “First [the bugs of Hallownest] fell into deep slumber, then they awoke with broken minds, and then their bodies started to deform...”

The two NPCs who we can save from becoming Infected, Bretta and Sly, are initially found emitting orange fog and mumbling to themselves. In Bretta’s case, when listened to, she initially talks about being left behind and forgotten** as she assumes that all people will treat her this way even though she craves affection and attention; Dream Nailed either before or after being listened to, she mentions a “shining figure”.***

Meanwhile, Sly speaks about his pupil Oro and someone named Esmy, and when his symptoms subside he identifies that he was led to the Crossroads village ruins by a dream.****

Listening to Bretta and Sly completely brings them back to reality, after which they leave the underground area entirely to return to Dirtmouth. However, when the player encounters Myla after defeating Soul Master and obtaining Descending Dive, listening to her does not cause any change in her condition despite that she is not yet hostile.

During these encounters, Bretta is surrounded by orange fog, Sly is surrounded by orange fog and his eyes have also begun to turn orange, and Myla's eyes are glowing but there is no fog around her. So, we can deduce that for as long as the orange fog is present, a bug may still be awoken and cured (Bretta and Sly both show no signs of relapse over the course of the game), but once the fog disappears the bug can no longer be saved by external means.

The "deformation" that the Hunter mentions in the Violent Husk entry refers to the large blobs of Infection that develop on the bodies of creatures that have been infected for a long period of time. We observe these upon the Infected Crossroads enemies, as well as on Hollow and the Moss Prophet. We also see that these Infection tumors can eventually kill bugs once they grow too large and impede bodily functions, just like real cancer: The Moss Prophet and Mossy Vagabonds are all discovered in this state after the Crossroads become infected, as are the Husk Guards in the Crossroads.

So, the progression we can see here is that bugs become infected through their dreams, and while they can initially be woken, if left alone they will fall into too deep a sleep to wake up. Some time after this they will start to move around again but will be hostile to any creatures that are not infected. And, if left in this state for a very long period of time, they will develop tumorous growths which are potentially fatal.

Potentially fatal. This is an interesting contradiction to a basic assumption that most players - and even Ghost and the Hunter - seem to hold about the Infection: That is, that the Infection functions like a pop-culture zombie plague, and infected creatures are all undead (reanimated dead things that can't be killed); thus that the enemies that respawn after resting or going offscreen are the same ones that Ghost just murdered, and have simply been reanimated by the Infection once again.

But infected creatures can die of the Infection. What’s more, bosses and unique instances of generic enemies (such as Myla and the Moss Knight at the pier of Unn’s lake) do not respawn once killed. And it’s definitely not that Ghost killed them that counts: Traitor Lord dies whether Ghost fights him solo or whether Cloth is brought along, in which case she always gets the final blow. This creates the argument that the respawning generics are NOT in fact the same individuals reanimated over and over, but different individuals of the same enemy class, and that their different respawn rates speak to how plentiful those creatures are - small animals respawning faster because a new one will arrive in the recently killed one’s territory sooner, for instance.

Ghost and the Hunter both seem to assume that infected enemies are all undead - many creatures are identified as “husks” or “the remains of [whatever specific bug]” in the Hunter's Journal. But we’ve already established that sometimes Ghost and the Hunter are wrong.

So, if infected creatures aren’t undead, then what are they?

SOURCES:

* I find it a very interesting tidbit of characterization for Ghost that they refer to Radiance as the Light, as native bugs do, rather than calling her the Old Light, as Hallownest bugs did. This has some fascinating implications for where Ghost feels their allegiances to be, but that's neither here nor there right now lol.

** “Ohhh... please... don’t leave me behind! You... forgot about me...? I knew you would... everyone always forgets about me...” - Bretta’s dialogue, Fungal Wastes encounter

*** “...Shining figure...So bright...” - Bretta’s Dream Nail dialogue, Fungal Wastes encounter

**** “...ugghh, Oro you oaf.... You wield your nail... like a club... ...Esmy... how much deeper do we have to go... Oh! What?! Who are you?! ...I see. This old village. What a strange dream, to have led me down here! If you hadn’t found me, I don’t think I would’ve ever woken.” - Sly’s dialogue, Crossroads village encounter

WHAT

In a move very on-brand for Hollow Knight, there’s actually a line from Seer that gives the whole game away - and I mean this incredibly literally, she declares her loyalty to Radiance and says Fuck Hallownest and also hints at what she hopes for from Ghost all in two breaths!! - except that most players are never going to see this line because Seer only says this if you screw up platforming in the Forgotten Dream and yeet yourself off a platform before picking up the Dream Nail.

I do not doubt that I could wring a whole essay out of this one line by itself (and Seer deserves an essay from me so maybe I will), but today the part we’re concerned with is the third line of this dialogue, i.e. how she describes the Dream Nail to Ghost: “The power to wake this world from its slumber[.]”

Its slumber.

The Infection doesn’t only spread through dreams. It is a dream.

To put it in a more meta/video game mechanics sort of way, the Infection is a status ailment. Sleep exists as a common status ailment in RPGs, strategy games, and even some adventure games and platformers. Usually the status ailment of sleep is a mild nuisance that wears off after time, when a character is struck, or if the requisite curative is used; in comparison the Infection is Sleep But Bass Boosted. Appropriate, for a glorified status ailment that’s inflicted by the literal actual god of dreams.

The Infection can only be cured in the very early stages. Once an infected creature has fallen into a coma, there’s no longer any hope of a third party breaking the curse... and also, infected creatures sleepwalk. Violently.

This may also provide an explanation for why mummified bugs in the catacombs have been infected, too: If they were freshly dead and their lingering spirit was still attached enough to their corpses, and that lingering spirit retained enough of a mind to dream...

Aside from those mummified bugs, though, I believe it likely that most if not all of the infected enemies in-game are very, very much alive.

Beyond all the dialogue and lore crumbs pointing to the Infection simply being a cursed sleep, this explanation makes the most sense when thinking about Radiance as a character. She is the literal embodiment of dreams as well as the sun, so inflicting eternal slumber with bonus malignant sleepwalking is a natural extension of her power and a way to use it offensively without being directly violent.

(I've written about this at length elsewhere, but signs point to Radiance having been a pacifist prior to the Pale King’s invasion. Short version: The Moth Tribe were pacifists and Radiance was the center of their culture so it would be odd if she were an exception; she is incapable of inflicting any physical harm whatsoever in a game where lack of contact damage from an active enemy indicates helplessness and such enemies always flee from Ghost unless they have a tool they can use to fight with; her behavior in her boss battles indicates a lack of combat experience, and her nail-generating spells seem to be based on Hollow’s abilities. Real-life adult moths cannot fight - they defend themselves with flight, camouflage, mimicry, and I’m Poisonous So Fuck Off coloring.)

Now, I don’t want to downplay the harm the Infection causes - it doesn’t have to turn bugs into literal undead zombies to be devastating. What we can glean of Hallownest’s ruins suggests that as a state it was heavily dependent on labor to run its industry, so incapacitating the laborers would have turned the whole country on its head, especially because those laborers cannot be woken. The Infection also created an intense atmosphere of terror throughout Hallownest as bugs tried to discover ways to cure it or at least protect themselves. And as the Hunter observes,* because of how the Infection is caused, the harder you try to block Radiance out, the worse the Infection will get.

(A sidebar: Interestingly, the Infection's progress seems to be very slow when a creature willingly accepts it; Moss Prophet has Infection tumors when met but doesn’t die of them until the Crossroads is infected, though many Crossroads bugs are found dead of tumors immediately. Traitor Lord and his followers opted in to the Infection long ago, but Traitor Lord is still at the “orange fog” stage and could theoretically be cured, if he wanted to be. Both Traitor Lord and Moss Prophet are still completely lucid, too.)

Radiance may not have committed any direct violence against Hallownest, but the Infection does incite violence: infected creatures become hostile to and will attack the uninfected. And as we’ve discussed, the Infection itself can become fatal once it’s progressed far enough for tumorous growths to form.

A god smiting the shit out of her people’s oppressors by nonviolently but thoroughly disrupting their kingdom, Especially if that kingdom is a genocidal colonialist slave state,** as a Let My People Go And Leave Me Alone :) ultimatum is not unreasonable. (And Moss Prophet tells us point-blank that literally just listening to Radiance in the first place would have prevented the Infection before it began!) But despite that Hallownest as an institution is unambiguously awful, Hallownest bugs victimized by their own state (such as the maggot slaves and other menial workers) probably saw much less benefit from Hallownest’s genocides than the rich and nobility, and likely deserved the smiting way less than said rich and nobility.

Meanwhile Hallownest’s neighbors - all native nations who are just as much victims of TPK’s bullshit as the Moth Tribe - did not deserve to get caught up in the smiting at all.

Lateral harm in Hollow Knight is another topic that deserves its own essay - and more than that, lots of in-depth conversation! - but, again, that’s not the topic we want to focus on today. I do want to make it clear, though, that infected creatures being alive and theoretically wakeable if the curse should end doesn’t suddenly mean the Infection was actually no big deal. If you want your jimmies rustled, try Dream Nailing enemies that pull from the generic Dream Nail dialogue pool: They are on some level aware that they’re dreaming and can’t wake.***

Clues that the Infection is literally a dream are littered all over the game, from Elderbug’s initial dialogue**** to the name of ending 3, Dream No More - not only named that because that’s the ending where Ghost sacrifices Radiance’s life as well as their own to end Hollow’s suffering rather than only sacrificing their freedom.

Some of what Bardoon and Moss Prophet have to say about the Infection is suggestive of the nature of this dream, though. Moss Prophet appeals to their audience to find unity through the Infection,***** and Bardoon also remarks on this, though he cautions that this comes at the cost of being reduced to instinct.****** Dreaming does tend to come hand in hand with lack of inhibition and suggestibility, but I’m more interested in what Moss Prophet and Bardoon mean by unity, since infected creatures’ thoughts are different depending on what they are and what they were already doing while awake.

There's less specific hard evidence for this aside from how we can observe that Infection blobs are connected to Radiance, transmitting her heartbeat and birthing the Lightseeds, her unintended creations. But given that those blobs do originate from Infection fluid according to the Hunter... Radiance is not just the embodiment of dreams but the heart of THE Dream. So could the Infection be a forcible pseudo-immersion into that capital-D Dream, the Dream Realm itself?

Whether my hunch here is right or not, I can’t in good faith end this essay without bringing all y’all’s attention to absolutely my favorite bit of The Infection Is A Dream foreshadowing: The way multiple parties mention the fact that the Infection smells and tastes sweet.*******

You know... it’s sweet... it’s a sweet dream... get it.........

And now that you can no longer unsee that brilliantly awful pun, I think I'll see myself out!

SOURCES:

* “The infection that swept through Hallownest so long ago... they say that the harder you struggled against it, the more it consumed you.” - Hunter’s commentary, Slobbering Husk Hunter’s Journal entry.

** I’m referring, of course, to the maggots. See: “Weakest members of the kingdom of Hallownest. Generally looked down upon and forced to do menial labour.” (Ghost’s commentary) and “If they try to bargain for their life, just ignore them. They have nothing to offer.” (Hunter’s commentary) from the Maggot Hunter's Journal entry as well as False Knight/Failed Champion’s backstory. Remember also that maggots are the larval form of flies like Sly (you’ll see the resemblance if you compare Sly’s features to the maggot siblings’), meaning Hallownest employs child slavery. In more cheerful news Sly’s backstory must be absolutely goddamn wild.

*** “I’m not...Dead..” “Am I...Sleeping?” “I can’t....Wake up...” - Dream Nail dialogue from generic Hallownest bugs (Wandering Husk, Leaping Husk, Horned Husk, Husk Bully, Husk Warrior) and from God Tamer for some reason

**** “Perhaps dreams aren't such great things after all...” - Elderbug’s initial dialogue

***** “Embrace light! Achieve union!” - Moss Prophet’s dialogue

****** “Theirs is a different kind of unity. Rejection of the Wyrm’s attempt at order. I resist the light’s allure. Union it may offer, but also a mind bereft of thought... To instinct alone a bug is reduced...Hrrm...” - Bardoon’s dialogue (Listen four times, not counting other dialogue flags)

******* “A thick orange mist fills these walking corpses. It has a sweet, sickly taste to it. I find it foul. After you kill these creatures, I suggest you do not eat them.” - Hunter’s commentary, Husk Bully Hunter’s Journal entry, just for one example.

#hollow knight #hollow knight spoilers #hollow knight meta #long post under cut -#essay

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ackermanshoe · 4 years ago

Text

Edited lmao: warning this is kinda pointless and alot of farfetched theory and a veryyy long post please read at your own risk 🤡

Edit again: my analysis when I started it 1 month ago: 👩‍💼🖨️📇✒️🖋️✏️

My post now: 🤡🤡🤡🕯️🕯️🤡

Edit: I started writing this like ages ago but I don't see my own point with this writting and I'm editing it after reading @nini14 's Ackerman breaking the cycle analysis and I feel like both of these go hand in hand. So without further ado:

Triangles

Let's see as we all are made aware that aot significantly revolves around trios of friends such as the following :

Although these are the main trios that is noticeable, other trios can be made out by taking some characters from their original trios to make trios based on looks / character and dynamics. And this is where my argument comes in with this trio:

Their dynamic has always been mother father and son. Now let me explain, idk if anyone has heard about the drama triangle but here

These terms can be applied to MLE trio, Levi being the persecutor, Mikasa is the rescuer and the victim being Eren. In the first 3 seasons at least, Eren was being taken away and his decisions constently put him in danger, Levi being the persecutor who always gives Eren what he deserves for being a pain the ass and Mikasa being the rescuer always siding with Eren and protecting him no matter what. Do you see it?

This is Mikasa to a T.

The following is an example of the dad being the rescuer and the son "junior" being a victim, and much like Eren, could possibly refuse the hand that is helping him.

