#so just creates a level of uneasiness around them

[lover-of-mine]

I think Lucy is the biggest proof of the way the show keeps introducing love interests for Buck who are just left of what could work from the get-go. Because since Lucy is a firefighter too, it is really easy to make her exist for us outside of Buck, which means she would have better chances of sticking around and not fall victim of us being biased towards Buck at all times just because he's the only one we care about in the mix, but since it starts with the drunk kissing and the cheating, it bothers the general audience just enough for us not to think it could work.

[celestialmatcha7]

tied | nam-gyu

pairing: possessive! toxic! ex bf! nam-gyu x gn! reader

genre: angst

wc: 672

author's note: i hope you all enjoy and thank you so much for the likes and reblogs on my previous nam-gyu imagine. thank you!!! <3333

The shelter was dimly lit, crowded with uneasy contestants huddled together in small groups. The air reeked of sweat and fear, a grim reminder of the nightmare everyone was trapped in. You sat quietly in the corner, staring blankly at the ground as your mind wandered. For a moment, you managed to forget where you were—forget about him.

“Y/N.”

The sound of your name shattered your thoughts, and your stomach dropped. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. His voice, deceptively soft yet laced with a possessiveness you knew too well, was unmistakable.

Nam-gyu stood a few feet away, his arms crossed as he surveyed the shelter. He ignored the wary glances thrown his way, his attention entirely fixed on you. Around you, conversations quieted, and the tension in the room seemed to shift.

You reluctantly lifted your head, meeting his gaze. “What do you want, Nam-gyu?” you asked, keeping your voice low.

He smiled, but it wasn’t friendly—it was smug, a predator’s grin. “Just checking on you,” he said, stepping closer. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

You stiffened as he crouched down to your level, his face uncomfortably close. He reached out, brushing an imaginary speck of dirt off your shoulder. “You shouldn’t isolate yourself like this,” he murmured. “It’s not safe.”

“I’m fine,” you said curtly, leaning back to create some space, but he only moved closer.

“Fine?” he repeated, tilting his head. “I don’t think so. You’ve been acting strange lately. Distant.” He lowered his voice, his eyes narrowing. “Are you trying to avoid me?”

The murmur of the other contestants rose slightly, a few people glancing in your direction, but no one dared intervene. Everyone had their own battles to fight.

“I’m not avoiding you,” you lied, trying to keep your tone steady. “I’m just trying to get through this.”

His smile faltered, and for a brief moment, anger flashed across his face. But he quickly masked it, leaning closer until his lips were near your ear. “You don’t need to ‘get through’ anything, Y/N. I’m here. I’ll take care of you—like I always have.”

You turned your head, your voice firm despite the quiver in your hands. “I don’t need you to take care of me, Nam-gyu. That’s over. We’re over.”

A sharp intake of breath from one of the nearby contestants broke the tense silence. Nam-gyu froze for a moment, his jaw tightening. Then he leaned back, chuckling softly. “You’re still angry,” he said, his tone almost amused. “I get it. I messed up. But we both know I’m the only one who’s ever really cared about you.”

“That’s not true,” you said quietly, but he ignored you, his voice growing louder for the benefit of the room.

“Tell me, Y/N,” he said, gesturing to the shelter full of strangers. “Do you really think anyone else here would risk their life for you? Do you think any of them would even notice if you disappeared?”

The people around you looked away, avoiding your gaze. Nam-gyu’s smirk widened as he leaned in again, his voice dropping to a whisper. “But I’d notice. I’d always notice.”

You clenched your fists, willing yourself to stay calm. “You don’t own me, Nam-gyu. Stop pretending like you do.”

His smile faded, replaced by a cold, calculating expression. “I don’t have to pretend,” he said, his voice barely audible. “You’ll see. When this is all over, you’ll come back to me. You always do.”

He stood abruptly, his presence looming over you. “Remember what I said, Y/N,” he called over his shoulder as he walked away, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Stay close to me. It’s the only way you’ll survive.”

The room was silent as he left, and you felt the weight of countless eyes on you. You sank back into your corner, your thoughts racing. The games were a nightmare, but Nam-gyu? He was a hell you’d thought you’d escaped—only to find yourself trapped with him once again.

[misscammiedawn]

Legitimacy vs Selection Bias in Hypnosis

This has been on our mind a lot recently. It's mostly been sparked by the recent Mindless Banter podcast run by @theleeallure @enscenic and @hypno-sandwich where the three hosts spoke about how they dislike academic models of hypnosis and a recent post by @h-sleepingirl discussing why they herald hypnotic education.

One thing that is always going to be true about the advocates of our kink who have been involved with the community for a long time is that we are going to be experienced and capable hypnotists and/or hypnotees.

Likewise those who join and find themselves brought in to the fold tend to self-select; if a person is not able to find any success or joy in hypnosis because it's not working or they do not gel with the styles taught and practiced then they will not hang around.

This means that we have a functioning ecosystem of people who know the lingo, who are primed to react as they should and tend to have things work for them.

Which is great! It makes it so much easier to work out when everyone is on the same page.

But it also creates an insular community.

I've written before on why the insular nature of our community worries me.

One of the lines I wrote in that post was this

One of the big differences between the online erotic hypnosis community and the NGH (National Guild of Hypnotists) who rue our existence is that we do not require legitimacy to function when they themselves exist in a half-truth state where when receiving both of my certifications it was impressed that we needed to perform an uneasy dance of providing services without practicing medicine because hypnotherapy is not licensed psychology in the same was that chiropractors are not performing medicine.

Legitimacy is the idea of taking what we do, what we are, what we believe and what we practice and trying to make it valid to those outside of the community. It's performing studies, it's building a framework of hard rules, it's about pretending that we understand how the brain works beyond the anecdotal evidence that we witness it every day within our corners and communities.

Fact is, hypnosis is a malleable and belief-based practice that rests right in the middle between faith and science. As mentioned in the above linked post, trance can be detected on an EEG:

Source

Our last post on this topic just spoke about accepting that we exist in a soft science where what we believe, how we approach our beliefs and what ideas we allow to take root in our minds will have a firm impact on how the minds of the hypnotists and hypnotees we interact with.

Today I want to talk about why keeping the education and the science involved in the conversation is important.

Because, like the Mindless Banter crew, I have reached the point of my career in hypnoplay where should Dawn wish to induce a trance she need only find a partner, lay out what will happen and perform. The rest of it just happens.

Once you reach a level of confidence and community, it pretty much takes care of itself. The interaction between a hypnotist and a person who has never experienced trance before and the interaction between a hypnotist and an enthusiast will play out differently.

What I mean by this is if Dawn is approached in DM by someone who wants a session she will be able to pick up a number of tells without even noticing it on their confidence and experience. Someone shy, unsure and untrained will not dive straight in. Which makes the encounter less likely and even if it does happen it comes from the power dynamic of a teacher and student rather than two enthusiasts going to town.

This is normal and it's not a bad thing. It just means that the typical educator in the hypnokink community is typically aware of the "weight class" of their hypnotees which paints their expectations of how things will go and allows for a line between the way hypnosis is taught in 101 and how it is practiced in enthusiast circles.

It's why Progressive Muscle Relaxation is something which gets scoffed at a lot in our circles. The typical enthusiast does not need to spend 20 minutes on an induction when their typical partner is someone they can hold the shoulders of, stare at with intent and give permission for the hypnotee to drop.

That isn't to say that experienced hypnotists only play with experienced hypnotees. It just means that the majority of the play from those who educate does not match the material that we teach to beginners. Not a bad thing.

But it does breed this divide I mentioned. Between the experience of those who do this all the time and what is "academic".

So, besides helping new people into the community or playing in pure theoretical space, why must we keep the academic approach involved?

Well, first... the science does inform what we do. Yes, a lot of this is based on belief but there is a large amount of the science which is just fact no matter what we do. The neuroplasticity of traumatized brains is a topic we type about a lot given our dissociative disorder. I mentioned in my Dissociative Disorders and Hypnosis post that there are multiple studies that there's a higher hypnotic suggestibility in those with conditions that include dissociation as a symptom. The fact that this was being taught in a 101 class was why I made that post to begin with.

From my Mind Makes It Real post I mentioned that we need to be aware of the truths to keep ourselves in check. We should always be wondering "am I wrong?" about everything and the moment one lets go of the academic framework and commits to the loose ethos of "it just works" you lose a little bit of that footing and external perspective. We're an insular community and there's an element of "the popular ideas win out", not to stress a point too much but the whole hatred of the progressive muscle relaxation induction is a good example of this. I know a few community leaders who reflexively rant any time they hear it. These people have the ability to control the con schedule. They teach classes and part of their lesson is their personal disdain for that approach. This goes into the minds of those who were taught by that person and becomes part of the internal dogma. Suddenly you have a situation where a minority of people in the community need to defend the PMR.

I do not actually care too much about PMR but it really is one of the most accessible entry level trances and the disdain for it is a little gatekeepy, if I am being honest. I don't think any individual means for it to be something they keep out of the community but enough individuals following a trend creates a community concept, a widely held belief.

And hypnosis is entirely about widely held beliefs. Thus it is now a fact that PMR is boring and ineffective and there's more fun ways to do trance. That is an example, hopefully one that is understandable to an audience who are also into hypnokink (apologies to my non-hypnosis Tumblr followers, I hope if you're reading this you enjoy this peak into a little internet sub-culture).

Which brings me to legitimacy.

Do we really need it?

Hypnosis is both science and fantasy. A person attending a hypnokink convention could treat hypnosis with the technical skill and care that one would approach as ropeplay, learning all of the different terms and all of the safety procedures and treating it as a psychological version of what can be physically observed.

But you may also have someone who treats hypnosis as roleplay and improv with a framework not too dissimilar from a tabletop sourcebook for D/s shenanigans that they can learn and play within much the same as a D&D player can switch to World of Darkness. I guarantee there are a large number of people in the hypnosis community who do this and they're not wrong for doing it.

But as I mentioned above. Hypnosis is a scientifically observable phenomenon and it is dangerous if abused. Heaven knows I know that more than most. One must not believe in the dangers for them to be real. An immature hypnotist is a danger to a hypnotee regardless of if they think they are roleplaying or performing edgeplay. And the same is true for a hypnotee, too. If one believes it's all roleplay then their limits and safety will be at a different level than someone who is aware of the risks.

One need only look to the dark corners of our community where covert hypnosis is practiced eagerly, recruitment is a game and personality erasure is an aesthetic to know that there are uncomfortably large swaths who are practicing hypnosis from the perspective of fantasy. I do not want to pull out the news articles about how Disney Deer brainwashing ruined people's lives again.

The good news is that within the educator/convention going portion of the community we do teach this stuff. We do make everything clear. We're not currently in a community where academic approaches are shrugged off.

But it makes me uncomfortable when experienced educators in the community forget how far their words reach and dismiss the academic for the sake of "what works".

We do not need to seek legitimacy for the eyes of those outside of the community. We do not Demand To Be Taken Seriously. We have a community where people are welcome to join or not join. We do not need external legitimacy.

But we need internal legitimacy.

We need the people who practice within our care to know that they're practicing with dangerous tools that can and will mess a person up if treated without proper care.

Safety and education require we keep room for the academic and seek to legitimize what we do or those who look at hypnosis as pure fantasy will not be able to recognize the risk.

At least, that's my opinion.

-

For more of our ramblings on hypnosis and the hypnosis community, please check out our Hypnokink Writing tag for other bits of education and commentary like this <3

[cherubiyeon]

pls do minji x reader on how she reacts to reader being popular and attractive (like different level of attractive - would be good if it’s in a school setting)

sparks fly | newjeans kim minji x female reader

it wasn't that minji hates the admiration her girlfriend, y/n receives; it was just the thought of sharing y/n's attention with so many others that made her uneasy.

