#so more often then not they were doing full loops which means most loops were at least 24 hours

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt from the top act 5 again. Me and the bestie having the worst derealization episodes of our lives <3

[oliver-quick-ens-my-pulse]

Room of Requirements

Ominis Gaunt x f!Reader

Summary - Anon request for "I’d love to request a fluffy (smutty if you want) Ominis x reader where reader shows him their room of requirement and the two enjoy some time tending to beasts and the calmness away from the usual bustle of the castle! Mainly I offer up potential smut because the first time I heard the room of requirement described as “a place away from prying eyes” my mind tan with that idea"

Word Count - 1,492

Warnings - 18+ light petting, lots of fluff from softie Ominis

A/N - Characters aged up! This didn't go full smut, but I think could easily have a more smut version at some point.

Since it was your 7th year at Hogwarts, you knew you had to start figuring out what to do with all the animals you had in the vivarium. You knew the life you wanted involved having lots of outdoor space for them to be truly free and safe in, but you may have to find out how to make a vivarium elsewhere.

There wasn't anyone you had considered telling your secret to besides Ominis. You weren't really sure how to tell even him, 'hey by the way, do you want to help me rehome the dozens of mythical beasts I've been hiding inside of the castle?'

It made you laugh a bit to even think about it, but you needed some help brainstorming so it seemed like now the time had come. Luckily you were able to catch him coming out of the common room.

"Ominis!" It made you feel flushed seeing how his face lit up just from hearing you call for him. You bounded up the small staircase to the entrance and looped your arm with his.

"Were you busy? I have an adventure to take you on."

He shook his head, "No, but even if I did have plans would it matter?"

He knew you were beaming up at him, though he couldn't see it. He imagined would it would look like.

"No." You both said in unison.

You briskly led him through the groups of huddled students, to the hallway you knew was often empty.

You stopped him in front of the door to the room of requirements and his eyebrows knitted together. He looked down at you puzzled.

"Y/N? Have you lost your mind? First off, I'm impressed you didn't drag me straight off of the castle grounds. Second, I've been here hundreds of times and there's nothing of interest in this hall."

You grabbed his hand and walked him over to the cavity in the wall which held the most fantastic room you'd found in your time here.

"Well, my dear Ominis, I have news. Right before your unseeing eyes, were I am about to lead us into the room of requirements. You have heard of it, yes?"

You pulled him forward as you pushed the large door open, hurrying him in to shut the door behind you to disappear.

"What!" He pulled out his wand and used it as a means to take in everything that he didn't even know existed before.

He knew you weren't lying to him because the room even smelled different the second you crossed into the threshold. It bared your favorite scent which contrasted the dusty Hogwarts halls.

"Are you kidding me? If I had never known of the Undercroft I wouldn't have ever found it either." He slumped over, clearly pouting.

You placed your hands on either of his shoulders, laughing gently at him, "Ominis this room only shows up if you're in need of it. And well, no offence, but you truly wouldn't have been able to see it even if it presented itself to you."

He sighed. "Well, what is it you needed it for?" His foggy eyes bore right through you before his lips curled up into a sly smile.

He hadn't awareness of much of the room, but he was able to force you backwards until you were pressed against wall, looking up at him curiously.

He raised a hand to to your cheek, the other resting on your hip, "Unless you needed it for us?"

You hadn't even gotten the chance to process his words before his soft lips pressed to yours. It honestly felt like a dream.

You allowed your fingers to snake up the back of his neck to lightly tug on his hair. When he moaned softly against your mouth it sent a ball of fire straight to your stomach.

"Ominis-I-," you gasped between breaths attempting to at least let him know that wasn't why you brought him here, but you were definitely interested.

It just proved to egg him on further as he tugged your body flush to his using one of your belt loops. He released your lips to lean closer to your ear and whisper, "Is there anything in here special for us now?"

You shifted enough to peer behind him and suddenly felt completely embarrassed to see a curtained bed that had made it's appearance in a far corner.

"Ah-Ominis. Th-there is, but I -"

"Then show me to it." You definitely knew the 2 of you had a lot to do and talk about. It was hard to ignore the seduction in his voice, but you knew he would forgive you for what you were about to do.

You remained quiet as you drug him along. As he took cautious steps forward, a much different vision playing out in his head, he stepped right into one of the first floor vivariums with you.