So that being said now that we have an understanding of their dynamics in the relationship, let's get back to understanding a triangle. Did you know triangles are one of the strongest shape because it has three sides that rely on each other hence shifting their energies on to each side and it makes the perfect shape for a bridge, architectures favourite. Why am I tell you this?

Because these dynamics that every trio is made up of in aot is because they have strong relationships.

Someone mentioned isayama loves putting move triangles and I couldn't help but agree, look at how many times he has placed Eren historia and an angry Mikasa? And subtly he has always ( to me at least) hinted the love triangle between Levi Mikasa and Eren, outside of their father-mother-son dynamic. Personally this makes sense to me the most, fueled by mikasa's dream. A choice was there to make and she unknowingly chose Levi.

Now this brings me to the death of all the trios Levi has been part of, from Isabel & Farlan to hanjo & Erwin to where we are now. Our situation before S4 was EMA+Levi = 4 people but we all know that a square isn't as strong as a triangle so something shifted. Eren, even with him in it Armin and him were more connected as for Levi and Mikasa as a pair it was more obvious. Especially in the conversation EMA had in that stare place as depicted on @gilly-bj 's analysis on similarities between rivamika and Mika's parents. Not only was Mikasa placed directly next to Levi although being feets apart in reality but her lines "another conversation only you two understand" it. Visually and verbally divided Mikasa from Eren and Armin and connected her to Levi. Both alone.

Yet another triangle placed by isayama intentionally or not is Armin Mikasa and Levi.

Because a triangle represents the process of recycle and reuse it also represent the cycle of life, an on going thing that doesn't stop, a history that repeats itself. And going back to Ackerman finally breaking this cycle of tragic fate, will they?

The fact that the whole manga series start at chapter 0 is very suspicious in it self. Why does it isyamaa? A 0, a circle that comes back around? A 0 which represents both the ending and the beginning? Why is the 1st chapter called "to you, 2000 years from now"? ( That's such a fucking impactful chapter name gives me chills )

Before my theory start I just wanna add that the story started from a narrative perspective makes me wanna believe in rivamika even more. Did eldians share the same fate in 2000 years? Who knows, but I know for sure Erens and mikasa's dynamic as the impulsive hotheaded doer and their protective calm but strong friend thinker will continue forever just like the never ending triangles.

I forgot all these ppls names on chaoter 0 so PLS bare with me.

The main dude who heavily resembles Mikasa even tho he is a man, has a incredible power just like the Ackerman's as a human AND he can shift into a titan???? Last time I checked weren't Ackerman's the bio product of titans? Remember is science is on a ongoing journey and forever progressing towards the impossible ;)

Hmmm

The little girl who resembles Gabi, who has the same dynamic as Eren, the girl also looks up to his inhumanly powers, a little too much alike Eren's idolisation of Levi ( and looking up to Mikasa's strength I think )?

Lastly, chapter 0 makes me believe it was set in the future. Look at the buildings, 2 story buildings I don't remember seeing buildings like this in the pre time skip era have you? I could be wrong tho.

If Isayama is as smart as we think he is then he might have related this chapter to the whole plot of aot. 🤷 Or it could mean something. And here's where my theory comes in and it may not be the most favourable for eldians. Let me start with the good part tho, the guy who looked like Mikasa is could be a descendant from the Ackerman clan, but he isn't half and half like Mikasa and Levi, he's full blooded. Which might be why he has the power to shift ( idk this kinda don't make sense since Mikasa and Levi can't buy hush )

So let's say rivamika got married had a family they always wanted and had the peaceful life and 2000 years from then this guy^ existed. Oddly familiar to great great great grammakasa 💀💀.

The cycle never ended for eldians, the whole world could still be mad at them for Erens action and has the prejudice against them for a long time. And the fact that they can shift is never going to change even 2000 years in the future. And the guy ( omg I keep calling him the guy cause I literally can not be bothered figuring out his name ) who lives in a far more developed society with richer civilization within the wall. It could be possible that Ymir or someone erased the eldians memories ONCE AGAIN after the rumbling ended. Because Mikasa levi weren't effected they probably were excused and got to live as they pleased. This dude is also the reason why I believe isayama does not consider the Ackerman's as side characters at all. In the end the story might have actually started with them, alluding to "the ending is just the beginning" as said by kingsama himself. ( Wtf am I saying lol )

So yeah in conclusion as I said yes story is weirdly really influenced by a large amount of triangles and loops. And yes ackerman probably would break the cycle of death after all living through hell fighting hell all for what? If not recreating into a heaven, giving it new life. I do believe in rivamika living the life they are destined for with each other but eldians fate might just be too tragic for me to see them as truly free people who gets to roam around outside the walls as they please.

I guess my point is that everything that goes around will come around, that will bring good karma for the Ackerman's and maybe a repeation of the past for the rest of the world. 😩😩 I think I fully somehow believe Eren is gone for good. Unless isayama draws him waking up from a long dream on his bed then 💀👀👀 I will throw myself away.

Thank you for reading 💞 once again I'm so sorry this post isn't as good as I'd like it to be I am sleep deprived right now and it isn't worded as well as of like it to be. But hope my delulu ness was enjoyable at least. ✌️💀

#rivamika #levi x mikasa #rivamikacanon #rivamika analysis #rivamika theory?#bullshit

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wobinofylisse · 4 years ago

Note

Gonna ask what your thoughts on Ophion are, so ya can rant about him

Haha, what if I stole your art for this ask @justlarkin ☺ Okay so it’s pretty obvious that I love this big dragon man and his arc as a character is really cool. So quick shout out to old Ophion for being thrown out of the story entirely because they probably don’t know how to write 2 Ophions at once and I kind of get that because having them both fight over you or ending up with one while the other is forced out just feels really wrong. Anyways since Ophion makes me :bighearteyes: this is gonna be essay length. I’ve sort of partitioned off each segment so if you want to jump around that’s fine.

Old Ophion

Young Ophion (personality)

Young Ophion (protagonist)

Date Quest

Ending Thoughts/Rating

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So old Ophion works as an interesting villain. He believes that through conquering the world he’ll be able to bring back his wife and like, considering Olympus and the large amount of people that live their.

That’s fair.

But after existing for eons he’s slowly forgotten his motives and all that remains in his mind is the end goal, no longer even aware of why but he still knows he has to. It’s a drive that’s so strong in his mind he’s willing to hurt others around him and even the reason he plots his coup of the Tycoons.

His memory of his wife has vanished so thoroughly that when the MC appears he doesn’t even recognize his wife’s soul. Something that is always one of the first things a character related to the exiles picks up on, even if only subconsciously.

When he summons young Ophion who literally paralyzes everyone in the room just by existing, his first thought when approaching you isn’t to follow the orders of his elder, something that he strongly believes in. His first thought is to embrace the wife that he’s missed for so long, even choosing to protect her over following his own beliefs of seniority and subsequently seeing just how far his older self has fallen.

It’s interesting to see that even though his sense of duty to claim the world remained, when he was confronted by his wife he neither recognized her or swayed from his duty to save her. It instills a sort of sadness in me that I’m not sure how to put into words.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Anyways that’s enough about old Ophion. Let’s talk about the present and how young Ophion is getting along with everyone. When young Ophion arrived in Tokyo (after his initial appearance) personality wise he wasn’t too dissimilar to his older counterpart. He was still relatively cold to others and he still held the general ruling class opinion that most of the tycoons hold. However over time he’s become warmer towards others and learns to let go of grudges. Even to the point that he’s aware of Aizen’s plan from the start in Valentine Jail but instead of putting a stop to it, he sets up a way to end it at any point if need be and let him go through with it. While initially unaware of Aizen’s feelings, after learning them he forgives Aizen and even goes pretty light on his punishment. His growth as a character is thanks to the protagonist and he’s constantly changing to become a better version of himself for them.

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Literally cannot have a long post about Ophion without going into his relationship with the protagonist. At the start he views the protagonist as his wife. Potentially as either her reincarnation or simply a vessel without her memories. Irregardless of the case, he chooses to devote himself heart and soul to them. He neither tries to change them to become more like his wife or even chases after them as he would truly do for his wife. Whether it was something he always knew or something that slowly made it’s way in. He knows that the protagonist isn’t really his wife, that they’re their own individual being separate from her regardless of her soul being present. Ophion while it may become difficult to tell with just how loud he is about his love for his wife. Understands that you are your own person. He understands that you may choose to love someone else but in his heart he truly believes that in the end you will choose him. He’s willing to wait as long as it takes for you to see it. Although he isn’t just going to stand around doing nothing till you decide to fall into his arms. While he won’t stop you from loving another, he will actively make his move. In his valentine quest he buys a section of Roppongi so that he can spell out your name in the lights of the city. It’s an impressive gesture but even so he feels that it not only wasn’t enough but he’s even worried that it wasn’t enough, that you would even make fun of him for it. However this gesture is his attempt to seduce you, not his wife, but you. The successor to her, one that shines so brilliantly he would do anything to prove his love. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Since it’s not officially translated I’ll just give a brief summary of his date but for the actual full thing https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZQ2U3dlXnlc Are you gonna post this video every chance you get? Bitch I might! Ophion drives you to a helipad, takes you up into a helicopter, PROPOSES to you, leaps out of the helicopter mid-flight with you in his arms and then takes you home so he can preform his husbandly duties. THIS MAN. OPHION SAYS NO TO PRE-MARITAL SEX! KING SHIT!

Also quick end note here. He’s aware that you won’t live forever and eventually your time together will come to an end. But he will never stop following you and will search for your soul no matter where or what form it may take, just as he has for his late wife.

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Hnnnng How could I go through this entire thing without even mentioning that he’s hot too! He better button up those pants before he learns that I’ve got a serious case of the munchies! This man has shown that he canonically gets more powerful while naked and he is one of few characters that has been shown full frontal nudity in this game that’s rated T. This man’s slussy is OUT AND POPPING

10/10! no 100/10 This man deserves the world and the stars not only in this reality but any that we may find ourselves in. I don’t think they’ll ever be able to create a character that can take his place and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

#God I love him so much #Thank you Lark #Ophion #Yearning #long post #ask me #tokyo afterschool summoners #housamo #Slussy #<3

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crimsonseekers · 3 years ago

Text

Fic Writer Interview

Tagged by @aphrodaisyacs! Thank you! :D

Name(s): Crimson, or Crim as I've been assigned by friends

Fandom(s): Ones I've written for are BNHA, Transformers, Sk8, JJK, HTTYD, Pokemon, and Hetalia. Those last three are on an old FFnet account I refuse to let see the light of day.

Where you post: AO3 (but as stated before I used to write on FFnet lmao)

Most popular one-shot (by kudos): League of Villains? League of Flat Earthers

I won't lie, I wrote that fic in maybe three or four hours on a whim following the unexpected success of my first bnha fic. Which brings me to my next point of why is it always the fics I put the least effort into or write on a whim that do the best (*side eyes entire [insert tragic backstory] series*)

Most popular multi-chap (also by kudos): area cryptid upset no one bothered to inform him of his tragic backstory

this is my most popular fice by a not insignificant margin lmao. i tell this story in discord all the time but i literally wrote it while dissociating during zoom calls and then decided to post it because it got long so why not? and then it got popular so i kept writing bnha fic and now i'm here.

Favorite story you've written so far: i'd say either a blood crown for two or love is stored in the medical stapler hidden in the anti paparazzi blanket

blood crown was a self-indulgent project that i didn't think there would be any audience for, so i was super happy that other people enjoyed it as well. the other one was a joke fic written when i joined CTABB in roughly two and a half hours, and is honestly one of the best times i ever had writing a fic.

Fics you were nervous to post: mmmm i don't really get nervous when posting, but if i had to point at one, then it'd probably be catch me when i fall (rated E). it was just a fic written in a fever dream, a weirdly charged emotional study of hawks and nagant's relationship, published within roughly 36 hours of me learning she had a name. it was just i knew that with her being such a new character, it was definitely going to be niche, so i wasn't sure what the reaction was going to be

How do you choose your titles: it kind of depends on the type of fic i'm writing, to be honest. with crack/humor fics, i just come up with the worst possible way of describing the premise (ex. "area cryptid upset no one bother to inform him of his tragic backstory," "diamonds are capitalism, shiny pebbles are forever,"). for fics with a more serious tone, i try to choose something that alludes to the climax or main plot point/emotional core (ex. "a blood crown for two," "where we fly on metal wings," "This Address Does Not Exist"), and sometimes i use the ye olde song lyric method if i'm really stuck (ex. "don't forget me when i let the water take me," "because with us you're free to sea,")

Do you outline?: lmao no.

okay, it's a bit more complicated than that. I've outlined maybe four or five fics ever - two of them were for zine fics because words weren't coming easily enough for the check-in, one was just because i thought that's what the multi-chap process was supposed to look like and was honestly more of a meme than an outline, and i currently have one that's an actual outline because it's a very plot-heavy au

Complete: like,,,, five zine fics (soon to be six since i need to finish one before the deadline in two hours lmao) that are locked in zine jail, the next installment of f1 au that's locked in beta jail, and a few fics that i wrote out by hand an still haven't typed up despite the fact they have started gathering visible dust

In-progress: A DabiHawks Pathologic AU, a sword spirit road trip AU, a catbi fic, another seven zine fics, four big bang fics, cyberpunk au sequel, and probably another five i'm forgetting because my life has spiraled out of control and this is less an interview than a desperate cry for help-

Coming soon: ....i uh.... am a tad burned out as the kids say, so the only thing i can definitively say is coming soon is my dabi bang fic, for which the premise is "the entire league thinks dabi is touch starved and thus touch avoidant but he's actually just severely immunocompromised" because i have a deadline on that lmao

Not started: more than i'm willing to admit - if i've ever mentioned or shown off an au that i didn't list as "in progress," chances are i haven't started it or have just put it on the back burner

Prompts? area cryptid and league of flat earthers actually both stemmed from the same prompt, but apart from those two the only fics i've written from prompts were for a valentines exchange i did with some friends last year - "Ritus," "Uncouth," "Not Exactly Procedure," and "Just Us"

Upcoming work you're most excited about: hmmmm my Whump Bang fic and my Hawks Bang fic are both going to cause significant pain and i can't wait to show them off, but my pathologic and sword spirit fics are also going to be excellent (once i actually work on them lmao)

No pressure tags: (i'm sorry if you've already been tagged, but it's been pre-established that i'm very out of the loop) @theycallmebol @amethystunarmed @draphrawrites @bittermoonswrites

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bamfdaddio · 4 years ago

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X-Men Abridged: 1976

The X-Men, those fiery mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. Want to unravel this tapestry? Then read the Abridged X-Men!