✩ warnings. just fluff, with a pinch of jealous minji, non!idol / high school!au, established relationship, jealous minji, stuco pres!minji x vb captain!y/n, like one swear word

✩ word count. ~3k words

✩ note. anon, this sucked so bad im so sorry🫠

as the volleyball match neared its climax, the atmosphere in the gymnasium crackled with energy. each team had only one point left to claim victory, and the crowd's loud cheers filled the air, blending with the rhythmic squeaks of rubber shoes and the resonating thuds of the ball bouncing on the polished floor. y/n, standing tall as the team's captain, felt the weight of responsibility resting on her shoulders, her heart beating with anticipation.

on the court, y/n exuded confidence and determination, her eyes fixated on the prize ahead. the pressure was palpable, but she embraced it with a confident grin. every movement she made was a testament to her grace and precision, showcasing the depth of her skill and expertise. she embodied the essence of the team, leading them with a charisma and passion that had garnered her an army of admirers both on and off the court.

as the volleyball match reached its thrilling climax, the gymnasium seemed to pulse with electrifying energy. the deafening chants of the school's name reverberated through the air, creating a palpable tension that sent shivers down the spines of everyone present. the rhythmic squeaks of rubber shoes on the polished floor and the resounding thuds of the ball intensified the sense of urgency.

y/n could feel the weight of the moment resting on her shoulders, but she welcomed the pressure with unwavering determination. her eyes remained locked on the prize, her focus unyielding. with each heartbeat, the anticipation in her chest grew stronger, driving her to push harder and give her all for the team.

in a swift and calculated display of skill, y/n leaped into the air, her body moving with grace and precision. time seemed to slow as she met the ball with perfect timing, delivering a powerful and decisive blow. the ball soared across the net, slicing through the air like an arrow seeking its target. it struck the floor on the opposing side with a resounding thud, sealing the victory for her team.

the moment the ball hit the ground, the gymnasium erupted into a symphony of joyous cheers. the crowd's jubilation was contagious, and y/n found herself grinning from ear to ear. the elation of the win surged through her, filling her heart with pride and satisfaction.

her teammates rushed to her side, enveloping her in a triumphant embrace. high-fives and hugs were exchanged, their camaraderie and shared triumph uniting them as a formidable team. y/n reveled in the warmth of their support and the knowledge that they had achieved victory together.

as the cheers continued to echo around them, y/n turned to face the crowd. her chest swelled with a mix of humility and exhilaration as the gymnasium resounded with the chant of her name. she waved to the adoring fans, their admiration a testament to her hard work and dedication.

as the final whistle blew, marking the end of the adrenaline-fueled volleyball match, the gymnasium erupted into a symphony of cheers and applause. the euphoric energy in the air was infectious, filling the space with an electrifying buzz. the crowd, brimming with excitement, began to slowly disperse, their jubilation subsiding into a contented buzz of chatter.

y/n's team, still enveloped in the afterglow of victory, gathered together in a tight huddle. their faces glowed with triumphant smiles, and hands reached out to exchange enthusiastic high-fives and hearty congratulations. this wasn't just a win; it was a culmination of their hard work, dedication, and unyielding spirit. as they stood united, the bond between the teammates grew stronger, knowing that they had achieved this momentous triumph as a close-knit family.

amidst the celebration, y/n's eyes shone with a mixture of exhilaration and relief. she reached for her flask, taking a refreshing sip of water to quench her thirst after the intense match. her muscles hummed with fatigue, yet she reveled in the satisfaction of a hard-fought victory. the post-game euphoria washed over her, filling her heart with pride and a sense of accomplishment.

as y/n began to make her way out of the gymnasium, her gaze fell upon minji, who was engrossed in a stack of paperwork related to her student council responsibilities. despite the clamor around them, y/n couldn't help but feel a magnetic pull towards minji. with a hint of breathlessness in her voice, she called out, "minji!"

turning towards the sound of her name, minji's eyes met y/n's, and a smile effortlessly adorned her lips. she paused in her steps, greeting y/n with a warm expression. the sight of her girlfriend, looking slightly winded but brimming with excitement, made minji's heart skip a beat.

"did you see the match?" y/n inquired with a charming grin, her eyes sparkling with excitement like stars in the night sky. with an air of playfulness, she flexed her well-toned muscles, basking in the afterglow of her team's victorious triumph. "of course, who else but kim minji's extraordinary girlfriend did the final blow and secured our win?"

minji's laughter resonated like a soft, melodious harmony, filling the air with warmth and affection. she gently shook her head, her eyes alight with adoration. "i'm afraid i didn't get to witness it firsthand. my duties as the student council president demanded my attention," she explained, her voice carrying a touch of regret.

y/n's playful pout emerged, a cute pucker of her lips betraying her feigned disappointment. "aw, you missed my epic moves. it was an unforgettable spectacle!" she exclaimed, her eyes shimmering with pride like diamonds catching the sun's rays.

minji's gaze softened with genuine admiration, and she reached out to tenderly brush a stray strand of hair away from y/n's face, her touch as gentle as the caress of a gentle breeze. "i'm sure it was. but even without witnessing it, i'm incredibly proud of you, y/n," she expressed warmly, her words a soothing balm to y/n's soul.

the genuine pride in minji's voice sent a surge of warmth through y/n's heart, making it flutter like a hummingbird's wings. she felt a profound sense of gratitude for having minji by her side, not just as a girlfriend but as a pillar of support in every aspect of her life. minji's unwavering belief in her abilities fueled her spirit and gave her the courage to face any challenge that lay ahead.

"you are?" y/n's face lit up like a golden retriever receiving a pat on the head, her eyes seeking confirmation of her worth from minji's affectionate gaze, "even though you didn't see it?"

minji's tender touch lingered on y/n's cheek, her fingers tracing the contours of her face with a gentleness that spoke volumes of her love and admiration for the girl in her embrace. "absolutely. kim minji's girlfriend is the pride of the volleyball team, isn't she?" minji affirmed with unwavering affection, her voice as soothing as a lullaby.

feeling a rush of emotion, y/n found herself instinctively wrapping her arms around minji, pulling her close in a warm embrace. the comfort of minji's presence enveloped her like a soft, cozy blanket on a chilly day, and her heart overflowed with love like a river bursting its banks. in a soft, sincere whisper, she expressed her gratitude, "thank you, minji. you're the best."

minji's smile held a special tenderness as she embraced y/n in return, savoring the warmth of the moment like a sunflower turning towards the sun. "yeah, yeah," she playfully teased, "now, enough about the match. where are you off to?"

y/n's face lit up with mischief as she intertwined her fingers with minji's, their hands fitting together like pieces of a puzzle, each completing the other. "well, as your loving girlfriend, it's my duty to accompany you wherever you're going," she declared with a twinkle in her eye, her voice a symphony of playfulness and devotion.

minji chuckled softly, utterly charmed by y/n's playful spirit like a butterfly drawn to a vibrant flower. "is that so? well then, i'm taking this paperwork to the faculty," she replied, her voice holding both determination and a hint of amusement, like a violin playing a lively tune.

with a playful grin that could rival the sun's radiance, y/n nodded with unwavering enthusiasm, fully committed to her role as minji's partner-in-crime. side by side, they strolled down the bustling corridor, the sounds of the school life fading into the background as they engaged in lighthearted banter and shared laughter, their laughter intertwining like the harmonious notes of a sweet melody.

as y/n and minji walked hand in hand towards the faculty, the school's buzzing atmosphere seemed to amplify. congratulations and greetings poured in from students passing by, each one eager to celebrate y/n's victory and bask in her radiant presence. while y/n gracefully acknowledged the well-wishers with a smile and a word of thanks, minji couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy gnawing at her heart. she knew y/n's popularity was well-deserved, but she couldn't help but wish for a little more private time with her girlfriend.

arriving at the door of the faculty office, y/n and minji found themselves in a quiet hallway adorned with colorful student artwork and motivational posters. the soft hum of chatter and distant footsteps created a sense of tranquility, a brief respite from the lively energy that usually surrounded y/n. as y/n turned to minji with a warm smile, her eyes shimmered with a deep affection that conveyed more than words ever could.

"i'll wait for you here," y/n said with a tender smile, her voice carrying a gentle undertone of consideration for minji's responsibilities. y/n wanted to offer minji the space she needed to complete her duties as the student council president, understanding how important her role was. however, minji, ever mindful of y/n's desires, had a suggestion of her own.

"you can go ahead to the cafeteria, y/n. i'll catch up with you shortly," minji proposed, her voice warm and reassuring. she knew that y/n loved spending time in the bustling cafeteria, indulging in the diverse array of culinary delights the school had to offer.

despite her desire to spend every moment with minji, y/n's thoughtful nature won over, and she replied, "no, i want to wait for you. it's not a problem, really." a playful smirk graced her lips, "plus, i could use a little break from all the attention. it's really making me nervous..."

minji's heart swelled with adoration for her considerate girlfriend. y/n's selflessness and willingness to prioritize their time together touched her deeply. the way y/n's eyes softened as she spoke, revealing vulnerability beneath her charismatic exterior, made minji's heart flutter with affection.

minji couldn't help but chuckle at y/n's lighthearted remark, finding solace in the familiar banter they shared. she felt a wave of love wash over her, knowing she had someone so caring and understanding by her side. "alright," minji agreed, her voice filled with adoration, "if you want to wait, then i won't take long. i promise."

in that moment, y/n's heart fluttered at the sound of minji's promise. she cherished these moments of intimacy, where they could be honest and vulnerable with each other. y/n squeezed minji's hand, before letting go slowly. as minji entered the faculty office, y/n leaned against the wall, feeling a mixture of butterflies on her stomach and fatigue from the mmatch

y/n exchanged a few more greetings with passing students, who congratulated her on the match, their admiration evident in their expressions. the glow of victory still illuminated her features, making her even more captivating in the eyes of her fans. each word of praise only added to the aura of charm that surrounded her. y/n graciously thanked them, but inwardly, she couldn't help feeling slightly overwhelmed by the attention.

as she waited, a group of enthusiastic freshmen spotted y/n from afar, their eyes widening with awe and excitement. they couldn't believe their luck at encountering the school's renowned volleyball captain up close. excitement bubbled within them, and their anticipation heightened as they approached her with eager smiles.

"oh my gosh, it's y/n l/n! you were incredible out there on the court!" one of the freshmen gushed, her voice tinged with admiration.

another chimed in, "yeah, we were cheering for you the whole time! you're so handsome when you play!"

y/n couldn't help but chuckle at the freshmen's endearing enthusiasm. she was flattered by their compliments and appreciated their genuine excitement. "thank you so much! i'm glad you enjoyed the match," she replied with a warm smile, her humility endearing her even more to the star-struck group.

the freshmen eagerly shared their favorite moments from the game, recounting how y/n's grace and skill had left them in awe. they animatedly discussed her powerful spikes, precise serves, and agile moves on the court. y/n listened attentively, their admiration and enthusiasm fueling her own sense of pride in her athletic achievements.

as the conversation continued, y/n couldn't help but inch back against the wall slightly, the crowd of excited freshmen unintentionally crowding her. while she cherished her fans and their adoration, she also longed for a moment of tranquility, a brief respite from the spotlight. however, her kindness and approachability didn't waver, and she continued to engage in conversation with the freshmen, ensuring each of them felt seen and appreciated.

in the midst of their lively chatter, y/n's thoughts drifted to minji, who was still attending to her student council duties. she yearned for the moment when she could reunite with her girlfriend, seeking solace in minji's calming presence. y/n loved her fans, but minji's love and understanding were what truly grounded her in the whirlwind of popularity.

as the group of enthusiastic freshmen continued to shower y/n with praise, their words became a delightful chorus of admiration.

"seriously, y/n, you're like the epitome of cool! your moves on the court were insane!" one of them exclaimed with wide eyes.

another chimed in, "i wish i could play like you! you make it look so effortless and elegant!"

y/n blushed, humbled by their compliments. "well, uh, thank you all so much! i've practiced a lot to get where i am, but it warms my heart to hear that you enjoy watching me play."