Immediate confusion was on his face as the scents shifted to ocean breeze and he felt it too. It was lightly blowing over his face.

"Y/N?" He stuttered your name out before continuing, his cracking tone betraying him, "I don't quite understand. I -" He dropped his head to the the ground as if he could see. He could now hear the quietest little squeaking noises that he recognized to be a Puffskein.

A Puffskein had rolled into the toe of his shoes. "Y/N, why on earth is there a Puffskein at my feet. What is going on?"

You let go of his hand, to cover your own face, muffling your laughter. Ominis looked fairly embarrassed given his initial assumptions about why you were here and the kind-of-sort-of silent confession he gave away as a result.

"So, Ominis," you picked up the Puffskein and held it near to his palm so he could feel the creatures fur, "I-um- I'm definitely interested in the reason you thought we were here. I think we should pursue that later. However, I wanted to show you my secret vivarium."

You could see him processing all of what you just said, considering whether he should use a memory charm on you or not to make you forget he was about to rip your clothes off just a few moments prior.

He lowered his fingertips to ruffle up the Puffskein's fur and he couldn't keep the smile off his face. It was quickly replaced with confusion, "So wait. You're telling me for, for three years you've just been hiding an entire vivarium of animals in here? In Hogwarts?"

You stepped closer to him, looking up at his glassy eyes when you answered, "What if I told you there were four vivariums?" Your voice came out in a whisper as you finished your sentence.

He raised his hands in astonishment, he always gestured frequently when feeling strong emotions, "Four?! Are you mad? What on earth are you planning on doing with them at the end of the year?"

You saw him flinch pleasingly when you moved your lips near his ear, " I was hoping you could help me figure it out."

He immediately shook his head at you in absolutely disbelief. "Y/N you are full of trouble, d'you know that?"

"Well, if I am to help then I suppose you have to introduce me to everyone?" He sighed in defeat, pretending to be horribly inconvenience, but you knew he loved when you dragged him into your more innocent schemes.

As you grabbed his hand to show him over to the Thestrals, he muttered so you could barely hear it, "And introduce me to more of yourself later too?"

Ignoring the latter part of what was said, you guide him to the Thestral's habitat to show him the animal you were most pleased to have; the most misunderstood of all of them.

"Okay, Ominis, this is my momma thestral, Flora." The creature huffed as he reached his hand towards it to allow a chance to sniff. She quickly nuzzled her leathery forehead against his hand and you could see him light up.

"Are you kidding? This is incredible." He got more comfortable with her and you placed snacks in his palm for him to feed her.

"I love coming here. It's so quiet and calm, it's my own nature getaway within the castle. The best part is nobody can find me here."

He listens to you as you tell him about all of the animals you've had come and go, all the things you've learned that were completely wrong from the textbooks you had all seen.

The 2 of you decided to make it a date to come back at least once a week until you both leave for good, where you'll craft some kind of plan together. He agreed to keep your secret safe as long you as you got to come back to find out what the other mysteriously appearing items in the room of requirement were.

[bg-brainrot]

WHaBFHtLA - Astarion x GN!Reader - Chapter 1: Knifes and Nightmares

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav)

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence

WC: 1.7k words, 1/?? chapters

Summary: At 12 years old, you first dream of the Pale Elf. The encounter scares you and sets you on your path forward.

Ao3 | [Ch2] | WHaBFHtLA Masterlist

An elf’s reverie is a time of introspection, of connecting to your former selves and their lives, and ultimately learning from them for your new life. When an elf enters this deep trance, the entire world falls away, and memories both good and bad come to them as if in a dream. It’s not always a pleasant experience, but it is often considered a necessary experience for elves to reach full maturity. After 100 years of reliving your past, you are finally acknowledged as a true adult, allowed to forge your way into the world in your new life.

You knew from a young age that you had lived some interesting lives. You received snippets of them each night, and awoke from your trance trying to decipher what each bit could mean, who the people were, which lives might have belonged to you. You found it a fascinating puzzle to solve– you also had the sneaking suspicion you didn’t always like puzzles.

The oddity of a new life is that you aren’t the same person. Of course not. You’re currently being raised by two well-to-do, doting parents living in Neverwinter. You don’t need a lot of memories to know that this is by far one of the most pleasant starts to life you’ve had. In this life, where you weren’t searching for your next meal or living on the streets, you’ve found the capacity to love puzzles.