(X-Men 97 - 102) - by Chris Claremont and Dave Cockrum

If I ever participate in Drag Race, this will be my entrance look. (“Hear me, bitches! No longer am I the woman you knew! I am fierce! I am fashion incarnate! Now and forever, the winner of season 27!” *mugs at camera* ) (X-Men 101)

It really amazes me how quickly Claremont shifts things into high gear. One year in and he absolutely does not calm down, giving us both the Shi’ar, more Sentinels and the (motherfucking) Phoenix. SO LET'S GOOOO

You’d think that, as a telepath, Charles would be used to dreaming absolutely twisted shit, surfing everybody else´s freaky dream waves, but apparently, vividly dreaming of space is so exhausting that he needs a vacation.

To be fair, I’d be exhausted too if I dreamt of schizo space bugs on detailed splash pages. Get into it, Mr. Cockrum. (X-Men 97)

Meanwhile, Alex and Lorna have absconded to the sizzling Rio Diablo to work on their doctorates. It’s unclear what they’re studying (archaeology?) and where this Rio Diablo is (Panama, Chili, Ecuador?), but considering that Rio means River, I’m unsure whether drawing a dry dry desert is the appropriate setting. But hey, this was the pre-Google era and you’re not here for topographical nitpicking, so.

Lorna is shot by an unknown assailant and continues the long, long history of Polaris being mentally overtaken by other entities. Together with the equally not-himself Havoc, they travel back to NYC and attack the plane Xavier is boarding. The X-Men battle them, until it is revealed that these former not-quite-X-Men are in league with… Eric the Red?

Scott is all: But I was Eric the Red! Also, Eric the Red does not exist!

Xavier escapes, apparently not giving a fuck that all kinds of X-Men are demolishing the JFK airport, but the still-evil Havok and Polaris also get away. The X-Men are shook!

Some time later, The X-Men celebrate X-Mas at Rockefeller Square, where Claremont skips some steps in favour of narrative expediency. Moira and Sean are apparently in a relationship, Jean and Storm are the best of friends. It’s some pretty rough telling, not showing, but we’ll allow it, but only because the Storm/Jean-friendship is one of my favourite things.

What, you think only the movies indulged in Lee/Kirby-cameos? (X-Men 98)

Anyway, Jean and Scott are attacked by the Sentinels, who continue their trend of being way too sneaky for supersized racist robots! Xavier is kidnapped on his boat trip with super-duper scientist Peter Corbeau (seriously, he has two Nobel Prizes), while they steal away Jean, Sean and Logan in NYC. When they come to, there’s some gloating from Stephen Lang.

Jean Grey being a literal pin-up while delivering nazi-burns is such a big middle finger to everything she was in the sixties and I am here for it. (X-Men 98)

When the three kidnapped X-Men make a break for it and escape the Sentinel’s clutches, they burst through a wall, only to be greeted by the cold vacuum of space! They’re not on Earth at all: they’re on a formerly SHIELD space station! GASP! (literally)

In secret, Peter Corbeau, inventor of sliced bread, helps the X-Men back on Earth board a space shuttle, where Colossus remembers his brother Mikhail (objectively the worst Rasputin), a kosmonaut who died at the launch of another spacecraft. It’s another Future Plotline Seed©.

The X-Men dodge solar storms which sounds like a made-up contrivance but aren’t, while the Sentinels try to destroy the shuttle. In what the kids these days call a pro-gamer move, the X-Men instead ram the space station and go through to these apparently sub-par Sentinels like Magma through butter. Kurt’s showmanship and Colossus’ loyalty are highlighted, while Cyclops becomes more robotic and repressed the more Jean is in danger.

Colossus’ secondary mutation is apparently BEING THE BIGGEST DORK. (X-Men 99)

Scott almost kills Stephen Lang, but then Stephen throws his ace in the hole at them: THE OLD X-MEN? This reveal throws us right in the hallmark one hundredth issue!

And, look. Stephen, this is just a terrible plan. Instead of using most of your budget on making more impressive Sentinels, you blow half of it on making janky X-Men clones to… what? Confuse the real X-Men?

It works for a hot minute, but Kurt and Ororo quickly figure out something is wrong. This Beast, for example, isn’t hairy and this Jean doesn’t remember being in Storm’s confidence. Wolverine is the first to snap: acting on instinct, he kills ‘Jean’, proving she’s an android.

Stephen Lang, foiled by the X-Men’s logical thinking skills (which, to be fair, are notoriously unreliable), spews some hatred and accidentally blows himself up. Nothing of value is lost.

Too bad the X-Men can’t return to Earth: their space shuttle is too damaged. I actually love this: going to space is kind of a big deal for most people and the fact that the X-Men have trouble because they’re stranded in space lends them a kind of vulnerability that has been lost over the recent years. Jean steps up to the plate, herds the other X-Men into the protected life cell and assumes the pilot seat of the shuttle. This is after zapping Cyclops into unconsciousness and telling the other X-Men to kindly fuck off when they try to stop her.

As the X-Men descend onto the Earth, Jean’s telekinesis isn’t enough to protect her as she’s engulfed by solar flares. OR IS SHE?

Nothing funny. All of these panels are just beautiful. Forget those robot copy X-Men, this is why this issue is worthy of being the hundredth one. (X-Men 100)

The space shuttle crashes, rolls over JFK airport before dunking in the water. The X-Men emerge, safe, sound and very lucky and then, defying all odds, Jean emerges as the Phoenix. Fire, life incarnate, etc.

After a brief but melodramatic burst of energy, Jean collapses into unconsciousness and is hospitalized. Wolverine intends to bring her flowers (aw!), before throwing them out when he realizes the gal’s taken, establishing the X-Men’s most famous love triangle. (You can fuck right off with your Scott/Jean/Warren-bullshit.)

I’m not sure what my favorite thing is here: the absolutely bonkers everybody’s-elated-panel (special mention to Kurt’s boots and his bounce) or the subtle character beat where Kurt goes all heart-of-the-team and checks on Scott, who turns out to be not so stoic. (X-Men 101)

Charles orders all the X-Men (except Scott) to go on vacation, so he can take care of Jean. Like, Charles, you’d think they could just go hang out at the X-Mansion. Instead, they go to Ireland because Sean has conveniently inherited the ancestral Cassidy Keep.

All the X-Men dress up fancy for a welcoming feast, and it seems Kurt and Ororo are flirting? But sometimes, it also seems like Ororo and Piotr are flirting? Listen, I’m not judging: I love these polycule vibes from the early X-Men. Especially because neither Kurt nor Ororo have had particularly satisfying romantic plotlines for the past 20 years.

I’m not here to insinuate nothing, but last time I said “I enjoy being with both of you”, it ended up in a spitroast. (X-Men 101)

The soiree is interrupted by… THE JUGGERNAUT, BITCH, and Black Tom, Sean Cassidy’s evil cousin. They are hired by an unknown someone to kill the X-Men! Since nobody subtle is involved, they quickly wreck the castle and everybody tumbles into the dungeons. (Local news paper reports: gay power couple harasses ill-dressed American tourists.)

This story is mostly a vehicle to tells Ororo’s backstory: Storm, one of the few who could conceivably put up a fight to Cain Marko, feels caged by the cold rocks of Cassidy Keep and is incapacitated by her claustrophobia.

Back in the USA, Charles, who’s heard Storm’s mental anguish, is furious with Scott because he doesn’t hop in a plane to save the other X-Men, even though Scott correctly points out that he’ll never get there in time if he leaves now. Meanwhile, Jean awakens, convinced she somehow brought herself back to life. Yeah, you go girl.

While the rest of the X-Men fight the evil duo in Ireland, Claremont tells Storm’s backstory in a few gorgeous spreads.

“I could write a novel about Storm’s backstory.” “You get two pages.” “Deal.” (X-Men 102)

Another classic comics trope appears here, where family members are immune to one another’s powers. I have no idea how Black Tom is immune to Banshee’s sonic scream - he has ears.

Does Black Tom just have a voice in his ears going NEENER NEENER NEENER when Sean screams? (X-Men 102)

When Storm finally pulls herself back together, it’s too late: the Juggernaut has pummeled the other X-Men into a paste and she also falls to his onslaught. IS THIS THE END OF THE X-MEN?!

Other things introduced this year:

Kurt’s image inducer, which he abuses to look like Errol Flynn. (I would abuse it to look like an amalgam of Milo Ventimiglia (ca. Gilmore Girls) and Timothée Chardonnay. OR like Emmy Raver-Lampman.)

The fastball special!

All kinds of name confusion: Lorna is Polaris, Havok is sometimes Havoc and Piotr becomes Peter.

Best new character: Phoenix. Hit me with that iconic shit.

What to read: The Stephen Lang arc is not fully necessary, just read issue 100 and 101. Don’t skip issue 102 if you want to know all about Storm’s past.

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 4 years ago

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After Each Midnight Begins A New Day

Extra #10 - pre-fic

[Masterpost]

Anelmemi over on Ao3 commented on chapter 4: “If you’re taking requests or prompts, the line about baby!Lan Zhan with all the intensity of first timeline 30 year old Lan Zhan is an image that stuck with me. The conversation where he tells his mom about everything would make for an interesting extra.”

So here it is! Disclaimer: I’ve gone in a sliiiightly different direction (in that this is 7k words long and they don’t even get to the part where Lan Zhan tells her everything) BUT - that being said - I think I’m going to use this prompt as the first chapter/installment of a selection of scenes from the Wangxian side of the fix-it. Like you know how I said I wrote AEM as a ‘sequel’ to a fix-it fic that doesn’t exist? I’m gonna make the fix-it fic exist, at least in bits and pieces. I guess I already have kind of been doing that with the amount of pre-fic extras I’ve written for this universe, but none of them have been from the Wangxian side of things where the actual fix-it mechanics are happening. Might be time to change that. We’ll see! Either way, here’s some baby-not-actually-baby!Lan Zhan scaring the living hell out of his mom for you <3

----

Lan Zhan opens his eyes with a gasp, the blindingly blue flash of his and Wei Ying’s array gone as suddenly as it had flared. He’s in the dark now, kneeling in the middle of the floor of a room that is definitely not the addition to the Jingshi he had built to be Wei Ying’s workroom. It takes a long moment for his eyes to adjust but when they do he blinks and forces himself to take slow, deep breaths in and out.

He has to stay calm.

They hadn’t been sure if the array would work, or, if it did, exactly what they would be in for.

Getting separated was, unfortunately, a distinct possibility.

It is now his reality.

He has to focus on what he can control or risk sinking into a despair too deep for him to accomplish the task he and Wei Ying have set for themselves, and he will not break a promise to Wei Ying. They have agreed to try again - he will have to try, and trust that he and Wei Ying will not truly have to be separated again in any life.

Lan Zhan stands slowly to take stock of the situation and immediately becomes disoriented when he rises to his feet only to find that everything is in nearly the same spot in his vision it had been while on his knees. He glances down at himself and holds a hand up in the moonlight and…

Ah. Childhood.

That’s...less than ideal.

Of course while writing the array they hadn’t specified a specific time or age to return to (beyond limiting it to their own lifetimes). To be quite honest Lan Zhan hadn’t entirely been able to follow Wei Ying’s logic for most of the components of the array, but he trusted his husband to ensure it wouldn’t kill them or others. Beyond that, their only desire had been a chance to retain their memories and use the wisdom of their years to heal all the rifts they possibly could in their world, to attempt to soothe the pains that they and everyone they love (who is still alive) have all had to learn to live with.

He’s grateful that it worked.

That being said, he doesn’t particularly want to be a child again. He’s awfully short, after all - and Wei Ying isn’t here, which is perhaps the worst offense.

He reaches up to touch his cheek as he feels something drip down it and his small fingers come away wet with tears; he suppresses a sigh as he tries not to continue crying. It would seem that a toddler’s body is a bit too small and immature to hold the weight of the grief he carries with him in the depths of his soul, and he can already tell by the feeling rising in his chest that trying to contain it will be useless. He dusts his knees off as more tears start to drip down his cheeks and then he turns to walk sedately across the room to his little bed. He crawls into it, buries his face in his pillow, and promptly starts sobbing, the way he hasn’t since the first time he was this age.

When A-Yuan had still been a toddler, there had been some (many) who accused Lan Zhan of being too soft on the boy. He had been prone to crying if left to his own devices for too long, and after the third time he heard of it happening while A-Yuan was supposedly in the care of those who watched the rest of the sect children, Lan Zhan had insisted that the boy remain with him in his seclusion if Lan Xichen needed to be relieved from watching him to attend to business. It meant that A-Yuan had grown up with less socialization amongst his peers as a young boy, but his nature was such that the lack could hardly be seen by the time he had grown out of his fears of separation to join the other children in their classes.

It had also meant that when A-Yuan cried, he was never without a comforting hand in his hair or on his back, soothing him, reminding him that he was not alone, that he would never be left alone again. If his son was spoiled then so be it, but Lan Zhan would not allow his and Wei Ying’s child to grow up bowed under the cold austerity of a rule warning against excessive grief taken to its most extreme interpretation and weaponized against the grief-stricken. Lan Zhan is intimately aware of the products of that rule, and it’s one he refused to enforce - a decision he has never regretted.