"enjoy? we were practically screaming our lungs out with excitement!" another freshman gushed, her excitement infectious.

"seriously, y/n, you're like a volleyball wizard or something! the way you control the game is unreal," one of the freshmen said in awe.

"yeah, and let's not forget how handsome you are! you've got all the girls swooning!" another added, giggling playfully.

y/n couldn't help but laugh along with them. "well, i'm flattered, really. but it's not all about looks; it's the passion for the game and the teamwork that matter most to me."

"passion and looks! you've got the whole package, y/n!" a freshman said with a grin, and the others nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

"can we take a picture with you? i want to show my friends back home that i met the volleyball superstar!" one of the freshmen asked excitedly.

"of course! i'd be happy to take a photo with you all," y/n replied with a warm smile, gathering the eager group for a group selfie. they huddled together, capturing the moment that would undoubtedly become a treasured memory for the freshmen.

as the group of freshmen finally got their picture with y/n, they continued to gush with excitement, their voices bordering on exuberance. they couldn't resist expressing their awe over y/n's looks and skills, each compliment seemingly louder than the last.

amidst the flurry of praise, minji emerged from the faculty office, drawn by the familiar commotion. her heart clenched with a tinge of jealousy as she saw the freshmen almost yelling their adoration at y/n's face.

suppressing the emotion, she approached them, gently taking y/n's arm and interjecting with a warm smile, "hey, guys, y/n is truly amazing, isn't she? but she needs a moment now, so why don't we give her some space?" minji tries her best to speak in the most calm voice, though her eyes were almost like daggers.

the freshmen, taken aback by minji's unexpected appearance, quickly complied, nodding eagerly. they understood the unspoken message that y/n was someone special to minji, and they respected that boundary.

minji led y/n away from the enthusiastic crowd, her fingers intertwining possessively with y/n's. as they walked, her touch conveyed both protectiveness and affection. the moment they were out of earshot, minji mumbled sarcastically, "they really adore you, don't they?"

y/n's laughter filled the air, a charming and infectious sound that warmed minji's heart. "yeah, they do," y/n admitted with a playful grin, her eyes dancing with amusement, "but don't worry, minji. you're the one who has my heart."

minji's cheeks flushed with a mix of bashfulness and delight, her heart fluttering at y/n's sweet words. "good to know," she replied with a soft chuckle, "i just can't help feeling a little possessive when everyone is fawning over you."

with a teasing glint in her eyes, y/n wrapped an arm around minji's shoulders, pulling her close. "jealous, huh? well, i can't blame them. you're dating the coolest and most handsome volleyball superstar," she teased playfully.

a playful groan escaped minji's lips, but her eyes twinkled with adoration. "but, even better! i'm dating the one and only kim minji, the student council president? the debate club and animal rights club member? the most prettiest and smartest minji in south korea?" y/n's words filled the air with charm and admiration, making minji's heart soar.

minji rolled her eyes playfully, savoring the affectionate banter. "you're incorrigible, y/n," she said, shaking her head with mock disapproval, a fond smile lingering on her lips.

"incorrigible? who the fuck even uses that word?" y/n laughed, the sound like music to minji's ears. she wrapped an arm around minji's waist, pulling her even closer. "but you love me anyway, right?" y/n asked, nuzzling minji's cheek affectionately.

minji pretended to ponder for a moment, before finally giving in with a dramatic sigh.

"unfortunately, yes," minji sighs, before pecking y/n's cheek. "yes, i do."

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@jegulus-microfic june 19 — mechanic — 843 words aka motocross enthusiasts to future boyfriends

James hastens to unclip and throw off his helmet. Carelessly, he throws it to the side where it lands with a dull thud in the foliage while he runs over to the person that just slipped off their motocross bike in front of him.

They were racing each other.

He came out of nowhere, appearing on the trail right next to James. As if he’d materialized himself out of thin air. Decked out in all black and bike an atrocious lime yellow-green that doesn’t blend with the background of the forest even if it wanted to.

He’d snaked his way in front of James when their twin paths united again. Two fingers were tipped from his helmet in a mock salute and then he’d accelerate hard and fast, swirling dirt at James’ helmet visor.

And, well. James has never said no to a challenge a day in his life. Especially from such a cheeky opponent. So James had revved his engine and done his best to keep up and find ways to overtake his mysterious challenger.

The thing is, the other guy was fast. Quick and nimble on his bike, winding between trees and seeking out every opportunity to get a good head start. Jumping off hills instead of taking them easier, dangerous maneuvers, snapping branches and leaving behind angry wheel tracks.

And James was chasing. As soon as the trees cleared a little James managed to pull almost level with him. The biker threw multiple looks over his shoulder when he noticed and James’ grin sharpened when he heard a short laugh from his front left. They parted ways when James chose to round a hill instead of going up and over it, slowing down to keep out of the other’s landing range.

But just as quickly James’ smile was gone.

Maybe the ground was muddier than the guy thought or he got too high-spirited. His hind wheel slipped right from underneath him upon hitting the ground again, making him tumble forward with the remaining momentum and his bike sideways.

Now, James skidders down onto his padded knees next to the body laying in the dirt. “Fuck, hey! You okay?”

He gets a groan in response, raspy and breathless.

And then James gets all breathless when the other guy weakly shoves off his own helmet. It’s pale skin contrasting starkly with his all black getup, dark curls tumbling onto his forehead and stormy eyes fluttering up at him.

Oh.

The gorgeous man on the ground grunts vaguely, “Never been better.”

James makes a skeptical noise. “Hey, open your eyes for me again. Can you see clearly?”

Slowly, grey eyes blink open and try focusing on James’ figure kneeling over him. His lips part around a silent gasp once they’re wide open, looking at James intensely. “Um, yeah,” he answers.

James’ mouth tips into a grin. “Hi there.”

“Hi,” the other breathes weakly.

“And your name is?”

“Regulus.”

James hums, “And how many fingers do you see, Regulus?” He holds up 3.

“Three,” Regulus answers dutifully.

James switches his fingers, holding his thumb to his forefinger, the tips of both of them creating a little heart. “And how many now?” James smirks.

Regulus’ wide eyed glance turns into a scowl, lips pouting as he pushes James’ hand away with a grumbling noise. James doesn’t miss the way his cheeks pinken though.

Regulus tries to sit up but he immediately plops back onto his elbows with a groan.

“Don’t be a hero,” James admonishes and pushes him to lay back down.

“How’s my bike?” Regulus wants to know. It’s quiet safe for the sounds of the forest, birds chirping, wind rustling the thicket.

James looks over his shoulder where the lime green atrocious is laying sideways in the leaves. The motor isn’t on anymore but it doesn’t look bent or scratched. “Looks in okay shape,” James replies, turning back to Regulus. He’s looking up at him with an uneasy gleam in his bright eyes. James drives a hand through his hair, licks his lips. Regulus’ eyes follow the motion. ”Easily fixable, I bet,” James reassures, “Probably just some of the electronics impacted.”

Regulus lets his head thump back into the foliage with an unhappy groan.

James grins. “Hey, y’know what? I’ll take you to my mechanic. Guy’s awesome! Funniest person I know and he really knows his bikes.”

James expects Regulus to lighten up and be thankful for the offer but instead he’s met with an almost patronizing smile in return. “Hard pass. I already have a trusted mechanic.”

James narrows his eyes, feeling defensive. “Well, your loss then. Sirius always does a flawless job for a good price. Plus,” he grins again, “His fancy ass espresso machine makes a mean hot chocolate. And he lets me have one every time.” James nods to himself, feeling victorious.

Something flits over grey eyes and then Regulus’ own lips tip onto a smirk. “I know,” he answers and James is properly confused for a few momentps before Regulus goes on. “I bought it for my brother.”

[headachecat]

The Hours Found - Chapter I

———

If I have lost an hour this night, it is only to Rook.

But lost is wrong. It is an hour found.

An hour more clear than any other.

—

An anthology of hours in Lucanis and Rook’s relationship unseen in the game, but very much needed.

———

The nights at the Lighthouse were peaceful for some. As the ever-extending eternity around it carried the little islands on its back, the spirits floated through the Fade at a great distance, vaguely reminding the Earthlings of falling stars on a cloudless night.

While most of the team observed them in breathless awe, Harding kept her gaze on the ground as she passed by, wishing goodnights and disappearing into her little grove. The vines overgrowing the stone walls reached out toward the door as she closed it, keeping her safe from intrusions during her rest.

Lucanis observed his companions quietly from the solitude of a wooden platform near the kitchen. He had grown to enjoy spending his time there, with his back safely toward the building, eyes sharp and focused. Although he was used to feeling uneasy and vigilant, he allowed himself to breathe here. The boundless nothingness beneath his feet provided a new level of comfort he had sought since leaving his prison. For if there was truly emptiness there, the openness of the space meant he was free. Well, at least free from being confined by walls. It was all still very confusing—surreal, even. He couldn’t understand his mind, his thoughts, not to mention his feelings. Why would an open, vast space comfort him now, when it never had before? There had always been something, or someone, out there to get him. He shouldn’t let himself relax. Now more than ever. Not with a demon lodged in his head.

‘You are. Such. A sap,’ Spite remarked, leaning against the bannister above him. His voice was louder at night, harder to drown out in the stillness of the Fade, without the team’s chatter to muffle it. Spite hadn’t seen much of the human world before, and it seemed that whatever he was picking up at the Lighthouse was influencing him more than Lucanis wished for. Sometimes, Spite would echo phrases Lucanis couldn’t be sure he’s heard himself— or from whom.

Lucanis cracked his knuckles, ignoring the demon lingering above him. The team was slowly crumbling under the sleeping spell, with the last of his companions making their way to their beds. It made him wonder if the Fade created day and night just for them, to keep them as rested and strong as possible. Was it helping them? Was it pushing them to protect the Crossroads in its own way? If so, could it mean that the Fade was… good? Could it mean that what he’d been told about the Veil, the spirits, the demons—was it all a misunderstanding?

He shook his head, wiping his brow. Ugh. It was getting late, and his thoughts kept spiralling into pure nonsense. Maybe he was overthinking things, way too much.

‘Tell me about it. Your head’s like a tornado of doom. And I have to live in it,’ Spite muttered, rolling his eyes. His wings extended now, as he balanced on the bannister. Part of Lucanis hoped he’d slip and fall into the abyss—maybe that would shut him up forever.

‘I heard that,' Spite hissed right into his ear, prompting Lucanis to wave his hand through him, as if swatting away a fly.

‘Go away,’ he groaned. But then he suddenly twitched, something catching his attention in the corner of his eye.

He looked up, toward Neve’s office, just as one of the last small blue lights drifted out through the window. The wisps twirled around, whispering indistinctly as they made their way down the stairs and circled around the statue of the dead lovers that Rook had put up. Lucanis smiled faintly at the sight.

‘We have to make this place our own,’ she’d said one morning as she admired the skeletons. That day, they shared breakfast on the Caretaker’s counter beneath the statue. She hated to admit it, but she didn’t sleep well either. Lucanis would catch her every now and then, in the early hours, stumbling her way to the kitchen in search of food. He’d cook for her whenever he could, while she prepared their drinks: tea for herself, coffee for him. He hadn’t told her yet, but she made it just right.

‘Solas will hate it when he comes back,’ he remarked, keeping his gaze on her fingers, wrapped around an ornate cup. The tattoos on her skin traced the curves of her knuckles, imitating the bones beneath. He caught himself wondering if the design extended beyond her hands, as his gaze lingered on her neck for a moment longer than intended.

'I hope so. He’s already stuck in a Necromancer’s head, and you know how we feel about spirits. Remind me to leave a few more Nevarran trinkets before we leave. That might just drive him over the edge,' she laughed, her nose crinkling with amusement. He chuckled softly with her, but noticed how quickly she fell quiet. Glancing up, he saw her gazing at the statue, a mysterious smile forming on her lips.

‘But something tells me,’ she added, ‘that he might actually like this one.’