When your memories suddenly decide to hand you a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit, it throws your new life for a loop.

You’re 12 years old, quite used to your nightly reveries now. Your parents have lovingly laid you to rest, and you eagerly enter your trance, ready for another clue about your past selves.

Eyes closed, world shut out, you access tonight’s memory easily.

The first thing you notice is the scent of the ocean. Its smell is a mixture of brine and fish, not unfamiliar to you. Along with the smell, you feel the cool breeze tickling your skin, blowing your hair just within your field of vision.

You feel taller than your current self, older, and bigger. You’re not sure how old you are, but you know that you’re an adult. Despite this, you’re unable to decipher much else.

Reliving a memory is nothing like real life. You can’t control your body, no matter how much you wish you could, you can find yourself coming in and out of these memories, and you can’t force yourself out of a memory once it’s started– it’s all out of your control.

So, as much as you’d like to learn more about your past-self, they’re currently preoccupied. Walking up this winding path, a rocky outcropping with some barren trees and shrubs, they seem to have a clear destination in mind: a figure at the top of the hill. 

They approach the person carelessly, as if nothing in the world could be a danger to them– you wonder if they’re more powerful than some of your other lives. You can tell someone is in tow, but clearly you trust them because you don’t turn around to look.

You reach the figure, a silver-haired elf. He’s strikingly pale, wearing impeccably designed clothing that seems out of place for where you’re finding him. His stance is cautious, ready for anything. Most surprising to you are his eyes, a rich red, and they dart between the bushes and you.

“Hurry! I’ve got one of those brain things cornered.” The voice is breathy, masculine, with an accent a bit different from your own. You can’t quite place it, as you’ve never left Neverwinter, but you think you’ve heard it in other lives’ memories. “There, in the grass. You can kill it can’t you? Like you killed the others?”

You feel your own emotions spark at his question, at once alien and familiar, and a surge of confidence radiates through you. “Easily, stand back.” The voice for this life is new to you, but it’s clearly very self-assured. You wonder what the ‘brain thing’ could be to warrant such certainty.

The memory cuts out–not a new occurrence, and your parents explained that lapses in memory could happen around moments of severe emotion as a natural protection. However, when it cuts back in, you’re overwhelmed by the amount of shock and fear coursing through you. You’re on your back, staring up at the same clear blue sky. A flash of silver glints just under your chin, and, as your former-self looks down, you see a knife pressed to your throat. 

You feel your limbs struggle, but the way his legs are wrapped around you, the way he’s leveraging his body weight, you find that you’re unable to get up. Panic rises in your throat as you wonder if this might be your first death. You didn’t realize you could experience death at such a young age– usually this was reserved for your later years of reverie. I’m not ready for this, you think, as you feel both of your body’s hearts pounding in their chests.

“Shhhh,” the man, who is now pinning you to the ground, all but tuts. “Not a sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours.” His head cranes up, to someone you can’t see. His face and tone shift to something angry as he growls, “And you– Keep your distance. No need for this to get messy.”

“I need them alive. Stow that blade or I’ll show you just how messy things can get.” The voice is feminine, their accent matches this man’s. 

“Promises, promises,” he says with a nonchalance that irks at you. “But I have other business, I’m afraid.”

His attention turns back to you. “Now, I saw you on the ship, didn’t I?” the elf continues, his tone is taunting you, knowing he has the upperhand. His next word is a command, “Nod.”

Present-day you, the 12-year-old that just wants to live, wills yourself to nod, to acquiesce to this insane man’s demands and see another dawn. However your past-self has other inclinations. 

Without so much as a word, they headbutt the man. Hard.

You feel the force of it nearly jolt you out of your trance, but you hold on, willing yourself to see if you make it out of this alive. 

The man grunts as he rolls off of you. “Argh. You wretched little–” 

Then your mind is wracked with pain, with flashes of memory that you can’t place. A previous life? You’re not sure. But after the sting of your heads colliding, this strain is too much for your mind to bear. Your vision teeters, hanging on by a single thread, all that’s left are that man’s intense red eyes.

You emerge from your trance with a shaky breath. You reach for your throat, as if to make sure that it’s still in one piece, only to find it coated in a thin sheen of sweat. 

What was that, you think. One thing is for sure: it was quite possibly one of the most vivid memories you think you’ve had yet. The smells, the sensations, the emotions – all of them still linger.