Tonight, however, there’s no one to do the same for Lan Zhan. No one is here to pet his hair or talk softly to him about how the rabbits are doing, or tell him a story of the sort he used to tell A-Yuan to distract him. Lan Zhan, unlike his son, is used to it, and so he cries until his head hurts and then he bundles himself up in the tightest ball of blankets he can manage to try to sleep and wait for morning. It’s strange, trying to sleep without Wei Ying crowded into his space, breathing steadily against his neck and muttering under his breath in between soft snores. He eventually manages it when the moon slips behind the mountain again and the room is plunged into the soft almost-black blue of false dawn. In the gentle hum of the world dipping into its deepest hush outside his window he manages to let his exhaustion take over long enough to get a couple more hours of rest.

Lan Zhan wakes at five.

The gong rings through the mountain in exactly the way it always has and he opens his itchy, tired eyes to begin dressing and preparing for the day. His hands are clumsier than they ought to be, his grip weaker than he can ever remember it being and his limbs slightly less cooperative than he would prefer. He manages not to get too frustrated by the dissonance of it, though by the time Lan Xichen comes to fetch him he’s wearing a truly impressive pout (for him) and he watches, disgruntled, as his brother stifles a laugh behind his sleeve.

“Good morning didi,” Lan Xichen greets when he’s done silently laughing at him and Lan Zhan watches in fascination as his brother - still just a child himself, of course - glances both ways up and down the hallway with a mischievous little smile before dropping to one knee and holding his arms out to him. “You look like you had a bad night. Do you want a hug?”

Lan Zhan’s pouting lower lip trembles as he nods and steps forward slowly to tuck himself into Lan Xichen’s chest.

He honestly can’t remember the last time someone besides Wei Ying hugged him (he supposes it must have been A-Yuan, back before he had grown too old to ask for them anymore), but as Lan Xichen wraps him in his arms it feels so entirely natural that he practically melts, going boneless and rubbing his face into the heavy silk on Lan Xichen’s narrow shoulder like a cat seeking affection. Lan Xichen huffs a soft chuckle and squeezes him a little tighter; Lan Zhan wouldn’t be perfectly happy staying like this forever (he misses Wei Ying, and this isn’t helping them find each other again), but he would be perfectly content to stay there for a few days at least, just being held and cared for by his brother while he’s still small enough to reasonably get away with it.

Of course the list of people that Lan Zhan would tolerate such affection from - at any age - is extremely small, limited only to his immediate family - Wei Ying, A-Yuan, Lan Xichen, Lan Qiren (should he ever be the type to offer it). But as Lan Xichen releases him and reaches down to take his hand, as he leads him out of the children’s dormitories and onto the path outside, Lan Zhan realizes that there’s one person he hadn’t even considered as an option but who, especially in his current state, certainly tops the list.

“Mother,” he whispers with tears in his eyes as Madam Lan stands in the open door to the Jingshi, the familiar home still hers.

“Didi?” Lan Xichen asks, startled, as Lan Zhan pulls his hand from his but he doesn’t stop to answer - instead he runs across the courtyard as quickly as his legs can carry him and up the steps to fling himself into his mother’s arms. He likes to imagine that if he were physically the correct age he would be more composed, but he can’t say with complete certainty that that would be the case. His mother has always been special like that. She was the first to ever make him believe that he could be loved and accepted if he revealed the true depth of his feelings - no one else had been able to make him feel that way after her death until Wei Ying.

As it is, though, as young as he is - with all the tumultuous, too-large feelings of childhood despite the age of his soul - he promptly starts crying as he clings to her. Her hands are soft and gentle as she pets his hair and rubs his back precisely as he had done for A-Yuan as a boy, and Lan Zhan hiccups as he presses in closer.

“Zhan-er,” she says warmly above his head and all it does is make him cry a little harder, the tenderness of the greeting and the fact that he hasn’t heard it from a single soul in 32 years hitting him too hard for his little body to handle. “Oh dear,” she says next and he can hear her smiling, he can feel the way she’s suppressing a laugh in the slight shaking of her shoulder under his cheek and he clings.

“I think he had a nightmare last night,” Lan Xichen supplies apologetically as he approaches at the properly sedate pace.

“A good thing it’s your day to come visit, then,” she replies softly, implacably, and Lan Zhan nods his agreement as he hiccups and tries to compose himself with little success. “Come in, Huan-er, I’ve got breakfast for us. Let’s see if we can cheer your brother up together, hm?”

Lan Zhan’s stomach swoops as he’s scooped up while Madam Lan stands and he lets himself be carried into the house. He finally manages to get himself somewhat under control after a while of sitting in his mother’s lap and letting her dry his cheeks with her sleeves, but he’s still hiccuping and crying fresh tears every now and then.

He can’t help but stare. It’s been so long since he’s seen her face, and she’s just as beautiful as he remembers, maybe even more so. She’s serene and gentle in a way he really never sees in anyone but perhaps Lan Xichen. Even A-Yuan, as sweet as he is, still carries the mischievous streak planted in him by Wei Wuxian and encouraged by a lifetime of friendship with Lan Jingyi. Whatever she’s done in the past, no matter what anyone else thinks of the incident that had led to her imprisonment, the woman she is now is so kind, so tender, that Lan Zhan has never once in his life understood the continuation of her imprisonment for so many years.

He watches with wide, solemn eyes as she steadily wipes his cheeks clean when fresh tears replace those that have already fallen, a perpetual little smile on her lips as she talks to Lan Xichen over his head to make sure they both get as much of her attention as they can in their limited time with her.

He eventually manages to stop crying entirely and he’s promptly plied with a bowl of rice for breakfast, which he obediently eats, his eyes still on Madam Lan. He doesn’t want to ever stop looking at her. He had never gotten to say a proper goodbye, had never gotten the closure he needed after her death (not that closure would have helped, most likely. If he’s proven anything to himself it’s that the death of those he loves is not something he handles all that well.)

The point is - his mother was ripped away from him with no warning, and now she’s been returned to him and he will never in this new life take her presence for granted.

As the day goes on and he settles, he can’t shake a feeling of deja vu. It isn’t until they’re nearly ready to leave for the evening that it strikes him.

This is their last day with her. He knows this day, when he had been younger he had replayed the events of it over and over in his mind, searching for something in his behavior that had upset Madam Lan to the point where she didn’t want to see him again. Before he had understood that she had died he had been so sure that it was his fault the door wouldn’t open anymore, that she was inside languishing in disappointment in her youngest son.

And so when Lan Xichen makes as if to bundle him off into the evening just after supper, Lan Zhan takes a page from A-Yuan’s book and sits down to lock his arms around her leg, every ounce of his considerable determination set in stern lines in his serious little face.

“Didi, we have to leave,” Lan Xichen prods - gently - as he kneels in front of him.

“No,” he protests, his voice petulant but he doesn’t care. He’s not letting her go. He’s here to fix things on a much larger scale than anyone around him can yet understand, but he’s going to begin with their mother. They will get to grow up with a mother this time, and a father too if he has anything to say about it. He can fix things for their family first and let the effect spread outwards from Cloud Recesses. A stone dropped into the center of a pool will create ripples that reach all the way to the edges, and if he begins with Madam Lan’s survival and perhaps her return to the world from her isolation, there’s no telling just yet how far such an influence will spread.

Even if it goes no further than their little family, he doesn’t care. He can fix this, so he will.

“A-Zhan,” Lan Xichen tries next, reaching out to tug gently on his sleeve and he holds on tighter, buries his face in the skirts of Madam Lan’s robes.

“No!”

“It’s alright, Huan-er,” Madam Lan soothes as she drops a hand down to rest on top of his head. “Go on ahead, I’ll make sure Zhan-er gets returned to his rooms in time for curfew.”

Lan Zhan turns his head enough to open one eye so he can watch Lan Xichen have a bit of an internal debate before he nods and straightens up to accept one last hug before he turns to leave. The pair of them, Madam Lan and Lan Zhan, stay still and watch him until he disappears down the path and only then does Madam Lan bend down to put her hands under his arms and lift him up onto her hip. She offers him an indulgent look as she leans in to press their foreheads together and he relaxes instantly.

“Zhan-er, what’s gotten into you today, hm?” she asks softly as she shuts the door with her foot to carry him back inside, sitting down on the edge of her bed to set him down on her knees. It should feel strange, he supposes, to be treated like a child like this, picked up and carried around wherever someone else wants to take him. But he’s never known anything else in regards to his mother, he’s never gotten a chance to both be older than a toddler and to know her. In his memories, this is how he remembers her, and so it doesn’t feel strange at all to sit in her lap and study her face like he’s doing his best to memorize it.

“What’s wrong, Zhan-er?” she asks again, even more softly, as she brushes a few stray hairs back from his forehead and runs her thumb along the silk of his ribbon - it must be brand new for him at this age.

“You are going to die,” he says, deciding then and there that he doesn’t have the luxury of trying to find a way to fix things on his own while trying to hide that he’s really a fully-grown man with a husband and child of his own, that he carries a full life’s worth of pain and experiences. He and Wei Ying had agreed that no matter what happened with the array they wouldn’t tell anyone what they had done - it would defeat the purpose of fixing things, and there was also no guarantee that it wouldn’t do harm. In any other circumstance he would agree it’s better to be safe than sorry, but he’s so young - there’s not much he can do but talk to Madam Lan directly and allow her to handle the situation in his stead - or at least help him - without blowing his cover.

Madam Lan blinks down at him for a moment, a small furrow between her brows. How had he never noticed as a child that she doesn’t wear a headband?

“Who told you such a silly thing?” she asks with a hint of a smile and a little tap of her fingertip against the tip of his nose. “Is that what your nightmare was last night?”

“Mother,” he says as seriously as he can manage. (It’s very difficult to sound grave, he realizes, when he’s a literal 5-year-old [he even still has a bit of a childish lisp] but he needs her to understand.) “I have lived this before. This is the last day you will see Xiongzhang and myself. You are going to die. No one has ever told me how.”

Madam Lan blanches at that, though whether it’s because of what he said or because her 5-year-old son is speaking like an adult or a combination of both he isn’t sure.

“Zhan-er, what...what are you talking about?”

He takes a deep breath in and clambers down off her lap to straighten his robes and dust himself off before he offers her a deep bow.

“Mother, please listen to me and trust what I say. I am your son, Lan Zhan, Lan Wangji, Hanguang-Jun, current Chief Cultivator. I have already lived this life, and have returned to my childhood through the power of an experimental array I created with my husband, Wei Ying, Wei Wuxian of Yunmeng Jiang.”

“Zhan-er,” Madam Lan gasps and he looks up to find her definitely far too pale as he blinks owlishly up at her.

“If I leave tonight without warning you of danger, I fear this will once again be my last memory of you.”

The fear in her eyes makes him feel a bit like squirming with guilt for putting it there, but he holds himself still, watching for a sign that she believes him, that she’s taking him seriously. He knows what he must look like - if A-Yuan had ever suddenly started behaving like he is now he would have been very concerned that he had been possessed. Judging by the look on Madam Lan’s face, it’s entirely possible that that’s exactly what’s on her mind.

“Mother, please, you must believe me. Wei Ying and I wish to right the wrongs done to those around us, to live with no regrets. We have made many painful choices in our lives, as have all of those we care for. We have decided to attempt the impossible and rewrite the past.”

“You..But you....”

Lan Zhan stays still and watches as Madam Lan clearly tries to piece things together. He’s dismayed - though not entirely surprised - when she faints backwards onto the bed, but he supposes it’s better than if she had outright tried to say that he couldn’t possibly be telling the truth. He climbs up onto the bed to sit beside her and make sure she’s otherwise alright before he settles down to wait patiently for her to wake.

It doesn’t take too long, thankfully, and he can’t help but reach out to put the back of one small hand against her forehead to check her temperature when she blinks her eyes open.

“Do you feel alright?” he asks as he watches her face go through a series of interesting emotions in quick succession.

She sits up slowly to look down at him with an expression that seems to have settled on something like incredulity and bemusement. “I think you must see why that question is not easily answered at the moment.”

“Mn. It is a strange situation, I understand,” he agrees solemnly with a nod. Madam Lan raises her sleeve to cover her mouth as she bites back a laugh, the corners of her eyes crinkled with mirth.

“Oh Zhan-er,” she says - and then she’s laughing, truly laughing, one hand over her mouth and the other arm curled around her stomach as she laughs in a way that sounds just this side of manic. Years of being married to Wei Ying and he still doesn’t understand how to handle people who deal with their stress by laughing about it.

“Mother?”

“Oh dear, Zhan-er I’m sorry,” she laughs weakly as she wipes at her eyes. “This is just..Well as you said, this is very strange. And you’ve always been a serious child but this is..I’ve never seen a child behave this way!”

“I am 37.”

“Oh dear. Much too old for hugs, then,” she says with a twinkle in her eyes and Lan Zhan has to think about it for a long, dismayed moment before he realizes he’s being teased. He shakes his head ‘no’ and lets her pull him into her arms again to cradle him close, one arm wrapped around his back and the other over his bent knees to hold him in place. “37, hm?” she asks once they’re settled and Lan Zhan nods. “And married?”

“Yes, mother. I also have a son. He is 24.”

“My own baby, married and with a child, hm? And you said Chief Cultivator?”

“Mn. I do not enjoy such a public position but it is necessary.”

Madam Lan laughs at that, though it’s thankfully less frightening than her laughter at the situation as a whole had been. “I have never heard of such a thing but I can only imagine such a position involves quite a lot of talking to other Sect Leaders, which sounds very unpleasant.”

“Mn.”

They’re both quiet for a few long moments, lost in thought. Lan Zhan is only grateful that Madam Lan seems to believe him, and when she breaks the silence again it becomes clear that that is actually the case.

“You said I am going to die soon,” she murmurs and Lan Zhan can’t resist cuddling closer as the pain of losing her flares too hot, too sharp through him.