Lucanis looked at the statue with newfound curiosity, wondering what she’d meant back then. Against the vast, endless sky, it was a beautiful sight. He must have drifted off in wonderment for a moment, because Spite’s voice yanked him back to the present.

‘They’re going somewhere. I want to know,’ Spite shouted. Lucanis glanced down at the wisps and noticed his demon drifting among them before they vanished down the stairs toward the Lighthouse. He stood up, quickly dropping off his empty cup in the kitchen and ran after the spirits. They disappeared into the Lighthouse just before he could catch up, so he carefully opened the large door, trying to keep quiet. On the main floor and in the library, any sound echoed easily, and some of the residents were light sleepers. Not that he’d point fingers.

As Lucanis reached the center of the tower, the spirits had already disappeared from his sight—except for Spite. But then again, was he ever truly gone? The demon lingered at the top of the stairs, leaning against the wall in the infirmary corridor.

'What is it?' Lucanis murmured, more to himself than to Spite. He knew the demon could hear him regardless.

'Quiet! There’s something,' Spite hissed back, before darting further down the corridor and disappearing into the shadows.

Lucanis furrowed his brows as he slowly made his way up the stairs, his right hand reaching for the dagger he kept hidden, tied to his calf. He turned the corner, and Spite appeared in front of him, leaning toward the room ahead. The infirmary door was slightly ajar, and only now did Lucanis begin to notice the whispers coming from within. He approached carefully, placing a hand on the door and pushing it open slowly. As the room came into view, he made out the shape of a bed on the right-hand side, placed against the wall. The wisps illuminated the space with a soft, evergreen light, casting shadows over another figure. A head full of locks rested on a book placed at the bottom of the bed. Lucanis held his breath, observing in silence. Rook.

The whispers of the wisps quieted as Lucanis focused on her. She was speaking softly, in her usual, tired morning voice.

'Why, I am here just for some quality company. Absolutely not because I’m checking up on you,' she joked, resting her head on her palm. 'Fine, have it your way, old man. You’ve called my bluff.'

Lucanis glanced at the bed again, then turned his gaze toward the library.

'This is private,' he thought, scratching his neck. 'We’re leaving, Spite.'

‘No,’ the demon hissed back, sticking his head through the door. ‘The energy. Blood magic.’

Lucanis raised an eyebrow and knelt in front of the entrance, listening intently once more.

‘Tell me again about that time the Inquisitor was in the Fade. It must have been devastating,’ Rook's voice was low and tired. She kept rubbing the back of her head slowly, half-knelt on the floor before the bed, her upper body resting heavily on the previously neatly-folded sheets. ‘What if I had to make a choice like that? I don’t think I could. Not without you there.’

Spite crossed the door barrier effortlessly, sneaking toward the bed and sniffing around like a dog. Lucanis questioned if the demon actually needed to do that to sense changes in the Fade, or if he simply had a flair for the dramatic. Maybe the latter he learned from the Crows themselves.

Rook shifted uneasily as Spite approached. She glanced behind her briefly, seemingly not noticing anything. Her face was partially hidden in the shadows, but Lucanis could still see her eyes glowing beneath the wisps' light. For a moment, it seemed to him as if a faint blue glow flickered across her gaze, but she turned back to the bed too quickly for him to confirm his suspicion. Spite growled deeply as she did so, sitting on the bed in front of her. It felt like ages before Rook spoke again. So long, in fact, Lucanis started to wonder if she’d fallen asleep.

‘You say that, but I’m not the leader here’ Rook pressed her hand against the back of her head again, sighing deeply, ’I’m just filling in for some lazy ass.’

Lucanis couldn’t see her face, but he sensed she was smiling. She always said that, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She’d always chuckle when the team asked for her guidance, joking that she’d have to consult her decisions before offering any advice or answers. Wasn’t she?

Spite grew restless as the wisps around them drifted down, surrounding Rook more and more. He reached out a hand and waved it in front of her, as though she could see him. Lucanis scoffed initially, but it seemed to have an effect. Rook released her grip on her head and placed her hand on the book, gently petting the cover.

‘I must be tiring you with all this talk. I’ll let you rest now. Do you mind if I stay for the night? I’ll sleep better for it,’ Rook said softly, resting comfortably on the bed, still partially sitting on the floor, and exhaled slowly.

Lucanis remained still for the next few minutes, observing as Spite continued his investigation of the bed and Rook herself. Sure, the demon wasn’t an expert on all things spirit, and Lucanis wasn’t sure how much he could trust him, but he had proven useful on occasion. And he didn’t have any other magical guidance around at the moment.

Soon, Rook’s breathing slowed down and remained steady. The Crow stood up, and carefully opened the door, entering the room. The wisps flared brighter again, chattering excitedly around him as he took steps toward the bed. He knelt on the other side, slowly placing a hand on her hair, glancing up at Spite.

‘What is it?’ Lucanis asked, speaking as softly as he could. Spite shifted, groaning once more.

‘Memory. Blood magic,' the demon spat out the last words with disgust. Lucanis exhaled slowly, paying closer attention to the book in front of him.

'Varric,' he whispered with concern. 'Can we tell her? Make her realise?'

Spite slumped against the wall with an imaginary thump, shrugging.

'Don’t know. I’m no spirit, nor a mage. Blood magic does... things to a human mind. You should know.'

Lucanis slid across the bed to the other side, settling beside Rook, where he could see her face more clearly. A soft smile remained frozen on her lips as she slept peacefully, though in the most uncomfortable position. Her hair, slightly tangled, framed her face as she lay there, her body curled in a way that made her look smaller than usual. He reached toward her face, his thumb grazing her temple gently. The wisps, now more vivid, chattered louder, spinning slowly around the room in a soft, glowing circle before falling down once more around them, like a slow-moving storm of light.

Lucanis could feel their energy washing over him, a peaceful, calming sensation that drowned out the persistent voice of Spite. The softness of their presence seemed to clear his mind, smoothing away the sharp edges of his thoughts. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this still, this at ease.

‘It gives her peace. She needs it,’ he whispered, though he wasn't sure if he was speaking to himself or to the wisps. The ethereal lights drew nearer, forming a soft barrier around them, enclosing them within the moment. The room seemed to hold its breath, and in that brief second, it felt like time had stopped. Lucanis listened to Rook’s steady, deep breaths, as his thumb traced her cheek, moving lower to gently outline the curve of her jaw.

He hadn’t seen her like this before—so free from worry, so quiet and still. In her usual waking hours, she was a ball of restless energy, always on the move, always thinking ahead. But here, now, she was completely unguarded, the weight of her usual responsibilities nowhere to be seen. It made her seem almost fragile, but not in a way that made him feel overprotective. It was a vulnerability that felt right, a peaceful, unburdened side of her that he hadn't been allowed to witness until now.

He lingered for a while little longer, savouring the closeness without crossing a line. His thumb gently caressed the soft skin of her face, letting the moment settle around them, soaking in the quiet peace before reality inevitably returned. For a moment, he felt the impulse to lean closer, to feel the warmth of her presence more intimately. The wisps, the soft glow in the room, even the distant whispers of the Fade—none of it mattered. It was just her, just the feeling of her warmth, just the delicate presence of her existence that seemed to invite him in. He caught himself just in time before his fingers reached her lips. His heart skipped a beat as he pulled back, forcing himself to remember the boundaries he’d set.

‘There will be a time for it,’ he added quietly. For the realisations, for the confession, for regrets, for emotion. For all of it.

Spite seemingly disappeared, probably bored of his sappy mind already. Lucanis couldn’t complain. He wrapped his arms around Rook gently, lifting her off the floor, making sure her head rested well on his shoulder, as he carried her over to the second bed in the room. He then grabbed a blanket, spreading it over her legs, tucking it in around her with a soft, practiced motion. He leaned over to the other bed, moving the book aside to fix the sheets, when Rook inhaled sharply.

‘Lucanis?'

He looked back at her swiftly, finding her observing him through half-closed eyes, her expression still clouded by sleep but aware enough to recognise his presence. His stomach twisted, unsure if he should freeze, pretend he hadn’t moved her, or acknowledge his actions. He hesitated, but only for a second. He decided to own up to it.

‘Rook, I’ve noticed you’ve fallen asleep on the floor. I thought you might enjoy the bed more,’ he said, making his way to her and kneeling by her side. ‘Forgive me for the intrusion.’

‘Oh, am I ever so grateful for your intrusions’ she laughed, closing her eyes and dropping her head back on the pillow.

Lucanis smirked softly, holding his breath the second he realised she reached for his hand and held it gently. He observed her movement like a cat, uncertain of its fight-or-flight response. There was a stillness in the air, a quiet tension that hummed between them. Rook lifted his palm, drawing it close to her heart, cupping it in her delicate hands, where it stayed. Her touch was soft, warm, and steady. He wasn’t sure if they have ever held hands before. This felt right, were it to be the first time.

The wisps shifted around, seemingly with excitement and anticipation. One of them floated right between them, and then slightly upwards, illuminating Rook’s face. Lucanis observed her, noticing the curves of her scar, like a map guiding him, as it drew from her ear to her lip. The irregular scatter of her freckles, like the lanterns of the Treviso market district, marking the way around her cheeks, leading his gaze to the soft arch of her brow. There was something so natural in the way she held herself, as if every imperfection was perfectly placed in its own right. She must have cast a spell on him, for he has found so much of what he loved in her, it seemed impossible she was real.

‘I shall leave you to rest, Rook,’ he whispered, uncertain of his words. She opened her eyes, looking at him with a disapproving look. He’d seen it before, but Maker, never like this. Never with wisps hugging them tightly in an unescapable embrace. Her eyes had stars in them, and maybe it was the reflection of the spirits, or maybe her own soul reaching out to him.

‘You shall do no such thing. You will rest with me tonight. I will make sure you do so,’ she said, using her team leader voice on him, with a hint of laughter behind it. Lucanis looked silently at her for a moment, suddenly caught off guard, but maybe just a little too long, as her expression changed. Her eyes opened wider, a flicker of worry shining through. The laughter faded from her voice, replaced by something quieter, more fragile, as though the weight of her words had unexpectedly hit her.

‘It was a joke. I’m sorry,’ she whispered, as her grip on his hand loosened. ‘Of course, you may––‘

‘That is quite alright, Rook,’ he spoke faster than he could think. ‘I will stay.’

Her eyes smiled with her, a softness washing over her features as she watched him settle on the floor, his upper body resting on the bed with hers. She shook her head at him, a small, amused smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

‘No, you can’t––‘

‘Cannot make Spite too comfortable now, can I?’ he smiled slightly, observing their hands, his thumb lightly tracing the delicate lines of her fingers. ‘It can’t be that bad if our esteemed leader sleeps like this.’

She breathed out a short chuckle, her chest rising with the light sound, and for a moment, the infirmary felt warmer, despite its stone cold walls and medical supplies scattered around the room.

‘I’m just filling in.’

Lucanis lifted her hand to his lips, initially brushing against it softly with a hint of hesitation. He gazed at her, noticing that she was observing him, her lips slightly parted, frozen in her jest. He kissed her knuckles gently, before placing their joined hands against her heart once more.

‘Of course.’

And as the nights at the Lighthouse were peaceful only for some most of the time, tonight it seemed to be so for all. There was a sense of quiet unity in the air, a fleeting hour where everything felt right, as if all the struggles and uncertainties could be forgotten, if only for a little while.

[haley-harrison]

Eric Kripke is the Alfred Hitchcock of our generation. In this essay I will outline the main types of horror they use, offer examples, and elaborate the genius of the said tropes.

It will come as no surprise to anyone familiar with the man's work, that Kripke loves his ✨gore✨. Now that he's no longer restrained by CW's PG rating, he gets to go full-throttle with it in The Boys. That isn't to say that Supernatural didn't get it's fair share though - I mean, just remember the "Skin" episode in season one - that scene where the skinwalker changes his skin is pure body horror. Masterful.

Okay, Haley, so what? Some of us aren't squeamish. What's the brilliant part?