You don’t like it.

Tears begin spilling down your face, an unwelcome reaction to the fear that seems to rest just under your skin, uncomfortable and chilling. Your hands feel like someone else’s, and looking at them shake involuntarily is just about enough to bring you to a breaking point. “Who– who was that?” you get out, to no one in particular.

Verbalizing it helps to soothe your turbulent emotions, look at this logically. Okay, I must have felt quite strongly in that lifetime. You nod to yourself, wiping away tears with a few trembling fingers. More importantly, what did I learn?

You think back to the memories, willing your mind to push past the fear. You met this man. You don’t know who he is, or what he wanted, but he seemed to be armed and dangerous. You had a companion. You don’t know who they were either, but they seemed to be ready to kill for you.

The exercise calms you considerably, and only leaves you with more mysteries than solutions to your puzzle. What ship was he referring to? What was the ‘brain thing’? Whose memories had flashed through your head? 

You shake your head, no, no, none of those likely matter. If there’s one thing your memories have taught you is that specific events are in the past– there’s no use trying to piece it together like a history book. Likely nothing you did was worthy of a history book anyway. What you need to know would be infinitely more useful: who were you?  

You’d been confident, unshaken despite the fear pulsing in your body. You’d faced that terrifying man as if he were just another inconvenience, one that you were thoroughly fed up with.

You don’t know much of your former selves but you know that you want to be that. You don’t want to cry when faced with certain death. You want to headbutt it.

__

Years pass, and you work hard at training in the arcane arts, finding comfort in books and wizardry. You wonder if that will be enough to keep you safe in this life, safe from people like that silver-haired madman. Every time your will falters, you remember that memory and study harder. He becomes a figure in your mind of the dangers of the world, of something to fuel your fury when it begins to burn low. 

He’s nothing more to you than that silver-haired man for more than six years, as that particular lifetime of memories seems to lay dormant. Your parents have explained this to you before: you can’t control which life’s memories come to the forefront. To many, it seems arbitrary. To you, it feels like your mind is defending you. As if it realized you aren’t ready for that particular part of your past. Or perhaps it just knows that your hatred for this fair-haired elf may take over your current life.

The next time you’re visited by a memory of this pale elf, you find that the emotions he elicits are far from hatred.

[thatrandomlemononyourcounter1]

The Keeper Kid's Fatal Flaws

This is a response to @ahoyimlosingmymind asking what we thought the keeper kids' fatal flaws were, and it has been in my drafts for a hot second.

These are half headcanons half canon, and I'm just doing the main five cause if I did all of them it would take a million years

Sophie struggles a lot with putting pressure on herself to be perfect. She keeps a lot of secrets, but in her brain, she's trying to protect others, including her friends, family, bodyguards, etc, etc. She often gets stuck in this loop, of "Oh, I have to be perfect, I'm the moonlark. Everything is up to me." when in reality, everyone in her life wants to help her.

Keefe wants to protect others. That's why he's reckless, that's why he ran off both times, and and that's why he doesn't share anything about himself. He doesn't want people to feel sorry for him. He struggles a lot with being open, and like Sophie, keeps a lot of secrets to protect others, just in a different way. Keefe also struggles with inferiority, especially when he compares himself to Fitz. He talks a big game, but Keefe is really insecure.

Fitz struggles with a lot, but his biggest flaw, in a way, is his loyalty. HANG WITH ME HERE. If you think about it, my boy is incredibly loyal. He follows Sophie to the Forbidden Cities, he trusts his dad enough to do anything for him, he's loyal to his friends, and his family. Because of this, when something happens to someone who has his love and loyalty, he gets protective, and in that vein, angry. (i.e. when Alden's mind broke, he got mad at the world, and at Sophie, when he found out Alvar, someone he was loyal to, was a traitor, he got angry etc etc)

Biana struggles with inferiority. She always feels like she's lesser than everyone else because she's been told that (whether directly or indirectly) her whole life. She's been living in her brothers' shadows for her whole life, and then Sophie came along, grabbing everyone's attention instantly, which made Biana jealous, and gave her another shadow to live in once they became friends. Both Biana's brother, and her former crush liked Sophie, which had to make her feel inferior.