“I remember this day,” he replies after a few deep breaths and a chance to gather his thoughts. “It is the last day we were allowed to visit. I do not know when, precisely, you passed away, but by the next appointment we were no longer allowed to visit, and...when I came to kneel anyway every month after, your door never opened for me.”

“And you are telling me all of this now to prevent it happening again.”

“Mm. Wei Ying and I performed the spell last night, I am still becoming accustomed to being a child again. I apologize for my outbursts, it is..difficult to control my emotions while so young.”

“Zhan-er, you never have to apologize to me for your feelings,” Madam Lan chastises gently. “No matter your age. I have never wanted you and Huan-er to be raised so..rigidly.”

“Who is keeping you imprisoned?” Lan Zhan asks softly - a question that’s been on his mind since he had been this age originally, and which no one has ever sufficiently answered for him. “Xiongzhang and I always wished we could be raised by you.”

Madam Lan sighs heavily at that and holds him a little tighter. “Qiren is so strict with you two,” she murmurs thoughtfully. “I’ve tried telling your father that you two are growing up to be so serious, so unhappy, but he won’t hear of it. He’s technically the one keeping me here, though I suspect it’s the clan elders speaking through him.”

Lan Zhan can’t help but glare at the wall when the elders are mentioned. The only other person in the world he wishes to argue with as much as he does the elders is Jiang Wanyin.

“I will fix it,” he vows with grim determination.

“Zhan-er,” Madam Lan instantly chastises and he shakes his head, already intent on arguing whatever point she feels needs to be made.

“I will not lose my mother again. The elders have gone too long without challenge. There are many many good things about the Lan that do not need to change, but there are a great many traditions that have become harmful in their execution at least, if not in nature or original intent. I will fix it.”

“You deserve to have a childhood,” Madam Lan argues right back, equally adamant. “It is your father’s duty to lead the Sect, the elders only advise.”

“Uncle is the acting leader of the Sect,” Lan Zhan retorts with a deepening of his frown, this time in confusion. He leans back to look up at Madam Lan, who’s blinking down at him in something like surprise, if a bit muted. “Father is in seclusion, he never again ran the Sect before his death during my boyhood.”

Lan Zhan stays quiet as he watches Madam Lan think through that, wondering just what exactly she’s thinking. Perhaps comparing what she thought she knew to this new information?

It seems that may be the case when she quietly murmurs,“Well that..that does change a few things,” after a long while, her eyes distant. “Maybe we should compromise. You can tell me what you know, and perhaps what you plan to do in regards to the elders, and I will do my best to listen and perhaps together we can come up with something that will work. Does that sound alright?”

Compromise. Lan Zhan hates compromise, has hated it with a passion since the day he watched the Sect Leaders of his youth decide that ‘compromise’ meant ‘kill Wei Wuxian’, and he definitely hasn’t grown any fonder of it since it’s become his turn to ‘compromise’ with many of those same Sect Leaders on a near daily basis as the Chief Cultivator. But these are, he will admit, wildly different circumstances, and for a much better purpose than yet another boundary dispute or arguing over who should receive more disciples from the local families.

He nods and opens his mouth to begin the story at the beginning - and yawns so widely his jaw gives a tiny little pop.

“Oh dear,” Madam Lan chuckles as she snuggles him tighter and rocks him slightly back and forth. It’s shocking how heavy his eyelids feel all of the sudden as she does so and he huffs a sigh with an accompanying pout, irritated with his young body that apparently tires far too quickly. “I believe our plan shall have to wait until morning. You’ve had a long day.”

“Being a child is frustrating,” he confesses and Madam Lan laughs her bright, bell-like laugh - hearing it has always been one of his most treasured memories and to hear it now again in the flesh makes him so happy his irritation with his youthful limitations dissipates in an instant.

“I would imagine so. What an interesting puzzle you are, my Zhan-er,” she sighs as she continues rocking him gently, the repetitive swaying motion dragging his eyelids further and further down despite his best attempts to stay awake. “Such an old soul in the body of a child. So wise and self-assured like an adult, and yet quick to fluster, quick to cry, just like a child. I can only imagine how frustrated you must be.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan manages to hum even as he slips further down into her lap to rest his head in the crook of her elbow, getting comfortable.

“Go to sleep, Zhan-er. We’ll figure this out in the morning, alright? You’re not going to lose me again, I’m here.”

Lan Zhan drifts off to sleep in his mother’s arms for the first time in his life that he can remember, and it’s mercifully deep and dreamless.

----

When Lan Zhan wakes in the morning it’s with a gasp and the vague fear that his mother has, despite his best intentions, died inexplicably once again in the middle of the night. He sits up quickly and looks around the Jingshi just as the gong tolls and he only relaxes when he realizes that she had made him a little nest of blankets to rest in on the outer edge of the bed while she had taken the inside beneath the window.

He clambers down out of bed to go about getting ready for the day. He locates his ribbon where Madam Lan had removed it for him and carefully coiled it into a neat loop; he’s moments away from putting it on before he sets it down again to wait. Wei Ying likes to put it on for him these days - or rather, he supposes, in the future (this is going to give him a headache) - and while Wei Ying can’t do it for him right now, he feels it would be equally as special to ask his mother to help him with it instead.

He explores the Jingshi, acquainting himself with how Madam Lan organizes the familiar space. He finds basic food stored near the small hearth the house had contained before he had modified it himself to accommodate cooking for A-Yuan as a boy, and he takes a moment to set out what they’ll need for breakfast before he withdraws again to meditate. Perhaps, he supposes, if he can center himself and calm his energy he’ll be able to avoid further emotional outbursts. If he’s going to tell his mother all the details of his first life while so emotionally volatile, it’s going to be a very long day indeed. He’ll appreciate beginning it more at peace than he had begun the day before.

He settles into the familiar pattern of breathing and being, just..existing, doing his best to feel and let go, to accept that this is his reality now. He’s starting his life over. He can try again. He can not only avert the broad tragedies that had affected the world at large, he can also repair his own life.

The most obvious personal change will be that he can openly love Wei Ying from the moment they see each other again. He can live an entire lifetime with his beloved at his side, his other half, the bright sun to his distant moon.

Perhaps less obvious of a consequence but one that he suddenly realizes he wants just as badly - he can be closer to his family. Raising A-Yuan had taught him much about the sort of family he wanted to have. The closeness, the affection, the warmth present in their home even when he had been outwardly as cool and aloof as ever. He had never let A-Yuan believe for a moment that he wasn’t adored, he had taught him how to see Lan Zhan’s love for him, had taught him that it was boundless, had taught him to turn that love outwards in a way that Lan Zhan had never been allowed to. He had raised their son to be sweet and kind to everyone he met, Wei Ying had taught him to smile and laugh and to understand so he could forgive.

He can do that again, but this time he’ll start with the members of his family he had been too late to understand the first time. He can help guide Lan Xichen through the confusing mires of childhood, attempt to create an even closer relationship between them than in their first life - a relationship in which they’re free to just be brothers and Lan Xichen doesn’t have the weight of being his Sect Leader on his shoulders as well. He can ensure that they get to grow up with a mother to guide them, her gentle affection thawing the cold austerity the Lan push their children into. He can save Father, he can keep Uncle from becoming bitter and overly rigid in his ways. There’s so much time stretching out ahead of them, he’s sure he can repair their fractured little family and help nurture it into something beautiful.

“Zhan-er?” Madam Lan calls some time later and Lan Zhan opens his eyes to find her already ready for the day with his ribbon in her hands, her expression a question.

“My hands are still clumsy with childhood,” he replies solemnly, looking up at her with wide eyes. “Will you tie it for me?”

“Of course,” she agrees with a faint hint of a smile. “May I assume you’re still an adult in there?” she teases gently as she knees behind him to start threading the ribbon through his simple hairstyle and tie it securely.

“Mn. I am making plans.”

“I can’t wait to hear them.”

Lan Zhan hums his acknowledgement just as she finishes tying his ribbon and he can’t help but relax when she puts her hands on his shoulders to smooth out the fabric of his little robes and sweep his hair properly behind his neck. They’re interrupted by a sudden knock at the door and Lan Zhan frowns, though Madam Lan doesn’t seem surprised at all. Rather she stands and crosses the house with graceful steps and after a moment Lan Zhan stands to drift after her silently.

“Lan Qiren,” she greets with ice in her voice as soon as the door opens and Lan Zhan blinks in surprise. Uncle? He had always thought that Lan Qiren never approached the Jingshi while it was still Madam Lan’s residence - he and Lan Xichen had been making the journey to it from the dormitories unaccompanied since the visits began, and he supposes now that he had just..never bothered to wonder who else came to see Madam Lan besides them and the servants who tended to her. She doesn’t sound surprised, though, to have Lan Qiren on her doorstep, so it must not have been entirely outside the realm of possibility.

“Wen Yun.”

Wen Yun? Wen?

Lan Zhan feels like he just got hit with a hammer between the eyes.

He had never known his mother’s name. Perhaps most people would find that strange, but Lan Zhan had never truly questioned it (beyond wishing that he did know it). She was a criminal in the eyes of the Lan Sect after all; certainly no one had ever thought to tell him her given name when he had been a child, and by the time he was old enough to know he hadn’t known who or how to ask. She wasn’t even in the clan records - or in the ancestral shrine - as anything but Madam Lan, reduced to nothing more than her married title that she hadn’t even wanted. The disrespect of it still rankles him to this day. But..

Wen Yun. She’s a Wen. He is a Wen, certainly by blood if never knowingly by name. That’s..an interesting thing to process. Even more interesting that Lan Qiren has known, all this time, and had never breathed a word of it to anyone that Lan Zhan was aware of, even before the Wens’ destruction during the Sunshot Campaign. He hadn’t expected to be quite so caught off guard by anything he could learn by returning to his childhood, considering he had already lived it once, but clearly he’s going to need to rethink that very quickly.

“Wangji.” Lan Qiren’s voice is sharp, remonstrative, and Lan Zhan instantly focuses on the present again. He can’t, under any circumstances, let Lan Qiren know that he is who he is, but he also can’t help but feel an all-too-familiar surge of (perhaps slightly petty) rebellion in his chest at that tone of voice, at being scolded like the young child he outwardly appears to be. He looks up at Lan Qiren impassively, his face solemn, as he holds his hand up for Madam Lan to take. As he is intimately aware, there’s no time like the present to begin changing things for the better.

Madam Lan slips her hand into his instantly, giving his fingers a little squeeze, and Lan Zhan sets his jaw stubbornly. He’s got an ally in her, and he’s nearly forty years old. He can face down Lan Qiren, he’s done it plenty of times already for what he thinks is right.

“Wangji, let go. Your time to visit your mother is long over.”

Lan Zhan watches Lan Qiren’s anger with a detached sort of interest, tipping his head slightly to the side and shuffling closer to Madam Lan’s skirts as if to hide in them, though of course he isn’t in the least afraid.

“Staying,” he announces with all the gravity he can muster. He really wishes in that moment that he could sound at least somewhat closer to his actual age rather than having to do his best with the sweet, high voice of childhood, but oh well. It still clearly startles Lan Qiren, that he would talk back, and Lan Wangji meets his gaze evenly.

“Wangji!”

“I will be raising my son from now on,” Madam Lan suddenly declares. “Huan-er as well, if he wants me to.”

Lan Qiren splutters in a way that Lan Zhan finds...kind of funny, actually. He’s only ever known Lan Qiren as stoic (with a small range of other emotions couched within that stoicism) or angry, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen him so...gobsmacked.

“You - the elders -“

“Oh, I didn’t realize the elders had taken over raising them,” Madam Lan replies with ‘innocent’ curiosity. “I was under the impression that they were still your responsibility, Qiren, and that concerns about their upbringing should be brought to your feet.”

Lan Qiren huffs out a frustrated sigh and Lan Zhan tips his head to the other side as he watches, able to study Lan Qiren with all the experience of a full life spent as his ward.

He knows, of course, that Lan Qiren loves him and Lan Xichen as if they’re his own children, and that that affection started when they were handed off to him as mere infants, just old enough to leave the wet nurses. By this point in time, Lan Qiren has had five years to raise Lan Wangji and eight for Lan Xichen - that affection for them is clearly already firmly in place. After all, it’s Lan Qiren who had held them when they were too young to walk on their own yet, who had rocked them to sleep and taught them their first lessons - how to talk, how to eat, how to read, how to count.

But Lan Zhan also knows that Lan Qiren is already a much stricter hand than they really need. He’s spent a lot of time meditating on the peculiarities Lan Qiren had possessed as a parental figure, and while he still can’t conclusively point to the root of his behaviors, he already knows how it will end if allowed to continue - with Lan Zhan himself cold and rigid but for a small handful of people whom he still struggles to show outward affection towards, and with Lan Xichen pouring kindness and gentleness out onto others to soften the blows of the world until he’s left with none to offer himself.

Lan Zhan knows Lan Qiren loves them, but he also knows that that love could be shown in much healthier ways if they’re all allowed to recover.

“The elders won’t ever allow this,” Lan Qiren finally snaps, his eyes flickering briefly down to Lan Zhan and then back up to Madam Lan. “And I won’t plead your case.”

“Oh,” she says idly. “Well that’s a shame, then, I would have appreciated the support.” Lan Zhan looks up as his mother looks down at him and he can’t help but feel safe as she offers him a quick wink, out of Lan Qiren’s view. “I guess Zhan-er and I will have to make our case to the elders ourselves.”

Lan Zhan nods once at that and squeezes her hand to let her know it’s alright with him and Ford into his plans.

“Wangji?” Lan Qiren prompts and Lan Zhan looks up at him, reads the fear behind the indignation, the hurt feelings behind his censure. But with the foresight that Lan Zhan has, he trusts that if they change this, if they give his mother a reason to live again, that everyone in their family will be better for it. Happier.

A little pain is necessary for growth and change - an old tree must fall to allow the new to grow, the winter snows have to come and melt away again to refresh and awaken the world properly in the spring.