Good point, my med/bio orientated reader. That gets me to the second type of horror (and my personal kryptonite): psychological horror.

Here we get to lovecraftian themes. And I don't exactly mean Cthulhu. See, lovecraftian monsters are incomprehensible to the human mind, which generates horror through the unease of being unable to understand. Similarly, certain characters that the majority of the audience cannot identify with, can be used to the same end. Lemme illustrate this with two examples: Homelander and The Deep.

I reckon it's safe to assume most people aren't sadistic psychopaths, nor zoophiles with a penchant for sea creatures. Therefore the extreme Otherness of these two makes people uneasy, disturbing on a fundamental level. Hitchcock refined that particular horror trope by sprinkling his movies with taboo-topics of his own time, such as implied homosexuality. (*gasp* 🏳️‍🌈😆)

And here we get to the now well-known horror rule: the unseen monster is the scariest monster. More broadly, what is only implied can be more impactful than having the exact scenario shown on screen. The unsaid leaves more to the imagination (which is the most powerful tool for horror), and creates and additional dread with the element of unknown. People are unsettled by what else there might be, when elipses replace a clear answer.

Now back to Kripke, and how CW's censorship actually worked in his favor in Supernatural.

Maybe you saw this coming, but the monsters aren't the lovecraftian element. (Really, with the exception of tulpas and wendigos, none of them were even remotely scary). As I said above, Homelander and The Deep are lovecraftian because they're freaks. Unsympathetic freaks, but imagine if we took that first part away...

I shan't say it.

Just. Something something, american gothic, shit's implied and that's the point.

Haley, is this an elaborate ploy to talk about shipping? Really?

No. This is about environmental storytelling, gritty noir filter, camera angles, and just how much is left unsaid. This is about trauma, and repression, and the emotional reaction of the audience when they're left to ruminate a bit on the kind of lives the Winchesters had. It's about the missing scenes, the psychology, the implications - just -

*deep breath*

Another brilliant thing is how Kripke plays around with bathos - causing contrasting feelings in quick succession to give the audience emotional whiplash. The quips sprinkled in between the violence. The unexpected gag right before a gut-punch. It accentuates the experience for the audience. Like the way Dean's relationship with food is often played for laughs, but when you mull it over it's not hard to figure out the underlying food scarcity while growing up.

And furthermore, where did the money come from when times were tough? A myriad of angst-fics went ahead to answer that, which just proves an implication is far superior to exposition.

Then there's Hell. We don't get more than a few seconds of flashes, but think about it. Wouldn't Hell use every torture method imaginable? And what's the most psychologically damaging thing you can do to a person, especially a man?

I think you know the answer.

And that realization is the dawning psychological horror.

Finally, I'll leave you with this:

Just... Kripke!!!

I'm biting stuff!

[theartsynebulawhodoodles]

Cytherea (My UTMV OC) Art!

I’m going to write some things about Cytherea! She is my UTMV OC! I have posted her backstory in my blog if you want to check it out! (P.s) she has other outfits and this is just a concept of one!

Here’s some basic info:

Cytherea has multiple names! She has no official name since she doesn’t go by her dead name and has multiple names throughout her life. However, everyone just calls her Cytherea.

Cytherea is half Native American, quarter Greek, and quarter Scottish. Her original parents were Native American, however due to her being born from spirits of them, she was formed by hand, so when she was taken in by her adoptive parents after being brought to them so she could be taken care of properly, she inherited the Greek and Scottish in the adoptive parents.

She is Asexual, Pansexual, and a Demi Girl!

She is an artist and likes to make art! She also enjoys music, dancing, reading, learning, and writing stories.

Her personality is quite difficult to explain. She is a kind and motherly person who has strong levels of sympathy, however she is stubborn and can be very sensitive at times. She is kind to everyone and tries to find understanding in others to bond with them. She tries to keep her negative emotions hidden and away from others since she is terrified of accidentally harming someone.

Her physical appearance: She has paler skin for a medical reason I will list below. She has freckles and scars across her skin, the scars from many different things. She has dusty lavender colored eyes and brunette hair with flowers in it. She has Angel fang piercings and ear piercings and a round body type that’s chubby as her body type. She has two tattoos, a ankh representing a loved one on her hip and flowers that look like they are one with her body on her shoulder. She has a Greek nose as well. She is 5,4.

Some emotional/trauma/issues Cytherea has. (Tw: abusive parents, manipulation referenced)

Cytherea is a paradox in the UTMV. She basically exists despite it being impossible for her to exist. Since she technically was from another entire chain of multiverses and the creator originally put them in that chain of multiverses, then it means that since the creator didn’t write them originally in the Undertale multiverses then it would be impossible for them to exist in there. But Cytherea broke the laws of reality out of sheer determination if that makes sense! But she realizes that everyone has been made from something and that certain scenarios were created by creators and not all of them were natural. But she is uneasy around the idea of viewing everyone as characters, so she tries to ignore the creators and pretend like she is unaware of the creators.

She has issues with trusting to easy. Since her adoptive parents weren’t good people and treated her poorly, she trusts too easily when she feels loved and appreciated since she never gotten that feeling from her caretakers. It makes here very easy to control with beings like Nightmare.

She has BPD, Autism, and Anxiety. She has been mentally ill for a long time and is always trying her best to improve her mental health.

Whenever she formed and fused with the forgotten soul, the forgotten soul became apart of her, which made her soul have traits of the forgotten soul, which included integrity.

The flowers in her hair are apart of her body. She controls them and they sometimes even purr and hiss! They shoot poison at enemies.

Cytherea has a blood issue/condition which causes toxins to be inside her blood stream, which is kinda like venom or poison that are dangerous to others. This condition affects her abilities to do physical things like exercise or training like others (makes her slower or less active due to energy preserving) and her energy levels being extremely unstable. She has to take a treatment to remove the toxins in her blood every once in a while and has to rest for a bit at certain points of the day because of it.

If anyone has any questions about Cytherea send me a question in my asks box! I’ll either answer in my own perspective or of how Cytherea would answer, like me roleplaying as her! Thank you all for all the support!

(CYTHEREA BELONGS TO ME)

[sergeifyodorov]

I think that’s actually what makes Jack and Connor compelling to me. They both clearly understand the narrative that’s going on around them and what media wants to be and neither of them care to participate. Their relationship to each other (as paper dolls I like to turn around in my head) is interesting to me because I think they both have a lot of what the other lacks and wants. Like, we can talk about the fact that Jack just does not have Connor’s insane talent but there’s no way Connor hasn’t thought about how if he was a little less of a phenom he might have a cup like Jack. And I wonder if Connor thinks about the fact that Jack walked away from the team that treated him badly wistfully. And if Jack is haunted by the fact that he left when Connor did the good hockey boy thing and stayed. Even on a personality level, they’re very different. They don’t hate each other and that to me is more interesting than if they did. I’m never not going to be haunted by the 2015 draft class.

Exactly!!!!!!!!!!!! Like they exist in this sort of uneasy truce with each other's existence and they're completely unaware of the other's perception of it. It creates this tension that's not quite enmity but not at all friendly and i find that SO compelling.

[puppy-the-mask]

This is Briggund, he has every disease <3

He was created for a universe with him and my friend's lamb ocs all managing the camp together and overthrowing the different gods as a new pantheon, so I haven't actually thought about what his own cult would be like yet

More details & picrews under the cut but he's basically a big blood-soaked golden retriever! XD

-Escaped Leshy

-Had no name, he was mistaken for a bandit and called a 'Brigand' when he suddenly rushed out of the brush to confront the group and adopted that as his name 'Briggund', though his friends just call him Brigg

-Easily excitable and impulsive, he loves going on missions outside of camp and slaughtering the cult's enemies and dissenters

-Was exposed to lots of bloodshed as a child when the lambs were being hunted down and had been living alone for a long time surviving in the wild until finally getting caught by Leshy's followers. As a result, Briggund isn't used to "domestic life" at the camp and is uncomfortable with the relatively peaceful atmosphere

-Despite this he's incredibly loyal since the cult took him in and gave him a home. Because of this he's especially strict with dissenters because he sees them as betraying the camp and everyone in it and lowkey takes it personally. Also, since he feels uncomfortable with the peace of the camp it feels like evidence for why he had felt so uneasy, so he feels justified in taking his frustration at his inability to settle in out on them. He sees anyone who would do the cult harm as the enemy, even if it was only lightly doubting the new gods or if they once were allies

-Has a nigh slapstick level of luck when it comes to almost getting beaten up or killed. Someone swings a bat and he looks to the side towards someone who'd called his name and they just miss and the inertia of the swing sends them to the floor. Or he drops to the floor to look at a bug or pick up a sharp rock to throw at someone later just in time to miss getting hit by an arrow.

-Likes working at the bar! ... Do Not Let Him Work At The Bar. His drinks are either really tasty or absolutely horrible and cause hallucinations and vomiting. He says he's just randomly mixing things but if you pay attention you can tell which it'll be by seeing if he sets a drink aside for himself (He either makes something he's craving, or a random mix of plants and things he knows have weird but nonlethal effects so he can watch the drunk people stumbling around and picking fights)

-He sabotages his drinks less when he's not bored. So if he's just returned from an expedition he'll make reliably good drinks and choices, he only acts out when he's gotten antsy. Send him out on missions every now and again and he's actually pretty harmless (so far as messing with the followers goes)

-He used to be covered in leaves and dirt and mats before getting sheared for the first time in forever, somehow the mushrooms remained and kept regrowing. Some think he's cultivating them on purpose. He calls them his 'Emergency Rations' and they cause hallucinogenic effects when eaten, though he's grown a resistance to them over the years. If he tampers with the soup or a drink- it's most likely that one of his mushrooms was included in the mix

-He's still remarkably bad at maintaining his wool, he has no idea how the other lambs' wool stays so clean and soft. It's like the moment he grows it back it comes in covered in dirt and blood. Maybe it's got to do with all the camping in the forest around the cult he does, but sleeping on the ground or in the trees are the only places solid enough for him! The cots are too soft to be comfortable :/

-Fighting pit champion, he keeps almost getting banned for foul play and but they can never prove it. What they really want is to ban him for being too rough, but they didn't exactly set out any rules against what he was doing until after he'd won the matches, so they couldn't ban him for that either. It only took him giving 5 other competitors rabies for them to officially make it a rule to ban biting... At least his fights are always entertaining!

-After converting the gods he has a staunch rivalry with Leshy, not even out of anything personal they just hate each other. It's because they're shockingly similar in a lot of ways, but there can be only one! They're always trying to one up each other

The picrews that started it all ^^^

[faded-mage]

Solas

Standing inside the memory of a Forgotten One had been unexpected. He felt the familiar echo that pulled him into the dream as the memory of the Betrayal. Everything that happened stuck with Solas for days afterward. Aseradiva’s words resonated within him. I do not want to exist as they made me. He understood that desire all too well. It appeared that the Dread Wolf was not the only one to have been villainized throughout elven history. Stories of the woman’s greed and desire was well known in the Evanuris, whispered through stories of the Dalish. She took all that she could from those who were unlucky enough to gain her attentions. Solas quietly wondered if any part of the tales were true. I was once curiosity.

Curiosity, when pulled from its purpose took many forms. Curiosity itself could become something twisted on its own. There was a distinct difference between the curiosity that overtook someone when they saw the colors of the sunset dance across the sky and the curiosity that pulled them to see what kind of pain a quick slice of a knife across another’s skin created. Curiosity could be torn apart and replaced with malice or desire. From how Aseradiva carried herself, she was pulled toward desire. The way she walked around the edge of the ball directly contradicted her demeanor when she was pressed against him. It caused a dissonance within Solas himself. They were mirrors of pain and tragedy. Her curiosity used against her just as his wisdom was.