Dex struggles with jealousy and because of that jealousy- bitterness. His jealous attitude towards Fitz is what birthed the circlet that Sophie had to wear, and most of the mistakes Dex has made, whether it's with his tech, or with his friendships, are formed from jealousy. He was bitter towards Stina (and everyone else) for making fun of him and his family, so he was mean to her, put stuff in her drinks, etc. He got jealous and bitter when Sophie was hanging out with other people. He gets jealous of people whose skills seem more important than his. He's full of bitterness towards the elven world as a whole.

[luxyue]

knife boots — part iv.

xiao x reader, figure skating au

masterlist | previous | next

➥ NEW VOCAB ❝ loop ❞ an edge jump, taking off from a backward outside edge, and landing on the backward outside edge of the same foot.

iv. sigh, they're so oblivious

“Do… I have something on my face?”

A gentle voice interrupts your train of thought, which may or may not have been full of fantasizing about a certain dark-haired man who has literally been in front of your face this entire time.

“Are you okay? You seem, I don’t know, more spaced out lately.”

“Oh, umm...” Oh, if only he knew.

You told yourself that he was off-limits. That you were training together and that was it. That everything was strictlyprofessional.

But, unfortunately for you, the little crush that you had harbored for him during your first few years as a competitive skater has come back. Hitting you hard. Harder than your head has ever hit the ice during a bad practice. Lucky you.

It doesn’t help that he’s been noticeably kinder to you, ever since you begged him to help you. Although, that’s more likely because Xiao is actually kind of a nice person. Over the past few weeks, he’s probably been the harshest coach you’ve ever had… and he’s not even your real coach. But it’s evident that he truly cares about your well-being and progress.

Strangely enough, Zhongli, your actual coach, seems perfectly content with your arrangement, so much so that sometimes you barely see him throughout your day. Leaving you and Xiao alone. For hours.

Boop.

A finger pokes harshly at your forehead.

“What the heck—”

“Do we need to get you to the infirmary or something?” Xiao says.

What surprises you isn’t the fact that he just… poked your forehead, but rather the fact that he sounded genuinely concerned for you. Like, really concerned.

“I’m alright! Um, excuse me, just one second…!” And then you run off, faster than he can say ‘axel’.

Xiao is confused, to say the least.

…

You enter a safe zone that is definitely out of Xiao’s sight (the girls’ locker room), letting out a huge sigh of relief.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

“Holy mother of—Ganyu! Hi!” you exclaim, not realizing that there was, in fact, someone else in the locker room.

“Sorry if I scared you,” she replies sheepishly. Ganyu also trained at the rink very frequently, although you didn’t see her in the mornings often. You vaguely remember her saying something about how she values her sleep more. You can’t blame her.

“Weren’t you with Xiao just now?” she wonders.

“Well, I was…” you’re not really sure how to explain what just happened.

“Is he being mean again? We all know he’s sort of a grump, but if it’s really that bad, I’m sure you could talk to Zhongli,” she suggests.

“Oh! No, actually, he’s been pretty nice to me, to be honest,” you say.

Ganyu looks at you, puzzled. “Xiao and the word nice don’t really go together. Sure, he’s not really mean either, but… what’s the word… he’s just, aloof. Shenhe, Keqing, and I have known him for years, and the most we say to each other is probably only ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’,” she explains. “That’s why the three of us were so surprised when we realized how often you two have been together.”

You blink at her, unsure of what to say. Perhaps Ganyu’s words would only make you more delusional about him. Who knows.

“I can’t say he hasn’t had his asshole-y moments… but he’s not all bad. He’s helped me a lot, and… I owe him a lot, too,” you say.

She hums. “I can see that. Your triple lutz is looking amazing, by the way! I can’t believe you recovered all of your jumps so quickly. Honestly, I think he probably likes helping you. I can’t imagine what it’s like for him to have gone so long without a friend.”

You hesitate. “I’m not sure if he even considers us friends, to be honest…”

“Hm. Well, if anything, I think you’re the closest thing he has.”

“That’s… thanks, Ganyu.”

…

“Y/N! You’re okay. What was that, earlier?” Xiao exclaims, skating up to you. He’s close.

Like, really, really close.

Luckily for you, he seems to realize, and hurriedly backs away from you.

Luckily for him, you don’t notice the tinge of red on his cheeks, either.