Lan Zhan lets go of Madam Lan’s hand to step forward and wrap his arms around Lan Qiren’s leg, holding onto him tightly and hugging him with all the strength and affection he can muster for the man for a long moment - a goodbye to the man who had raised him, who will soon become a different man than Lan Zhan knows - before he lets go again to take his mother’s hand and lead her back into the Jingshi.

She shuts the door gently with Lan Qiren standing shocked on the other side of it.

They have plans to make, and time is of the essence.

#the untamed fanfic #Lan Wangji #Lan Xichen #Madam Lan #Lan Qiren #if you want a giggle read Lan Zhan's 'I'm 37' line in the same tone of voice as that guy in the vine who says 'I'm 27? :D"#also - if I do end up turning this into a fic I don't think I'll be able to do a multichaptered straight narrative fic like AEM #it takes a lot of time and energy which I'm currently putting into my modern 3zun AU and my next planned full fic is actually the sequel to #my fic 'You Need Tending' - the wangxian children fix-it #BUT - it would be something like a chronological series of scenes that are more or less a cohesive timeline from the time wangxian are 5 #up to the 'present day' - as in up to the time when they're 37 and AEM begins #siiiiiiiiiiiigh adding it to my list of wiiiiiiips lol #we shall see we shall see #prompt fill

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thecaffeinebookwarrior · 5 years ago

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The Dos and Don’ts of Writing Smart Characters

Since I started this blog, one of the most common questions I’ve received has to do with the portrayal of intelligent characters. This is also one of the most difficult to answer -- excluding questions about characters with specialized knowledge sets, which are fairly easy to answer with source compilations. Most of the questions have to do with: how do you portray a smart character believably? How do you make the audience relate to them? Can I still make them likable? How do I avoid the pitfalls of popular media?

Well, I’m finally here to answer, utilizing examples from some of my favorite (and occasionally, not-so-favorite) media. Let’s jump in to the dos and don’ts of smart characters!

1. Do let the audience follow the character’s thought process.

As demonstrated by: Tommy Shelby from Peaky Blinders

Albert Einstein allegedly once said, “If you can’t explain it to a five-year-old, you don’t truly understand it.” And the sentiment rings true: true genius doesn’t need to dazzle with big words and technobabble. Instead, it makes the complex appear simple.

The same rings true for brilliant characters. BBC’s Sherlock (more on that later) ceased to satisfy in its later seasons because it began to rely too heavily on visual glitz to avoid actually explaining its mysteries and how they were solved. Similarly, the biggest complaints with block buster franchises -- Star Wars, The Avengers, Game of Thrones -- is that they became obsessed with “subverting expectations” cleverly instead of leading the audiences to their most logical and satisfying conclusions.

Meanwhile, the smartest and most satisfying media dazzles not by staying over the audience’s head, but by illustrating how simplistic the solutions can be.

Let’s start with my boy Tommy Shelby, the charismatic, swaggering protagonist of the charismatic, swaggering crime drama Peaky Blinders. Using only his intelligence (and complete disregard for his own life/suicidal tendencies, but that’s not the point here), Tommy claws his way up from the near-bottom of the social ladder (an impoverished Romani in early 20th century Birmingham) to being a decorated war hero, to being the leader of a feared razor gang, to dominating the race track business, to becoming a business mogul, to becoming a member of parliament and trying to assassinate the leader of the fascist party. He’s also one of the paramount reasons why I’m bisexual.

So how can such a drastic social climb be conveyed believably? Because Tommy -- as the viewpoint character -- is placed in seemingly inescapable situations, and then proceeds to demonstrate that the solutions to those situations have been there the whole time. I recently watched a brilliant video on how this is done, which can be viewed here.

Early in season one, for example, he responds to aggressive new methods by the police by organizing a mass-burning of paintings of the king, and uses the press this garners to publicly shame the methods of the chief inspector who’s been antagonizing him. In the next season, he talks his way into a deal by bluffing that he planted a grenade in his rival’s distillery. My personal favorite is in season four, when he responds to being outgunned by a larger, American gang by contacting their rival -- none other than an Alphonse Capone.

All of Tommy’s victories are satisfying, because they don’t come out of nowhere -- we have access to the same information he does, each victory is carefully foreshadowed, and we are reminded at every turn that failure is a very real possibility (more on that later.) So when he wins, we’re cheering with him.

Other examples: Mark Watney from The Martian, who explains science in its most simplistic terms and with infectious enthusiasm. He would make every character on The Big Bang Theory cry.

Also, Miss Fisher from the AMAZING Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries. The dazzling, 1920s, female Sherlock Holmes of your dreams. I cannot recommend it enough.

To apply this to your own writing: Remember you won’t dazzle anyone if you smack them in the face with a “brilliant” plot twist. They want to take a journey with your character, not be left in the dust.

Also, for everyone in my askbox concerned that they’re not smart enough to write intelligent characters, just remember how simple the problems confronting smart characters can be. Put them in a difficult situation, and provide them with a means of getting out. Then, just let them find it.

2. Don’t assume the audience is too stupid to keep up (or try to make them feel too stupid to keep up.)

As demonstrated by: Sherlock Holmes from BBC’s Sherlock.

Say what you will: there were reasons why everyone was so captivated by this show during its first two seasons. It felt fresh. People had yet to become frustrated with the inescapable thirst for Benedict Cumberbatch. The writing was sharp, and the editing clever. And it wove a tantalizing web of mysteries that demanded solution. The problem was, there weren’t any.

The most frustrating for many was how Sherlock faked his death at the end of season two, after which devoted fans spent two years creating intricate theories on how he might have pulled this off. The creators responded by mocking this dedication in the opening episode of season three, by showing a fan club spinning outlandish theories (one of which included Sherlock and Moriarty kissing.) This might have been laughed off -- at the time, many seemed to consider it quite funny -- if the creators had bothered to offer their own explanation of how Sherlock survived. They didn’t. And so began a seemingly endless loop of huge cliffhangers that promised -- and consistently failed to deliver -- satisfying answers.

The most egregious examples occur in season four, which provided answers to questions no one asked, and withheld answers for things everyone wanted to know. For example, did you know that the real reason Moriarty engaged Sherlock is because he was hypnotized by Sherlock’s secret evil sister? The same one who killed Sherlock’s best friend, whom Sherlock convinced himself was a dog? Yes, that was a real plot point, in the climax of the series. It’s an effort to befuddle the audience with brilliant and unexpected writing, but instead pulled them out of a story they were already invested in and made them far more critical of its pre-existing faults.

It’s pointed out in the brilliant (if bluntly named) Sherlock Is Garbage, And Here’s Why that Moffat can be a great writer, but is a consistently terrible show runner, because he’s more interested in dazzling the audience with cleverness than actually telling a satisfying story. The video also points out that the show often implied Sherlock’s brilliance, without ever letting the audience follow along with his actions or thought-process in a way that DEMONSTRATED his brilliance.

I highly recommend giving the aforementioned video a watch, because it is not only a great explanation of how Sherlock Holmes can be best utilized, but about how writing itself can be best utilized.

Other examples: The Big Bang Theory. As Wisecrack points out in their wonderful video on the subject, the punchline of every joke is “oh look, these characters are smart nerds!” which is repetitious at best and downright insulting at worst.

How to avoid this in your writing: Treat the audience as your equal. You’re not trying to bedazzle them, you’re trying to take them on a journey with you. Let them be delighted when you are. Don’t constantly try to mislead them or hold intelligence over their head, and they will love you for it. Also, cheap tricks do not yield a satisfying story: readers will know when you went into a narrative without a plan, and they won’t appreciate it.

3. Do remember that smart people can be kind and optimistic!

As demonstrated by: Shuri from Black Panther.

Yes, brilliant people can be unhappy and isolated by their intelligence, or rejected by society. But remember that intelligence isn’t synonymous with a cantankerous attitude, or an excuse to be a pugnacious ass to those around you!

Part of the reason why Shuri of 2018′s Black Panther was such a breath of fresh air was the fact that she subverted almost all preconceptions about how a genius looks, acts, and regards the world. And it’s not just the fact that she isn’t a sullen, middle-aged white man that makes her stand out: Shuri has an effervescent attitude, and genuinely loves contributing to her country and family. She referred to sound-proof boots as “sneakers” (and then explained the pun when her brother didn’t get it.) She’s fashionable. She teases her older brother, and cries when he is apparently killed. She’s up on meme culture. This makes her unlike pretty much every other genius portrayed in the MCU.

Except maybe the Hulk. He can dab now.

Shuri is also allowed to take pride in her genius, and can be a bit insufferable about it, which makes her more enjoyable and rounded. But she is an excellent example of how genius can be explored and portrayed in fiction, and I will forever be embittered that she was underutilized in Infinity War and Endgame.

Why, for example, are all geniuses portrayed as arrogant misanthropes? Albert Einstein battled depression, but he is also said to have enjoyed blowing bubbles and watching puppet shows. He was kind to those who knew him. Similarly, Alan Turing behaved little like his fictional counterpart, described as “shy but outgoing,” with a love of being outdoors. Nikola Tesla fell in love with a pigeon. Why do we have to portray these people so damn gravely?

Other examples: Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds. Also an excellent portrayal of an intelligent person on the autism spectrum, as he struggles to interface socially but cares profusely for his fellow human beings. He is brilliant, and completely precious.

Also, Sherlock Holmes -- the original version, and all faithful adaptations thereof. Anyone who thinks Sherlock is an austere, antisocial jerk isn’t familiar with the original canon. He blushed when Watson complimented his intelligence, for God’s sake.

Then there’s Elle Woods from Legally Blonde and Marge from Fargo. Brilliant, upbeat, optimistic geniuses.

To apply this to your own writing: If you have a smart character who hates everyone around them for no identifiable reason, ask yourself why this is necessary and what this adds to the plot. Are they angry about injustice, towards themselves or others? Are they frustrated with an inability to relate to people? Do they want to protect themselves or their family at all costs, including politeness? If not, question why your brilliant character can’t also be kind to those around them.

4. Don’t make your character perfect at everything they do.

As demonstrated by: Wesley Crusher from Star Trek: The Next Generation.

Ah, Wesley. Some call him the original Mary Sue, and it’s one of the only times I’ve seen the term applied with some accuracy. He is somehow the most gifted and least qualified person on The Enterprise. He’s Hermione Granger without the charm, jumping in to answer questions before any of the trained officers in the room have the chance to, always in the right. His only obstacle? Why, the boorish adults he’s surrounded with simply don’t understand his brilliance!

As early as the series’ very second episode, Wesley -- inebriated by an alien illness -- forcibly takes over the ship from Captain Picard, only to later save it from a threat with a reverse tractor beam of his own design.

Wesley was obviously inserted as a means of attracting younger viewers, but failed egregiously, because he was too annoyingly perfect for kids to relate too, and not cool enough for them to be invested in. I binge-watched the various Star Trek series in my youth for Spock, Data, and my wife Seven of Nine, not to watch seasoned military and scientific officers get lectured by an adolescent. Even Wil Wheaton, who had the misfortune of portraying this character, expressed a dislike for him.

Precocious children are great, if you get them right. But get them wrong, and they can easily become your most annoying character, marring the face of otherwise great media. The most important thing you can do for a brilliant character is endow them with weaknesses and flaws -- even something as small as Shuri’s fondness for teasing her older brother made her enjoyable, as anyone with siblings could relate to their dynamic.

But, what if you want a supernaturally talented character who not only fails to be a ray of sunshine, but is something of an arrogant, antisocial jerk? Can they still work, especially if they also happen to be a child?

Yes, under one extremely important condition:

5. Do keep your characters out of their depth!

As demonstrated by: Number Five from Umbrella Academy.

Okay, he’s not exactly a child. He’s a fifty-eight-year-old trapped in a child’s body, who’s traveled back in time from a post-apocalyptic future to warn his siblings of an incoming Armageddon. In other news, Umbrella Academy is a weird show. Unlike the comics, however, the apes don’t engage in prostitution.

The effect, however, remains the same: a preternaturally talented child who talks down to everyone around him, including his (apparently) older siblings. So why does he work while Wesley fails so egregiously?

For one thing, it’s demonstrated early on that Five has the skills to back up his sanctimonious attitude, with the delightfully ultraviolent Istanbul (Not Constantinople) sequence. It also helps that he lacks Wesley’s squeaky-clean moral code, to the point at which he can get drunk in public or kill without remorse.

But: the element most vital to his success as a character is the fact that he’s kept completely, and consistently, out of his depth. He knows the world will end in eight days, but he doesn’t know how this will transpire or how to stop it. Ultimately, he fails again to stop the apocalypse, and must travel back in time with his siblings for another chance.

Most authors have the impulse to demonstrate a character’s brilliance by allowing them to succeed against insurmountable odds, but the Umbrella Academy writers show tremendous wisdom in allowing Five to fail. This allows the audience to empathize with him, and countermands the effects of his arrogant attitude.

This advice isn’t just true for pint-sized prodigies. Look back over this list, and take notes of how often the most successful characters are allowed to fail, to have flaws, and to ascend past their comfort zone.

Other examples: Virtually every successful example on this list.

Tommy Shelby, a character of limitless ambition, conducts a new, perilous climb outside of his social rank each season, which almost always puts him in positions of mortal danger. He faces threats both external (rival gangs, evil priests, and rising fascists) and internal (hello PTSD, suicidal tendencies, and crippling addiction) but either way, we understand that his fast-paced climb is not for the weak-willed or faint-hearted.

Mark Watney is a brilliant scientist who has been stranded in an utterly impossible situation for which absolutely no one could be adequately prepared (spoilers: it’s on Mars.) We are drawn in by his plight, and how he could possibly escape from it, and there we come to admire him for his courage, optimism, and humor.