Solas found his mind lingered far too long on the touch of the woman’s skin under his hand. It was soft against his palm and the base part of him wanted to touch her again. Another one of the People who stepped from the Sky, who knew what it was like before the Veil was in place, was somewhere out in the world. If Felassan was to be believed then she would be amongst the Dalish. The clans were spread out around Thedas, so pinpointing which clan she resided would be near impossible without assistance from the woman herself. She gave him little indication that she wanted to be found. Actually, she outright said she wanted to remain unseen. Would it be selfish of him to search for her? Probably.

He had other things to focus his attention on besides. The most pressing matter was the Breach in the sky. On top of that they were traveling to Therinfal Redoubt. The uncertainty and anxiety wafted off of Isathe in waves whenever they were near. Since their moment in the Hinterlands, she did not hide away as she once did. Showing intimate glimpses of how out of depth the woman felt standing in the center of a religious movement, representing a god she did not believe in. At every turn Isathe adamantly contested the claims of her connection to divinity.

They were about a single days ride out from the fortress, their entourage stopping for the evening to camp. Isathe had been quiet for the past few days, even Varric struggled to get a smile from the elf. Solas could not allow himself to dwell on the woman’s mood, his own thoughts continuously going back to the dream encounter with the last of the Forgotten Ones. Laying in his tent, staring at the ceiling he slowly drifted off with the Forgotten sitting in his mind.

- - -

Solas tried not to remember how at odds he felt when he gained his own form. It was crafted from the blood of the Titans, their cries of pain and agony rumbled throughout the world. The ground shook. Mythal needed his wisdom, that was why he was pulled from the Sky. He could still remember how her voice sounded as she pleaded for him to join them in the world. Solas loved Mythal, not in a way that one would expect. He was beholden to the woman, molded into the General she needed for her war. After the war with the Titans was over and before his rebellion with the Evanuris there was a period of time where there was some level of uneasy peace in Elvhenan.

A separate sect of elves began to arise in contrast to the Evanuris. Mythal and the others built a city of gold and sunlight. Fire and warmth. These other elves, those who thrived in darkness built themselves castles and homes under the earth, away from the light. Mythal had little issue with them, as they did nothing to actively work against the rest of the empire but Elgar’nan was aggravated by this group for not bowing to him, these elves that would eventually be known as the Forgotten Ones.

How dare they not stand in the light given to them? How dare they not want to stand beneath the Evanuris? Those who fought a war against the Titans themselves and won - albeit through underhanded means. Solas was tasked by Mythal once again to find out more about these elves and how they lived. Find a reason, any reason at all, for her to ease Elgar’nan’s ire against them or to find a reason that they needed to be snuffed out of existence.

His reverence to Mythal had been shaken by her request to sunder the Titans, which he did so despite his hesitations. It was Mythal who requested it and his respect for her was immeasurable, she would not ask him to do such a thing if she did not understand the consequences? Right?

That was how he found himself walking through the halls of the Forgotten Ones. A deep memory pulled from the back of his mind after his experience with Aseradiva. Solas located the main home of the Forgotten Ones deep underground in the forests outside of Arlathan. Walking through the trees, the elf saw many of their court wandering the forest. At that time they had not begun to wear masks yet, the fresh faced elves created from spirits roamed outside of the entrance. Some lay beneath trees in the shade laughing, others readying themselves for a hunt. Solas watched with interest as he wandered through his own memory, paying attention to the elves who surrounded him.

While passing a stream he saw a male elf lounging across rocks. His hair was black and worn in thick curls, short against his head. He glanced toward Solas as he progressed, silver eyes watching him momentarily before returning to the woman who stood in the middle of the stream. Curled white hair fell over her shoulders as she crouched in the water, a tan hand extending out to a fish that swam by her. A soft giggle escaping the woman’s lips. The man smiled at her, his voice familiar but Solas could not quite place it, “Curiosity, do not stray.” The woman turned her head to look at the man and nodded, “Can we stay a little longer?” The dark haired man pushed himself up to wade into the water with her. His voice low enough that Solas could not hear his response, a loud laugh coming from the woman as she was picked up and thrown over his shoulder, a waterfall of curls bouncing with their movements. The man glanced once more at Solas, his eyes holding something akin to distrust. Solas continued on his way.

Discovering the entrance to the halls of the Forgotten was easier than Solas anticipated at the time, but they were also not yet in hiding. Stepping through the arched entrance the contrast between the bright colors of the forest and the dark halls of the fortress was striking. Solas’ footsteps echoed in the empty halls, only stopping once he found a set of large double doors. Inlaid with silver designs of the moon and stars. Pushing through the doors he found the main hall, the same one that he would enter years later and banish the Forgotten Ones to the abyss.

At that time there were only two who sat inside the hall, one being Anaris and another a name that had been forgotten through time. Anaris himself was sprawled over a large stone chair, it was larger than the others in the room giving it an air similar to a throne. He was the one who formed those who walked in the dark, away from Elgar’nan. Whatever Anaris was in the beginning he embodied Tyranny now. Likely some form of spirit of command or direction but it was difficult to tell without asking the man himself. He could see it on the Anaris’ face the moment he walked through the door - he was intending to lead his followers with absolute power and expected those to kneel before him. The nameless elf kissed the top of Anaris’ hand before departing through doors that led deeper into the underground fortress.

Without moving from his seat, Anaris looked to Solas. A smirk appeared on his lips as he spoke, “Welcome to the Halls of Era’vun. You are not one I’ve seen before.” Interesting, he called their fortress the Halls of the Sleeping Sun. With pride, Solas stood in the center of the room. His task was to find out more about these elves and it was not looking particularly good. The man had the same air of superiority that Elgar’nan did - no wonder they did not get along. He was not there for Elgar’nan, he was there on Mythal’s request. So now Solas did what he did best, weave a story.

“I seek Anaris, leader of those who dwell in darkness. I myself walk in the light but do not belong there.” The elf needed to see if their sights were set upon tearing down the Evanuris, attacking those in Arlathan or simple existence outside of its borders. His words were true however - he did not see himself as one of the Evanuris. Not fully anyway. Never wanted to be seen as a ruler or king. Elgar’nan had rumblings of becoming a god, that was even worse.

Anaris shifted in his chair, hands now draped across the arms as his gaze looked over the elf in front of him. Solas was well versed at the delicacies of court so he stood there stoic. No expression on his face that could give away his true aim. The leader’s voice drifted across Solas’ skin as he spoke. Solas could feel the power that sat in the chair, it rippled off Anaris with ease. Unforced. He was no match for Elgar’nan but Anaris’ power paired with a cunning mind could do more damage than even Solas originally anticipated. It did not bode well. “Then you have found who you seek. What’s your purpose?”

Solas had to consider his words carefully after the question was asked, “I am Fen’harel and I hunt for a way to fashion my own mark in a world neither light nor dark.” He distinctly remembered the look in Anaris’ eyes after he spoke, the man was intrigued by Solas’ words. It helped that they were true. Solas had no dreams of leading the elves, no desire to stand in only sunlight. He just wanted to impart wisdom - obtain more experiences and knowledge that would cultivate the ability to offer guidance and understanding. He wanted to exist in a world where his nature was not pulled and twisted in various ways against who he was at his very center.

Whatever darkness Anaris held, he did not show his hand right away. It took Solas years, decades even to find any indication that the Forgotten Ones held little aim beside surviving, thriving on their own. He spent much time with lower denizens of the court who all appeared happy. They had little placed upon them, no restrictions on their purpose. Many flourished within the court of Era’vun, others purposes twisted and changed but not to a degree that caused pain and despair among them. Many falling into the inherent desires that came with physical form. On more than one occasion Solas walked through the forests near Era’vun to see elves intertwined under trees, soft sounds and heavy sighs. He could not blame them. While he was torn about his own form, likely due to how he came into being, he conceded those pleasures were comforts when one felt alone.

It wasn’t until Elgar’nan grew restless that something changed within the higher echelons of the Forgotten. He became impatient with the decades that passed with little word on their true purpose against the Evanuris. From what Solas could report, there was not one. They merely wanted to exist as their own but Elgar’nan could not be swayed. Mythal could not convince him that his paranoia was just that. Many of the Firstborn’s faithful ventured deeper into Arlathan, capturing members of the Forgotten to be brought back to Arlathan. Solas never saw them again after they were dragged into the city.

Meetings with Anaris became more frantic. The man spiraled at the knowledge that his people were being harmed or at least taken by the Evanuris and it radicalized him. He wanted power, Solas always knew that. Solas also knew that the man’s desire for power was not innocent. That thirst for power, the ambition that came along with it would never be innocent for those who craved it. But they existed peacefully in parallel to the Evanuris so he never felt the need to share that with Elgar’nan. Maybe Mythal could see he was holding something back.

Anaris began to speak more on retaliation against the Evanuris. The halls of Era’vun grew darker, Solas met more high ranking members of the court. He could feel it as they spoke, they were all twisted in a way that was familiar to him, he knew that corruption. Discussions on sneaking into Arlathan for retribution, pulling elves from their homes and bringing them back there as slaves. All the things the Evanuris were doing - trying to obtain power from the spirits they oversaw. Domination, possession, control. The loudest voice beside Anaris was the elf from years before. The man with the silver eyes. He spoke of protecting those who were under his care by chaining them to himself, restricting their access to the sun so they could not be harmed by the light.

It devolved so quickly that Solas had little choice but to go to Mythal and tell her of these changes. Anaris himself seemed particularly interested in getting to Elgar’nan through Mythal. That was not something Solas could allow to happen. Mythal was many things but he was still loyal to her.

Rushing into Mythal’s chambers, out of breath, Solas let everything spill from his lips. Their growing acts of cruelty and control over their people. Their hateful words and plans against the Evanuris. He begged Mythal not to tell Elgar’nan, the man would only make it worse, but she did not heed his warning. The violence between the two growing exponentially, to the point that the forests near Era’vun were silent the next time he was able to walk through them. No elves playing in creeks, making love in beds of leaves. The animals were silent too, as if the death and destruction of the people there left a blemish on the land to keep them away. If only they hadn’t threatened Mythal… if Anaris set his sights on Elgar’nan alone, Solas would never have intervened but then they brought their own suffering by setting their sights on Mythal.

It would be centuries later that he would stand inside that hall once more to bring retribution against them for what they did to their people and the continued threats against Mythal herself. The Forgotten Ones were corrupted, unfit to remain in Elvhenan or the world at large. Untold cruelties and malice that mirrored those of the Evanuris. The provocation that set his plans in motion was Anaris learning the power of the blight, the power the Evanuris wielded and intending to use it against Arlathan. Mythal was dead because of the Evanuris, the existence of the elves was under threat between the Evanuris and the Forgotten. He had to imprison them all away. So he lured the Forgotten to the abyss, locking them inside. Imprisoned the Evanuris with their blight they loved so much, creating a Veil to protect the world from them. Then it all went wrong. His guilt caused his chest to ache, even in his dreams.

- - -

Isathe

One of the scouts who rode with them to Therinfal was once Dalish. Isathe anticipated the choice was purposeful, the Inquisition trying to make her feel more at home with them. Unfortunately, she was not Dalish. Well, not truly Dalish. She had the vallaslin and lived with the clan but they were not her people. The Dalish scout, a man named Terys, wore the intricate vallaslin for Dirthamen. He had kind eyes and enjoyed weaving stories for them around the fire. He left his clan in search for more and found the Inquisition, more specifically Leliana, waiting.

The evening was quiet and cold, so the majority of their entourage sat around the fire for the warmth. Varric began first by telling stories of the Champion, changing and twisting the original tales much to Cassandra’s disdain. Then Terys spoke up next, Varric goading him into telling another story. As the story began Isathe felt her gut tighten, it was about her. Terys began the tale like one would tell a fable to young children of a boogeyman who would come for them if they did not behave. Until it became much worse than Isathe could have imagined.