“I’m fine! Don’t worry—and sorry about all of that, I think I was just tired. Anyway, ready to see me face plant attempting triple lutz-triple loop combos? Because I am—”

“Y/N, if you’re really that tired, then you should rest. There’s no use overtraining yourself,” he says sternly.

“Xiao, it’s alright, seriously.” You can’t help but add on, “Plus, I’m afraid my training partner will miss me, you know?”

This time, you do notice the violent shade of red that overtakes his face. You just don’t realize it’s not from training.

“Your face is all red. Maybe you should take a break,” you tease.

“That’s not… I’m fine. Anyway, you left your phone. It was ringing like crazy earlier,” he says, using the excuse to try to change the subject.

That’s odd. You changed your number when you moved here, and most of the people with your new one are all at the rink with you.

Curiosity killed the cat, and you check it. Thirteen missed calls, and a text from an unknown number.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, sensing your fear.

“It’s probably just spam or something,” you assure him.

It’s not.

‘They know, Y/N. Be safe. xx, CAT’

They know.

They know. They know.

Theyknowtheyknowtheyknowtheyknow.

Everything goes dark.

You’re lucky, though, and Xiao is there to catch your fall.

[yippieitsarvensart]

Tweels hc doodles + notes!

Goodness me, I've not been working on these for very long but here's all of what I've thought of within 2 days of thinking about them!! I basically started writing about them the moment I finished drawing "the fuck you brothers" post (9/24) (and today, 9/26) I totally have been thinking about them more after I wrote all this, so I will be continuing on with my hcs right here, under the cut :3 (keep in mind I have not yet played twst! If I get anything gravely wrong correct me!) (9/28, edit: I downloaded twst y'all...)

Both of the twins are autistic, just being on very different ends of er... intensity? Idk how to word that. I just mean that Floyd is someone who has trouble regulating his emotions and stims a lot. Jade doesn't stim as often, he probably would if he were infodumping about mushrooms/his terrariums or whatever else. I think I mean. That Jade suppressed his autistic tendencies by a lot to seem more like a gentleman, while Floyd doesn't really give much of a shit and probably doesn't even know he's autistic.

on that note they both have ADHD. AuDHD brothers.

Anyways as I way saying abt Floyd stimmies; He stims a LOT. Just, all the damn time. It gets so annoying for a lot of people and everyone knows he can't control it. His clingyness is also stimming, he's very touchy. A lot of stim toys don't actually help him but he does calm down significantly more when he's wearing headphones and listening to loud music. That's what stimulates him the most.

Jade only stims when excited, yeah I mentioned that. But did I mention he also stims a lot when stressed. In front of costumers, if he was stressed he might only fiddle with his fingers behind his back. But as soon as he gets away it's full body stimming time baby. Mans is not okay but he cannot let that mask slip!! (I forgot the word before, but I meant to say in my first dotpoint that jade is better at masking than Floyd!!)

Floyd mcr liker >_< (songs about depression and drugs to think about violence to!) Floyd also likes shit like "41 mins of roblox music" or any spongebob music. skull emoji.

Jade Laufey liker :33 (calm songs to think about violence to!)

Floyd likes dancing around in his room to music. Like really getting into it. Putting one song on loop and doing the same dance moves over and over again. (stimming) (oh my god I'm PROJECTING AGAIN stop....)

Jade likes drawing mushrooms. He's really good at drawing nature and when I say "good" I mean if you looked at it, you'd think it was a picture. Like abnormally good for someone who used to not even have paper available...

I saw this from a moot once on twitter I think, but they both (+ Azul) probably had a hard time adjusting to walking around everywhere instead of swimming when they first came onto land. And I think there was something about holding on to bars on stairs WAYY too tight because they feel so wobbly going up them. Same with like, escalators? and elevators? didn't fucking trust them. And they still don't sometimes... Adding onto this I think that they'd both get really frustrated at first with it. Like genuinely really upset; Floyd dramatically falling to the floor and flailing around on the verge of tears while Jade punches the ground over and over... They obviously got better at land things after a long while but for a bit they were just so. not okay LOL

I think for casual/home clothes they'd both be really into big fluffy jumpers. massive fucking huge fluffy shits. They'd be all over the texture and it would be so so texture /pos drooling emoji

I had a little thing that I thought of where I would give Floyd Heart shaped eye shines PLUS an extra smaller not heart eye shine. And giving Jade a square shaped shine with no extra shines. It just makes so much sense to me. Like I can't explain it very well but if you get it, you get me. Do you get me...