Shuri, though not the main character of Black Panther, is allowed to show off both tremendous gifts and vulnerability, as she is powerless to stop the apparent death of her beloved older brother. She watches Wakanda’s takeover both as an innovator and a young woman, and a large reason for her success is that she is allowed to be both.

How to apply this to your writing: When portraying intelligent characters, take stock of how often they fail, their level of control over their surroundings, their vulnerability, and their flaws. We don’t want to read about flawless deities. We want to read about characters who embody and personify our humanity. So remember they need to fall down in order to pull themselves up.

Happy writing, everybody!

#long post for ts #writing tips #writing smart characters #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #mark watney #the martian #miss fisher's murder mysteries #shuri #black panther #spencer reid #criminal minds #legally blonde #fargo #number five #the umbrella academy #star trek #star trek: the next generation

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bigskydreaming · 4 years ago

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Hey, any comic recs to ensure that I get Dick Grayson character right? Other batfam included, if you're willing. I'm trying to make sure I don't write a character completely ooc, because that drives me up the WALL when I read that. However, since I dubbed you the #1 Dick Grayson person, I thought I'd ask you to make sure I do him justice rather than a smear campaign or something lol! Thanks! ALSO TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT THE TITANS SHOW! That's all xD

LOL thanks I appreciate it, but while I’m good for the rants, for actual comics recs I would go to the likes of @northoftheroad, @hood-ex, and @nightwingmyboi because they’re a lot better than I am at knowing where to find specific stuff and comprehensive reading lists! I tend to jump all over the place in terms of my go-to comics for Dick.....I’m always on about Robin: Year One but I’m like eh Nightwing: Year One is pretty trash tbh. I prefer pre-Flashpoint continuity overall but I did enjoy some of the early Nightwing Rebirth stuff and before that the pre-Forever Evil New 52 stuff had some good beats. But for the most part, my favorite Dick Grayson tends to be him as a member of teams like the Titans....he shines most in ensembles, I think, because his strengths ultimately are that like...he gets people, he knows how people work, and he knows how to get the most out of the people he’s with, how to make people gel and get in sync and become more than just the sum of their parts.

(Speaking of nightwingmyboi, haven’t seen them posting in awhile, anyone know what they’re up to? Hope everything’s okay!)

Which brings me to the problems with the Titans show. There’s a lot I like about it - Anna Diop and Ryan Potter in particular - and a lot I was never gonna like about it - I’m heavy on the Ugh why must Dick Grayson be a cop ever why is that a thing make it stop. And so while I don’t think Brenton Thwaites does like, a bad job with the role or anything, there was always kinda a ceiling on how attached to or invested in his take on the character I was ever gonna reach.

But Season 2. Oof. Let’s talk about Season 2, and how so many of the problems with it are identical to the problems that surround Dick in the comics, but also aren’t limited to just his character or DC and just as equally show up in all kinds of media. Like, I could have (and probably did) offer an identical rant about the role of Scott McCall in TW’s S5.

The problem is one I’ve kinda taken to calling in my head “The Ensemble Lone Wolf Effect.”

This is when writers have a character they nominally want to be part of an ensemble....but that they repeatedly go back to the well of “this character should however spend most of their time on their own, or are more natural on their own, or just wants to be on their own, or also sometimes they just deserve to be on their own cuz they suck for Reasons we decline to specify.”

But its that thing of wanting it both ways....believing a character honestly NEEDS to be a loner or off on their own for the sake of their story, but also still wanting to utilize them as part of an ensemble, not willing to actually MAKE them a solo character, and so it kinda creates this never-ending feedback loop wherein they pay lip service to the character being part of an ensemble, but that’s never really on display, which creates a lot of unnecessary conflict among characters that’s to NONE of their benefits.

(And honestly in the comics, you could apply this to pretty much all the Batfam at times...not just Dick. They do it with Bruce ALL the time, they’re doing it with Damian right now, did it with Tim with Red Robin, Jason most of the time he’s not with the Outlaws and Cass most of the time she’s not with Babs or Steph or the Outsiders. As well as Babs herself at times).

Basically what I’m talking about here is like....so much of the drama in S2....and specifically the parts that most every fan I saw had issues with....came about not organically, because it made sense for the characters to behave that way, but solely in order to launch a specific plot, that the writers clearly wanted for S2:

And that was Dick Grayson off on his own, at his lowest, facing his demons on a solo journey of self-discovery the writers clearly deemed necessary before he could find himself as Nightwing and rise to his most heroic self.

Now the thing is....this isn’t inherently a bad plot or a problem. The problem lies in how they went about it.

Because rather than looking at the overall story and saying okay, that’s what we want to do with Dick Grayson, that’s what we want for HIS story, now how do we get that and where do we take it from there, rather than looking at that as just a STARTING point, and engineering a plot that grows OUT of that.....

The writers just started out by viewing that as an ENDPOINT, and reverse engineered a way to get Dick TO that point first and foremost....at the expense of so many characters who then basically turned on him and held him solely responsible for the things many of them also had a hand in....purely to get him off on his own and isolated.

But that was never necessary!

Because Dick’s character contains multitudes when it comes to guilt and self-blame, everyone knows that. He never needed anyone else to blame him for what happened to Joey because he blamed himself. So the second they conceived of the plot “Slade wants revenge for something Dick at least blames himself for”.....they had all the ingredients needed for Dick to decide proactively that the best way to protect everyone was to put distance between him and them, that he should try and hunt down Slade on his own, solve this between just the two of them.

And that should have been the STARTING point, for that narrative journey of self-exploration, not that journey resulting as an ENDPOINT in and of itself from Dick being FORCED into a kind of isolation by the others all blaming him.

Because now see what ripple effects result:

Now, the other characters are just as able to focus on their own individual storylines as they were in the show, with the additional concern of wanting to ACTUALLY find Dick and figure out what’s going on with him or tell him they still want to help....without this in any way needing to distract them from their own storylines, practically speaking, or cut into Dick’s narrative alone-time, because as part of the equation you ALSO have Slade, who has his own wants and agendas, not to mention tactics. And Slade’s perfectly capable of and willing to work with others, or utilize the long game, or engage in a game of cat and mouse as a distraction...there are numerous ways that you could engineer a plot FROM these motivations that allows him to keep the rest of the Titans distracted and even targeted individually, without allowing them to group back up with Dick or Dick to even know that they’re in danger and that his attempts to avoid that backfired.

You want the characters isolated and divided? The PLOT can do that for you. You don’t need the characters to do that to themselves.

IMO, most if not all stories are meant to advance characters, first and foremost. Take Characters A-Z and leave them different from how you found them. Move them to a different position in their lives as much as anything else, from where they began. The goal is character DEVELOPMENT.

What this means, in my book, is that the plot should serve the characters, NOT the other way around. The plot should grow FROM the characters and what they would or would not do....the characters should never have to be forced to FIT INTO a plot.

That’s backwards.

There shouldn’t be any need to reverse engineer a certain starting point, characterwise.

Just like....start the plot, plotwise....and from the moment you first introduce a single plot element, prioritize how would the characters react and BUILD from there.

The only engineering you should need to do is how to get to an eventual END point....which is still all about the forward momentum, not backing your way into anything.

Its one thing to have an endgoal for your plot, a point in character or narrative development that you want characters to reach. But its all about perspective. About keeping that what you’re working towards rather than something that you like, have to reach before you can even really BEGIN.

Which is what Titans S2 did. The real GOAL of the season in terms of Dick’s storyline, was his solo journey of self-discovery. But there’s a million different ways they could have LAUNCHED that journey, without it having to be the forced and contrived outcome of events and character decisions that literally only existed to initiate a journey that never required a forced initiation.

And so all this narrative energy gets utterly wasted and expended on stuff that it just flat out doesn’t need to be spent on in the first place....instead of just putting that same energy to use building forward-facing storylines for ALL the characters, that don’t require contrived spats of disharmony when the goal of such moments isn’t even the disharmony but rather just that they’re kept apart, the end RESULT of the disharmony.

Imagine what S2 could have built if instead of wasting time, characterization and energy on getting to a point they could have simply started from if they’d simply looked at it that way and chosen to just....start. If they’d applied all that to building across the board, everyone’s story in service to their own character first and foremost, no tangled feedback loops making characters regress or cycle through the same behavior or narrative positionings over and over again in order to not get in each other’s way or cross paths at a time when the show didn’t want them to cross paths....because rather than make all these characters work at cross purposes, they’re all on the same page, they still want the same things....you’re simply engineering from their own natural characterizations and organic decisions and reactions, ways the PLOT can be utilized as a TOOL, to keep them moving forward in their own respective chapters, WITHOUT their characters having to be bent out of their natural shapes or forced into niches that don’t really suit them, just to keep them, PREVENT them, from more naturally or organically making a choice or action that would ‘get in the way’ of the plot.

Bottom line......the plot is supposed to be there to advance the characters, because the characters are what we come to stories for. The characters are who we invest in, relate to, ROOT for.

The characters aren’t there to advance the plot. We’re not here to yell yeah, I really hope the writers do whatever it takes with characters, no matter how backwards or unnatural it seems, just to get that sweet sweet and oh so specific ending we want that is in no way dependent on how invested or not we ACTUALLY are in the characters by the time it arrives, in order for it to actually be effective or not!

Lol. Y’know?

So yeah, that’s my biggest gripe with Titans so far. I’m still eager to see what happens between Kory and her sister, and although I’m not thrilled it seems to be becoming Batfam Straight Outta Gotham rather than like, Titans: The Show, I admit I am curious about what take they’ll go with for Babs. As I still pretty vividly recall that weird as hell Birds of Prey show the CW or UPN or WB or whatever it was at the time did for one season, where Babs was honestly not terribly adapted despite the show otherwise bearing like, zero in common with any existing DC property or character (do not even get me STARTED on their takes on Dinah and Helena, no, blehrrible, those were bad, those were like super bad)....anyway, I’m kinda curious even if it wouldn’t have been my choice for what direction the show should take. Not that I have a specific one in mind, just, yeah. And I also kinda would not hate if we got a new Roy Harper now, to replace the not!Roy of Arrow, because I don’t know him, no seriously, who is that, its not Roy Harper.

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rolanberry-rebel · 3 years ago

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LFRP/Bio: Lissa

I figured I’d do an updated version of this, add a little more info and pizazz.~

Name: Anylissa Sebastis Nicknames: Lissa, Liss; Anny only if you want to get on her bad side. Race: Hyur (midlander) Age: 22 Gender: Cis female Orientation: pansexual Relationship status: Single Profession: Singer, dancer, spoiled dilettante

Height: 5′3″ Weight: 118lbs. Eyes: Dark blue Hair: Black with (artificial) purple-red highlights Skin: Fair, softly sunkissed Build: Petite, more bottom than top Scars/marks/tattoos: small beauty mark near her left eye, and a teensy pair of berries tattooed on her left hip. (Don't tell her parents.) Fashion/accessories: Fun, cute and ostentatious, with lots of gold, lots of jewels, lots of silly accessories and lots of her favorite colors, vivid violets and rolanberry reds. Prefers light fabrics with plenty of skin, in contrast to the stuffy gowns and expensive dresses she has to wear to family functions. Has a whole closet full of shoes and a cupboard full of jewelry and eyeglasses, which she doesn’t actually have to wear for eyesight, but likes to as a fashion accessory.

Birthplace: La Noscea Residence: Her family’s estate, near Wineport Alignment: Chaotic good Hobbies: Singing, dancing, modeling, partying, going to clubs and dive bars, hanging around with the wrong crowd, petty crime, making friends, frivolous spending on pretty clothes, jewelry and accessories, reading fun adventure and romance books Likes: Fun, money, physical activity, art, exciting new experiences, jokes and good-humored people, getting into trouble, free spirits, creative minds, beauty and beautiful things Dislikes: Her family (except for her brothers Riverton and Octavius), ponderous bores, philosophical or stuffy academic conversation, social expectations and high society, religion, emotional ugliness, dishonesty and scheming Personality: Flighty, flirty, loud; silly, chatty, loves to laugh; fast-paced and deeply unserious. Sweet with a side of playful and bratty. Always looking for fun; life of the party, loves to be the center of attention. Kind but immature; air-headed but not naive. Doesn't like applying herself, prefers to have fun. The kind of girl who takes a grumpy and unfashionable friend to the markets to play dress-up and takes lots of selfies along the way, and no matter how annoying she is, you can't help but crack a smile. Virtues: Quick to make friends; she’ll be your friend even if you don’t want her to be, and she’ll come through even if you’re stubborn about it. Always kind. Creatively talented, has a natural skill for music and rhythm especially. A faint affinity for magic, though raw and uncultivated. The Sebastis family blood gives her a streetwise cunning and intuition; you’ll have a hard time getting away with lying to her. Extremely generous; she’s always the one to cover the tab. Deeply loyal and kind-hearted. Bad habits: Laziness; gives up easily. A spendthrift who doesn’t know the value of a gilpiece. Has problems with commitment and responsibilities.Defiant, rebellious and insolent. Smokes, drinks to excess occasionally. Can be counted on to never finish what she starts. Often childish and sometimes needy. Short attention span. Terrible at any kind of fighting unless she gets to cheat.

Significant Other: As an heiress, Lissa’s family have had a spouse planned for her since she was a little girl, as a means of business negotiation. Lissa has no interest in the man and in fact has found him repellent in the few interactions she’s had with him. She has no plans to go marry him and is for all intents and purposes single. Children: None Family: A lot. I’ll have to write a more detailed profile for them eventually. Most relevant to her personally are:

Grandparents: Lissa’s only living grandparent is domineering family matriarch Eugenia Sebastis (nee Marshe), grandmother on her father’s side.

Parents: Cumberland and Marie-Arelle (nee Brattlebrough) Sebastis.

Brothers: Matthias, Riverton, Spaulding, and Octavius, and her brother-in-law Brunas Tiernach, married to her sister Allure.

Sisters: Allure Tiernach (nee Sebastis) and sister-in-law Brietha Sebastis (nee Verias).