The Dalish speak of a woman who’s greed knew no bounds. She walked amongst the Forgotten Ones, unable to be satisfied by what was given to her. All they did was give, all she did was take. Her hunger and desire for everything that was not hers echoed through the city of Arlathan. We vow never to speak her name -

Varric interrupted the story, “You can’t say her name?” The dwarf clearly enthralled by the tale, Isathe frowned. Terys nodded, his eyes lit up as he told the story, a small quirk at the corner of his lips before he continued.

We do not speak her name because if we do then she will find us and take all that we have until she cannot take any more. But this story is not about her greed, it is about her desire.

What? Isathe felt pink hit the tips of her cheeks and rise to her ears. Her desire?

The Creators wanted to end the war between the Forgotten Ones and their people, they wanted to save their people who were enslaved by those who walked in the darkness. Killed by those who wanted nothing more than to hurt the Creators and their children. So they called a meeting, inviting the Forgotten to the golden halls of Arlathan for talks of peace. We do not know many names of the Forgotten but we do know that the four, those who stood above all others in the darkness were there. They are what the Dalish strive not to be, those emotions that should never be indulged in. The first was Anaris, the leader of the Forgotten. With him was Daern’thal, the god of nightmares and possession -

Once again the man was interrupted, this time by Cassandra. The elf took it in stride, “What do you mean possession? Like demonic possession?” Terys shook his head from side to side, “No, closer to ownership. Control.” The Seeker nodded, Isathe felt a knot form inside of her chest. She did not like where the story was heading.

Then there is Geldauran, god of hatred and malice. The last was the goddess of desire and greed. She stood while all else sat and said nothing during their attempts at peace. Elgar’nan, the All-Father, and Mythal, the All-Mother, begged for the Forgotten to stem the tides of war against their people, that they could live in peace with one another if only they would stop. That is when the Goddess of Desire sat upon the lap of her husband and parted her legs, to distract and seduce those who sat before her. June and Falon’din fell for her actions but Elgar’nan did not for he was devoted to Mythal. He cast them away, the woman’s attempt at temptation ending any attempts at peace.

We tell this tale to remind those who are bonded, or soon to be bonded, to be careful of desire. It can be beautiful between the pair when love is at its center but if there is greed and envy then they could be led astray by the Forgotten goddess herself. Which only brings pain for those who truly love.

Isathe felt like she was going to be sick. She knew the event that the story wove its tale around and her actions then were not done so willingly. Varric was so focused on the elf and their story that he did not notice how pale Isathe grew as time went on. The dwarf laughed, “The elves have wild stories. Can you really not tell us her name? It has to be somewhere. If you vow not to say it, you have to know it right?” Please, don’t say it. Isathe begged internally, hoping the elf was superstitious. She did not want to hear her old name again.

Terys shrugged his shoulders, “I do not believe the old tales and fables, the name only whispered by those who do not believe or the cults of the Forgotten is Aseradiva. But if the other stories are to be believed then she is locked away in the abyss with the other Forgotten Ones.” Isathe’s eyes drifted over those who sat around the fire, her vision growing hazy. Why did she have to be remembered at all? She wanted no part in any of it, not anymore. Solas held a strange expression on his face, his eyes never meeting hers. His normal stony expression showing some level of revulsion by the tale. Isathe wondered if he was disgusted by the myth of the goddess or the goddess herself.

[miloscat]

[Review] Freedom Planet (Wii U)

An excellent, if flawed, retro homage.

I may be done with Sonic, but there's a loose end in the form of this indie game that's been waiting for me on my Wii U's hard drive since 2015. Originally a Sonic fangame, the game's director Sabrina DiDuro soon pivoted into making it an original work, in the process mixing in other influences and creating a rich world. The result has some stumbles along the way but is a very solid retro homage that clearly has had a lot of love poured into it.

There's a lot to the game's story, and it rapidly dumps new characters on you; I felt quite lost for most of my initial playthrough. Basically an alien conqueror is invading the East Asian-inspired world of Avalice, and the dragon Lilac (your typical overachieving hero type) has to navigate five or six different factions and an array of characters aligned with them to stop him, together with her friends Carol the wildcat (a cool, tough biker), Milla the puppydog (an overdesigned orphan with inexplicable magic powers), and Torque the friendly alien guy. Oh, and everybody has some amount of tragic backstory that gets touched on during the campaign.

Between levels are a lot of cutscenes, with full voice acting (which is quite well done). These can be skipped... most of the time? Which I did during my playthroughs as Carol and Milla (Torque was planned to be playable but this was scrapped in order to focus on the sequel). There are a couple of unique cutscenes per character though, as they split up at certain points in the story. As the plot develops I was reminded of Grapple Force Rena [which it turns out was published by this game's studio!] and its Iconoclasts-lite vibe, but with some light-hearted touches. The cutscenes have gotten a lot of flak, but they're optional, can be cut entirely by selecting a different play mode, and can be mashed through. But either way they're not bad, I just think the game does a poor job setting up the world, the story, and the characters.

It also doesn't explain the three characters' very different playstyles, the functions of the various elemental shields, the purpose of certain items... it really could use a tutorial, or more appropriately for the retro throwback vibes, an instruction manual! The digital manual on Wii U is the bare minimum, but apparently limited physical prints did come with a manual, which seems essential... sigh. Maybe this information is buried in Kickstarter backer updates. Oh well, it's kind of interesting to be thrown in the deep end of this world and gameplay and have to figure it out on your own, I guess...

As for the gameplay, well it can be a lot of fun! Taking a lot of inspiration from Sonic, obviously, the game also draws from other Mega Drive action classics like Gunstar Heroes and Rocket Knight Adventures, as well as Mega Man X/Zero. Combining the fast-paced Sonic style with these other action/combat influences can be an uneasy meld at times, as the fighting isn't quite as smooth or varied as these 16-bit peaks. Most enemies take a few too many hits to beat, so I found myself just running past them most of the time; boss fights on the other hand tended to drag, with their high level of challenge costing me a lot of lives and goodwill until I turned down the difficulty all the way.

But the core running-around stage gameplay is solid, with cool gimmicks incorporated. Only... the levels are very long, routinely taking 15-20 minutes an my Lilac file, which feels way too long for Sonic-style stages. Each character brings a very different playstyle that is fun to master. Lilac can double jump/float, has a long bouncing directional dash, and attacks slowly but powerfully. Carol has fast attacks and can walljump, as well as hop on her motorbike with the use of (sadly rare) item pickups which enhances her abilities and just looks and feels damn cool. These two use an energy bar for their abilities; its slow rate of recharge felt too limiting. Milla is more technical, with a projectile-deflecting shield and summonable block to throw which can be combined for a powerful blast. Using these to do damage effectively is tricky and slow, plus she has much less health so I recommend the lowest difficulty setting for her campaign. She also has a nice Cream-style flying jump.

I realise I have been griping a lot, but in this case it's easy to point out flaws and issues and none of them are deal-breakers; ultimately my impression of the game is fairly positive. For an evolved fangame from a small team, it does a great job synthesising its influences into a quality modern experience. This is why I'm so keen to see how the recent sequel refines and expands on this template; it's a great foundation with clear areas for improvement!

[sentmail]

POST FF7 / AC ERA TATTOOS — will work out the details later, but the basis for them are that i've solidified is: kunsel is SC3. canon can give us another person as SC3 and ill just go LALALA.

being an S type as opposed to a G type he ends up being more stable, like zack and cloud are, and due to his procedure being done while jenova was dormant it gave him time to acclimate to it... which meant by the time The Reunion started, it was less a prime directive for him and more of a subconscious call... and repelling. it affected him more than the standard SOLDIER but in ways he couldn't comprehend.

for some irrational reason, kunsel did NOT want to see cloud - he figured it was because of the loss of zack and the anger of seeing that cloud survived and was playing pretend SOLDIER... but in truth? kunsel would just ruin sephiroth's manipulative games by not having the same qualms as everyone else around being "gentle" about cloud's nebulous identity: cloud never made SOLDIER, that's zack's sword and he wants it.

his procedure was done during his promotion to first class, a proposition without a possibility of denial - and kunsel was feeling down enough to just risk the chance of finding something else new. he was awake for it, as was roche... and still hojo did nothing but mock and berate him, no answers to be found to his questions - you're much like your father was... chismoso.

it was a stupid, self destructive and pointless risk... and all he got out of it was mind fog, odd phantom pains and a SC3 tattoo... right on the arm, a highly visible marker of a machination he had yet to uncover. another question without immediate answer... and he doesn't get one, not for a while. not until it's too late.

he gets it covered up the moment things finally calm down and he has a chance to reflect on what he's been through, sorting through document after document from what remained of the science department and hojo's note's - he'd heard of jenova cells once, out of context, and at the time it made sense, some proprietary formula to create super soldiers... but in context it was so, so much worse. he'd been implanted with lab grown samples based on sephiroth's mutagenic dna. they labeled him a clone, but it was clear from hojo's hypothesis that he was meant to be a host instead.

a failed one, thankfully... but to think he'd been this close to losing it all, his sense of self, as he'd witnessed so many other SOLDIERs go through without even going through the procedure? they lowered the admissible mako tolerance levels to grow numbers... and the weakest succumbed to madness... he wonders if hojo hoped for this outcome.

it made kunsel feel... uneasy. this is what they did to zack and cloud? is this why cloud is the way he is? being the first, did zack suffer side effects from his procedure? and here he was, willingly, even if not informed, subjecting himself to the same experiment.

and for what? even with getting so close to hojo... he never quite got the guts to act out against him. he needed what the man knew... until the man was no more, and all that was left were the ramblings of a mad scientist scattered across drives and paper files already ransacked.

he was sick of looking at it, a reminder of his failures, and he'd always wanted to try out a proper tattoo anyway - he had to find a good cover up artist, but eventually he found one, and a design: phoenix, his favorite summon.

it was meant to just be a cover up... and then the sketch evolved into his entire bicep, and... it looked pretty damn good, so it was hard not to add another idea he'd been romancing: roses spread covering his forearm. he went in for an arm tattoo, ended up leaving with a full sleeve after a couple sessions.

you can still see the vague frame and outline of SC3 against his skin, the ink used by shinra particularly aggressive and permanent and just maybe toxic to the normal populace, but the artist in charge did a good job in working within the constraints provided by the odd shapes.

[zairas-realm-gateway]

OFF ramblings: Batter's Purpose

Content warnings for discussion of canon and speculated canon content: violence, medical trauma, abuse, child neglect, terminal illness, child death.

This post is a basic layout of the general conversations I had with my sister when I showed her the game OFF recently. These are just our speculations, observations, and headcanons.

This post will discuss our deductions behind Batter's in game creation and his opposition to the other characters.

As we all know, Batter (in universe) is created at the start of the game. He has never before existed in the lonely, tormented world of the Zones before. My sister and I discussed why he never existed in the world before that point. We think we have deduced why from the information given in The Room level.

First, we have to note the importance of Batter, Hugo, and Queen. Hugo has manifested representations of his parents in his fucked up world. His father is Batter and his mother is Queen.

Now, my mother is chronically ill, so I've spent a lot of time in hospitals. So, when Batter enters a new location at the end of the hallway when you enter the Room level, my sister and i immediately recognized it as a hospital. It reminded us of many we've been in before and left us uneasy.

In the Room, Batter goes to the small room on the left. This room is returned to many times. It paints a painfully vivid picture:

There is a sick child (Hugo) in the hospital. Probably between the age of 10-17 because they can talk in complete sentences but are still referred to as "the boy". This child is terminally ill and immuno-compromised. You can tell when the note says that his father (Batter's human counterpart) says they can go outside tomorrow but that trip outside never comes. The notes say that his father comes regularly to play with him but he doesn't like his father and wants his mother instead but she never comes to pick him up or visit.

This tells me a lot. It says that Hugo's father (we'll keep calling him Batter) is cold but holds deep affection for Hugo. Based on Spectral Batter's personality, Human Batter probably has difficulty with emoting. Meaning he has trouble displaying and expressing emotion both physically and vocally. To a sick and distressed child, this would appear as if his father doesn't love him despite Batter visiting constantly and playing with Hugo.