Aunts, Uncles: She has many, but most important are her great-aunt Lucia Windholme, her father’s sisters Louisette and Bedelinda, her father’s brother Arvram, and her mother’s brother Tanner.

Cousins: Again, a lot, but notably her elder first cousin Chauncer (great-aunt Lucia’s son), whose Costa del Sol bungalow Lissa holes up in a lot, and her second-cousins Barnabath and Ava Donncaster, who she visits in Kugane fairly frequently.

Friends: A lot! I’ll write stories about a lot of the non-PC ones eventually, but she always loves having more. Always up for writing pre-existing friendships, too, if you wanna be one of them!

High society: If you're a part of, or well-acquainted with, the aristocratic side of Eorzean society, you've most likely heard of the Sebastis family. You may have even heard about the pretty and troublesome young scion of theirs, always bringing shame on the family name. High finance: Any character with a background in business or tradecraft or who has a good amount of wealth themselves has probably done some sort of business with Lissa's family or its proxies. Family business: Lissa has tons of family, all of them involved in various legit and shady business schemes across all of Hydaelyn. You may have encountered one of them - as friends, rivals, employees - and you might eventually parlay that into some sort of exchange with Cumberland Sebastis’s bratty younger daughter. il Mercenario: As it turns out, when you run a big family business, sometimes things get rough, and more often than not, it pays to have a few sturdy sellswords at your side. If you operate as a mercenary, particularly working inside La Noscea, you may find yourself hired to shadow or protect some billionaire berry-farmer's bratty daughter. Alternatively, you may have been hired by a shady business rival to, well, 'take care' of her. Drinks and dives: Sometimes you just want some peace, quiet, and a mug of the good stuff to yourself, right? There's no better place for that sort of local color than the scummiest holes-in-the-wall. But for some reason, some irritating girl keeps showing up at all your favorite watering holes, insistent on making herself life of the party... Low lives: You run a small gang, crime syndicate, or have a background in raising a firm little bit of hell. You're known and you might even be a tad feared by the underground. So why in the world is this loud-mouthed rich girl weaseling her way into your escapades? Who knows. Maybe she'll come in handy as a distraction or something. Fashionista: Talent can be so hard to come by, and even when you find it, in the fashion world you're bound to run into an unending stream of selfish divas. But hey, you need someone to show off your new spring threads, right? There just happens to be an heiress from Wineport with a knack for pretty clothes, pretty poses and a powerful strut. She might even be willing to give you some fashion advice of her own, too!

Hi! I’ve been RPing forever and I’m lookin for new friends!

Adult female OOCly who’s RPed in every game you can probably think of and happy RPing lots of themes/scene types so long as we talk about it beforehand.

Available at random times, usually late evenings EST. Will always try to respond to private messages here no matter when you send them though!

Discord: I’m not on there very much, but I know it’s become a big way for a lotta people to do most of their OOC communication/RP threads so I’m willing to get on there if you wanna talk!

In-game: Anylissa Sebastis (Balmung) or Kjalla Nisemi (Mateus)

I have another character, too, so if Lissa doesn’t seem like a great fit we can talk about stories/threads with my violent bunny mercenary Kjalla!

#ffxiv rp #lissa

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claudiafekete · 4 years ago

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This is another ordinary story of “how xxx fandoms changed my life” -

- or maybe not. you decide. I want to write it down. trigger warning for politics, discussion of sexual violence, mild gender dysphoria It’s also horribly long. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

When I first came to tumblr, I had just graduated from APH. Short for Axis Power Hetalia. I learned about it in the form of manga. For years it was my everything - I learned what fanfic or fanart meant and I learned the basic online etiquette. As I grew in years, it accompanied me.

Until it didn’t.

Shortly after I fell into solangelo.

It’s a fun story, how I picked up PJO years after years of absence. My brother was whining about something written in Magnus Chase. “What do you think the Norse Gods were going to do to Percy that Annabeth was crying?” He demanded. I expressed my confusion. He kept on with his different theories and I made the decision to look it up online later.

My online search of Percy Jackson’s fate soon revealed something unknown to me before: solangelo. The first canon gay ship I ever knew. Therefore, at the ripe old age of 19, I threw myself into this endless hole called “tumblr” for the first time.

It was the most LGBTQ+ friendly place I had ever been. I joke you not. It was also the place where I was taught not only how a healthy relationship should look like, but also how sex should or could be like. You don’t learn anything healthy about sex in Chinese or Mandarin using fandom, at least during the years I was in them. There were rigid 攻/受(roughly translated as top/bottom) stereotypes that everyone rushed to squeezed their characters into them. A lot of time though both person might ship A with B, they wouldn’t interact because one thought A should top and another thought B should top. Their different topping designation resulted in depictions of the characters’ personalities so dramatically differed that you couldn’t recognize them as the same characters. Other than the refreshing relationship dynamics, Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard offered me a chance to take a look at my gender identity. I had known that theoretically non-binary people existed outside of binary gender, but I hadn’t known how one might live as one or describe themselves as one. I’m not trying to claim that Alex Fierro’s story is the only story of non-binary people. I’m trying to say that it was the starting point for me to make exploration and find the label “agender” for myself.

I stayed in APH for 6 years. I had expected to stay in solangelo for longer.

Entered June 2019 with its whispers and anxious demonstrations. Entered folks pouring into streets in Hong Kong. Entered tear gas and facemasks and sticks and a bullet scarcely missing the heart and journalists beaten by police. Entered young students not of age disappearing mysteriously. Entered people dressed in white attacking citizens and not arrested by police. Entered dead bodies that were probably “被自殺 (being suicided)”.

Entered a city falling into the hands of tyrants next to your door, and you didn’t know how to help. You didn’t know what to do with yourself with your clean and spare hands. You were so far away from the frontline, you were angry and helpless and hopeless for that.

It was the first time I witnessed, first-hand, how the Chinese government directed the discussion online, so that it seemed as if there were random mobs who were disturbing the peace of Hong Kong and possibly taking money or being trained by US. “Bullshit. Would there still be so many kids hurt on street if we have received any kinds of training for this?“ Of course, the majority of Chinese people inland wouldn’t hear that. Hong Kong is a former colony. Any calls of outrage toward the present government must be made by disillusioned young people who were unaware of colonization and imperialism.

That was why I took refugee in Good Omens. I needed to run some where to stop myself from scratching myself to blood. I needed to some works for these clean and spare hands to do so that they wouldn’t pick up something destructive, such as a knife.

If the PJOverse fandom had felt the best place on earth, well, the Good Omens fandom lifted me into paradise.

I’ve never seen so much kindness being showed under one tag. The creators and actors were all kind and interacted with the fans in their own ways. We were encouraged to do everything, anything, to build art with it however we liked. We as fans were recognized. We were seen. We were ... cared for. It was overwhelming, in a good way. For that, I would be forever thankful to Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett and Michael Sheen and so many others in the production. I would be forever thankful to artists who liberated body types and freed the ties between gender expression and genitals. I would be forever thankful for the fantastic creators out there.

Would it seem as if I’ve only cherished the mutuals I met in Good Omens fandom? It wasn’t my intention. There are friends I keep in touch long after I fell out of love with APH. There are mutuals I got to know through solangelo and I feel, I hope that we are friends. Everyone who has chat with me I do my best to remember. (Though I do left conversation in weird places, become so ashamed of my incompetency that I do not continue them.)

What I’m trying to say is, as good as the solangelo fandom was, I still ran into biphobic posts here and there. It was only once or twice – but it was a constant reminder that being bisexual didn’t seem “valid” to some of the other LGBTQ+ members out there. Who cares what cis-gendered, heteronormative people said? Bullets that shot from friendly fire hurt the worst.

Besides, with a large and vibrant fandom like Good Omens, it’s easier to feel less alone and more… seen.

Damn right. Even after writing more that 5000 words in English it is still so easy to fall back into the comfortable nest of mother tongue. I can read simplified Chinese characters as well as the traditional Chinese characters I grow up using. There probably will never be getting the accent right but soundlessly devouring words in front of a screen? I excel at that.

That was what’s happening when the days rolled into January, 2020. I flew to US as an exchange student and exchanged long letters with a young Chinese woman I met in Good Omens fandom. I’ve never felt so alone in life. English as in creative writing has never come more naturally for me. The words burst in my head and arranged themselves freely on screen or on papers. I’ve never felt more hopeful about my writing ability.

The days rolled into March, 2020.

The first time my mom told me to come home over home, I laughed. The second time, I frowned. Before she pleaded me for the third time, I had grabbed a ticket.

I hadn’t imagined the disease plaguing China and its neighboring countries would affect the whole world.

You lived the rest of the story. I fled back to Taiwan.

That was where Doctor Who came in. Or David Tennant. Such a strange time. For fourteen days I was the only living human in the house. I watched Casanova – or was it later? Hamlet definitely came before that. Then I could live with my family again. I handed in my homework and wrote in a different language than the people around me were speaking. My parents were working. My little brother was in school. When there was no one to talk to me I either read or watch Doctor Who to pass the time. I fell for Thirteen. I fell for twissy. Falling fast and hard and completely won over by their glamour.

I started internship. There were some small breaks where I could catch an episode or half, but never as much time as before. I dipped into fandom wiki and found that no matter how much research I did, there would always be details I overlooked simply because I could not afford hours watching all the episodes. No matter how hard I squeezed my schedule for time, no matter how much I devoted myself to the series, it would never be enough.

So I gave up, and let it go. For the first time in quite a while, I willingly gave up something for the simple reason of “I want to live a more comfortable life”.

Came summer. Damp air combined with biting heat and piles after piles of biochemical terms made life agonizing. An ordinary kind of pre-pandemic “agonizing” which felt like a luxury in a world that was ending.

Hong Kong fell.

It was bound to happen. Once I heard protestors fought their way into the legislature I knew, for almost an year I knew, nothing good would come out of this. CCP would never allow its subjects acting out of hand. With such open despise to the authority, CCP would take nothing but a full conquest at the end of it.

See where we are now. As long as you’re “interfering” the political climate “inside” China, it doesn't matter which nationality you hold or where you were or how long it has been since you made the statement. “According to the law”, China can come for you. No, better, it can tell your country to hand you over. What a clever empire. What a graceful empire.

What a horrifying empire.

With the news I spiraled down fast. I kept away from the young Chinese woman I was exchanging letters with, I kept away from any kinds of Chinese social media, and the worst of all, I kept away from Good Omens, for it was sweet and kind and hopeful, for it reminded me of a time where fighting seemed to make a difference. I was empty and exhausted and a husk. Something must come out to fill the void. Someone needed to paint me in colors so that the world wouldn’t notice I was fading away.

I was surprised at who took the brush.

After ten years, the first man I ever have a crush on strolled back into my life.

He was over thirty, but I always pictured him in his early twenties. Dark hair, eyes of grey or silvery blue. Loud laughter that sounded like a bark. Swift and elegant. Intelligent. Prideful. Stubborn. I embraced him as I’ve done ten years ago as a little child.

When I looked past him, I saw someone else.

Worn, weathered, with wry humor. Attentive and considerate. Tortured by the world yet never stop giving out kindness. Countless scars. Grey hair unfitting to his age. I didn’t pay him much attention ten years ago. This time, I looked.

Let me introduce you Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, my very first crush and the man who is too much like my last crush.

2020, a month before Fall semester started, I trekked cautiously, timidly back into Harry Potter fandom.

The fandom of August 2020 was very different from fandom of 2010. The lack of author, for one – it became mandatory to denounce the author’s transphobic statement and other bigotry setting. I’m glad that everyone is doing their best to make it a friendly place for minority groups. Though I’m afraid, by making it a white or black situation with short statements and no discussion, it wouldn’t really help people understand why she is wrong in this. However irrefutable the author’s guilt seems to us, it is not something obvious to those who are unfamiliar with the subjects.

But it does feel good to see blogs and fics with the introduction such as “If you support the author’s transphobic bullshit this place does not welcome you”. It feels reliving.

The second was, I found the type of work I’m actively pursuing changed.

Back when I was young – when I was so little I didn’t even know what the word “fandom” meant – I read Character x OFC and some M x M. During the APH period I read an alarming amount of M x M and countless historical AU. When digging through solangelo, beside the canon divergence stories, simple AU like coffee shop grabbed my attention. Coming out stories were my comforts. The best of Good Omens fics were either in canon verse discussing desires, bravery, humanity and mortality, or setting in an AU with the promise of sweet, fluffy endings. Doctor Who almost always focused on Time and Space. Love was twisted and so often tainted by anger. Monster and god were very alike.

I came a full circle back to the Marauder era, and found myself not looking for heroes, but for young fighters struggling desperately in a seemingly hopeless war. I looked for people who were frightened but never, never ever going down without a fight.

I used to find characters and events unfolding in foreign places, now I want characters who are close to what I am or what I want to be.

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So, that’s it, my grand journey through multiple fandoms and basically a journey of self-discovery. It’s messy, sometimes painful, but always with so much joy blooming along the way.

Something doesn’t change. I’m still obsessed with words. I’m still a sucker for happy ending. I’m still wishing someone will come and love me the way I need to be loved.

Something does. I stop imagining that some magical power will come into my life and solve everything. I stop looking for others to save me from myself. I start believing that though wounds hurt, some of them do teach us to be a better person.

Long ago, I saw my friends and I as rabbits, without proper weapons to defend ourselves. That wouldn’t do. I thought. For my friends I’ll grow into a snake with fangs to protect them. Maybe I have grown into a snake. Maybe I haven’t. But I do hope I won’t stop fighting for those I love, with those I love.

I hope I won’t give up.

#APH #axis power hetalia #pjo #percy jackson #solangelo #tw: politics #tw: sex mention #magnus chase #magnus chase and the gods of asgard #alex fierro #hong kong extradition bill #hong kong demonstration #good omens #doctor who #tw: personal review of pandemic #harry potter #sirius black #remus lupin #hong kong national security law

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