This could explain why he wants his mother over his father. Affection and emotional support are needed for comfort when sick. It seems like Queen can probably express emotions in a way that would be comforting.

Or, she would, if she ever showed up.

It's speculated that Human Queen has a job that makes her a lot of money but forces her to work/travel a lot. Spectral Queen's later argument with Batter makes it clear that's she's pretty much phoning it in as a mom. The cadence of Queen and Batter's conversation is that of a divorced couple. If this is true, it sounds like Queen has primary custody but just is never around.

Batter is his most emotional during his argument with Queen right before their battle. He is still flat in dialogue tone but it is clear he is passionate about the subject. He accuses her of taking all the steps of being a mother with none of the emotion, care, or memory for who her actions are for (Hugo). Rather than defend herself, Queen just deflects until Batter gets angry.

To argue the point of Queen doing the right moves with none of the personal touch, I want to talk about the three guardians. It is said the Queen appointed them and I think this really happened.

My sister and I speculate that the three guardians represent the specialists that Queen hired for Hugo while she was away on business. Dedan is speculated to be a surgeon based on his temper and excessive need for total order and demand everyone be efficient at their job. Japhet being a bird, dove, and loving books is probably a priest. Enoch would be a private chef. These three were left with explicit orders to keep an eye on Hugo, which is why they're called his friends in the notes. This would also make them opposing forces to Hugo's father and the hard decisions he has to make. One of those decisions is massive and we believe it is what manifests Batter for the first time.

It's the decision to unplug his terminally ill child from life support.

Now, I see a lot of speculation that Hugo bases Batter on Ballman. But I think that Batter is a dual manifestation of Ballman and Boxxer. This would make Batter both the hero and the villain, hence the choice at the end of the game.

This is what brings Judge into the mix. We speculate that Judge is Human Hugo's high consciousness, the one aware of the pain and suffering of the world. Judge thought Batter was a savior but after Hugo's death, he calls Batter a monster. If Batter is both hero and villain, it makes sense that Judge trusted him to help but was unaware this is the action that would taken. He had no clue that this was the only solution that Batter could see.

If Judge is Hugo and Batter is Hugo's father, then the truth that his father is taking him off life support would paint his father as a monster. A villain that is murdering him.

Meanwhile, Hugo's father had to live with that truth and the reality that it is his duty to keep his child from suffering. And the end stages of terminal illnesses are only suffering.

I feel this is why Hugo takes the form of an infant. Because a child, no matter how old, is always their parent's baby...

[raichubork]

I finished reading the HNK manga and watching the anime a while ago but I still have the notes on many chapters without much context, so...I thought that some people may wanna read 'em? This will contain spoilers for the entire series.

I think that the main message is : Be careful what you wish for and be grateful for what you have.

Something I'm upset with is the Fu...A...N? bit getting lost in translation. Yk, when Phos strangles the tsukijin, accidentally blocking their airways? And then Phos is in the library, thinking about what the tsukijin said and Ghost scares them? "fuan" means "anxiety/uneasiness/apprehension" etc. and I think that moment has a unique feel to it that also helps cement Ghost's character.

CH39

Phos' gold expands in their head and explodes because of the trauma caused by the Antarc incident.

Cairngorm understands Phos' situation with the gold arms because they themselves have lived beneath Ghost Quartz's skin. Phos' gold, just like how Cairngorm has lived, has a mind of their own.

And it's likely the arms that acted up and called Cairngorm "Antarc".

When beneath Ghost's surface, Cairngorm did something as reckless as trying to get caught by the tsukijin because of Lapis being taken away, similarly to what Phos did because of Antarc

CH42

THE TSUKIJIN LEARNED TO CHUCK BITS AND PIECES OF GEMS AS WEAPONS BECAUSE OF THE TIME WHEN SENSEI DID

CH43

THE FORESHADOWING

F U M I N G .

CH45

Whenever the alloy kept expanding and contracting, Phos would crack and chip away because their memories were affected by the trauma.

CH46

Guess who's gonna go to the moon...(it is Phosphophyllite)

CH47

Lapis looks kinda evil

CH58

Phos is going to feed every gem the information said gem wants/needs little by little. They are going to maintain the original personality in order to attract no suspicion.

CH59

You're gonna hate that love because you don't understand it??

CH67

Is the prince offering false freedom?

Also, having your old self eat away at you, making you unable to progress is a beautiful message.

Cairngorm would've been more hostile towards Phos if it weren't for Ghost's influence. Cairngorm was like that in the beginning because they had more control over themselves, likely due to the strong emotions caused by Ghost being taken away.

CH71

Cinnabar decomposes into Hg and S at a minimum of 235°C. That means that either the Earth's atmospheric temperature is as high as that, or Cinnabar's internal body temperature is. And that's how they create that "poison" floating around them, which is definitely mercury. Or maybe they can make it float, like Phos can control the alloy that makes up their arms?

Phos may be more fortunate than Cinnabar, yet the latter appreciates themselves enough to not be eternally greedy and obsessed with changing themselves.

+Cairngorm new fit kinda looks like a chess piece maybe

CH72

Teetering at the edge between two extremes, Phos can't fit in anywhere.

CH75

The way that they're forcing gender norms on a genderless gem makes me feel uncomfortable on a deep level.

CH76

People go along with Phos out of convenience and because their ideas slightly align, not because they care about the gem. However, the gems on Earth care about both Euc and Kongō, hence why they happily stick around

CH78

I don't think anyone who's on the moon reeally misses Phos...

CH79

NIGHTMARE FUEL.

Phos lost "Phos", so of course "Phos" was not memorable to the other gems after a long time has passed. Also, what a Frankenstein. Get boxed.

Phos must tired because of the lack of sunlight.

So now they want Kongō's light? After rejecting it??

CH80

The Lustrous may be pure and kind in all they do and are, just like the prince is saying. Going by that logic, Phos has always had good intentions but has been a mess since from start to finish.

CH99

Phos resembles a sea angel to me...which is kinda interesting, since they both hail from the sea. Phos also looks like a combination between the 3 races that derived from humans and none of them at the same time.

Some extra things I want to add:

After CH99 I kinda just started binge-reading everything that was left and I was too impressed by everything that was happening to actually have any thoughts about it. I just felt at peace reading it, somehow.

Anyway, a nice touch that the ending had was Phos disintegrating, essentially "peeling" every layer off and returning to their original state...I got very emotional.

Also, I hate Aechmea with a burning passion. At first I thought they were this evil guy but in the end they were relatively harmless but GROSS AF. I had to force myself to get through all the chapters when they were interacting with Cairngorm because I FELT UNCOMFORTABLE ON SO MANY LEVELS.

Regardless, thank you for reading if you did 🫶

[thelegendarygoose]

How it started p2. Eli Vanto x reader x Thrawn

Again more background on our throuple. Insecure Thrawn. Thrawn has tattoos and an art fetish. General domesticity.

The warnings ⚠️: sex. Filthy sex. Edging. Man on man. Thranto sandwich with reader. Piv and pia. Oral both genders receiving. Do not continue if you have not read this warning. It's there for a reason.

It had been a couple weeks since you and Eli had decided to invite Thrawn into the more intimate exploits of your lives.

And already you felt torn. You loved Eli, but you also loved Thrawn. Eli felt the same. He had mentioned as such as he watched you sketch Thrawn, using an angle that you had seen as he ate you out.

"Darlin'." Eli kisses your cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too, baby." You pause your doodling to look at the brunette.

"I also love Thrawn. Would you be open to letting him be involved emotionally with us?" He glances to your drawing, the look Thrawn has when he goes down on you. He did a second take.

You had drawn the red eyed blueberry going down on you, you legs thrown over his shoulders hair normally slicked back disheveled, a hand tugging through it. It captured the intensity of his gaze immaculately despite being a rough sketch in this stage.

"I would Eli." You respond kissing him affectionately as Thrawn walked into your dorm room. He eyes your sketchbook but does not pry.

He seems uneasy but settles on your other side with a quiet greeting and a kiss to your neck. He glances once more at your book and inhales sharply.

You and Eli watch him as he stares intranced by your sketch. He picks your book eraser and pencil, setting them carefully aside before pulling you in for a searing kiss and reaching for Eli with his freehand.

"I should like to see your finished drawing." He whispers before kissing Eli just as passionately.

He then flops into the middle of your bed as you and Eli nestle beside him on either side, reaching over to hold eachother as he holds you both surprisingly close.

Eli peppers kisses to his neck, chin and cheek.

You run your hand over Thrawn's toned chest. Thrawn gropes your ass kissing your brow then Elis.

You and Eli share a look, sit up, and strip, giving Thrawn a show as your pull eachothers clothes off, kissing and touching heartedly before you both sit down, naked.

"Y/N needs more material." Eli whispers, kissing Thrawn. "Want to give her some?"

The older man nods and let's you both remove his shirt. As you had done previous times ypu note the intricate tattoos spanning his collar bones and upper chest.

You trace them this time and he keeps his eyes level on your face and speaks softly. "Honor chains. I had them tattooed as I received them."

so that's what they are you think as you follow each and every one.

Eli grabs your personal camera and snaps the intimate moment between the two of you before speaking. "can I draw you with Eli's dick in your mouth?"

"You may draw me so long as I see the finished project." he leans up kissing you. "If you would let me, I would see all that you create."

he brings both of your hands to his lips before turning to Eli, and the three of you settle into position. Eli and Thrawn on the bed, Thrawn settled between the brunette's thighs, stroking his dick.

you are on the chair by your desk drawing the scene before you . Your hand moves as you capture the scene of Thrawns lips wrapped around your boyfriend's dick. you capture everything feeling aroused by what unfolds before you. But ever the one to be in charge Thrawn stopped before Eli could finish.

Though Eli complains Thrawn stands and comes to see your work and groans in delight. He then settles between your legs throwing them over your shoulder, and you reach for the colored pencils and return to your previous sketch.

"Draw me for me ch'eo visot," he whispers, but is an order, and you're filled to do as ordered until he leaves you incapable.

red blues and a light purple are the colors you choose As his mouth engulfs you he watches you as you concentrate to draw him using your colors. Eli joins beside you watching the scene now with bated breath.

Thrawn stops leaving kisses on your inner thighs when you start to struggle and lets you focus solely on filling him in. and when you finish and show him, he makes you cum hard and fast. "Beautiful."

he whispers before guiding both you and Eli back to your bed. he settles your back to his chest as he teases your asshole, taking the lube you keep under your pillow to make it easy to enter while Eli takes your pussy both men groaning as they finally take their relief from your body, lavishing it as they thrust in tune.

A night like this leads to many nights together.

You draw on the side while completing your work. Eli is good with numbers and data while you are good with weapons and anything to do with fighting.

Thrawn and Eli are the brains while you are the brawn. So when you reveal that you have been practicing tattoos in between your other duties Thrawn leaps at the chance.

He gives you a simple intricate design that he wants on his bicep happy to let you practice your new craft on him. He loves it.

You also tattoo Eli when the three of decide to get matching tattoos.

You tattoo the Chimaera symbol on Eli's forearm, the expanse of Thrawn's back, and Thrawn paid to have yours done on your shoulder blade.

It's there now where Eli's hand rests while you hold your daughter on the bridge of the Vigilant.

"We're arriving at the source of the distress call." Admiral Ara'lani announces as she glances at you as the familiar starline of hyperspace fades into normal space.

"purgil?" Eli questions watching as the whales disperse letting the Chiss warship approach.

"So it appears," she speaks once more standing and taking your daughter from you. "You will accompany our ground forces Lieutenant L/N." You nod and gently caress your daughter's cheek.

She looks so much like him, and soon, if all goes well, he'll get to meet her. Ara'lani gives you a gentle smile. "I'll leave her with Van'ya go and bring back your troublemaker."

"Yes, Admiral." you and Eli reply sharply and leave exchanging anxious glances between you as you go to retrieve your infuriating blueberry man.

Taglist: @thrawns-babygirl @khapikat222