WHICH leads me to say then that when Floyd gets MAD he would have NO eye shines. Do you get me. I totally make sense right/. And Jade getting happy about anything even if it doesn't show on his face it would totally show in his eyes... Which also brings me back to something I wrote in my doodle notes with the pupils being like cats... OUGH I'M GOING INSANE DO I MAKE SENSE

another thing my twt moot said !! Floyd would hate necklaces/rings/other accessories and jewelry! It relates back to my point about Floyd hating the feeling of tight clothes, and things touching his skin too much. I feel like if he had say, a necklace on for like 0.1s he would rip it the fuck off, destroying the necklace in the process

Floyd: :3 (aggressive)

Floyd loving to squeeze people but hurting them is 90% of the time on purpose hurting and 10% accidental hurting and when it IS accidental he gets so upset about it. I like to think Floyd is the more emotional out of the two... just so many emotions in that boy. like he just !! wants to give you love !!! but he's so strong he breaks ur ribs !!!! many of ur ribs!! ur honestly surprised you haven't punctured a lung yet!!!

On that note they BOTH are extremely touch starved. Floyd would fucking LOVE it if someone were to lay down on top of him for hours he would feel so squished!! and warm and nice!! and comfy!

Jade on the other hand, LOVES holding hands. holding ONTO something holding onto someONE.

Jade is a gift giver (love language) I bet you can't guess what Floyd is

His love language is Physical touch. Yeah

Jade getting people way too many gifts when it's a special occasion for them because he thinks they might think it's weird if he gets them a gift on any other day.

Floyd hyperpop liker (just overall really likes loud thrashy music or whatever)

Floyd also really got into those games where you have to beat the shit out of a dummy. He doesn't like ones where you have to TIME a hit to make it work (makes him annoyed bc he can't do it) Games like Pou I think....

While Jade enjoys colour by number or those hue games? just doing it in his free time.

[karoiseka]

16) Third-rate

((ahhhhhh! Actually getting one 100% posted before bed!! ... even if it's entirely too late!! Thank you @newty for letting me borrow your characters!! <3 Very vague post 6.0 timeframe, but not dealing with anything spoilers))

The storm raged outside the doors of the Bobbing Cork, though inside the lights shone warmly against the gloom.  It was a quiet evening, with custom being as slow as it ever got–which meant not very.  Traffic had picked up between the Shroud and Coerthas, and the outpost of Revenant’s Toll having built up over the years and being almost as close as Ishgard meant almost all travelers coming from that side of Eorzea inevitably ended up at the inn.

Through the doors came an adventurer–not an uncommon sight by any means–bundled up against the weather, pack upon their back, hood pulled up to cover the face.  Unremarked, they headed to the counter like anyone else, before shaking the covering from their head.  Dark hair shone in the light, blue like the storm outside tinting the edges.  Aeluuin the innkeep shouted in surprised recognition, catching the attention of a few of the patrons, who now looked at the newcomer with curiosity.  

The lady chatted amicably for several minutes with the staff, a friendly argument obviously arising as her coin was pushed back to her once, twice, three times before she sighed and put the gil back into the pouch at her side.  It was not often that someone would be allowed to keep their gil, instead of paying fairly for their lodging, but this adventurer must be someone who was owed a favor.

Placing her bag in the corralled area with the rest, the wood wailer nodded to her amicably before his own eyes grew wide, and he adjusted some of the belongings so her’s was closest to him, and most protected.  An amused smile graced her lips as she pulled a harp out from its case attached to the pack.  The filigree walking stick that had been in her hand went with the pack as well–some noticing that it looked more akin to a mage’s staff than a fancy hiking aid.

Whispers had started as they saw the instrument, the musician finding a spot to play–and gathering some odd looks when she balanced on the upstairs rail, looping a foot around the tines and tuning the harp.

“Who’s this third-rate fool that’s about to play?” the words were loud enough for almost the whole room to hear, but it only made the adventurer's mouth twitch into a smile, her blue eyes scanning the room.  The man’s refill came with a gentle smack upside the back of his head from his server.

“Hush you, if you don’t know who that is now, then you’ll figure it out soon enough!” Y’lantaa scowled down at the patron, green eyes flashing, before turning to help another guest with their order.  All around, people adjusted their seats to try and glimpse the Miqo’te who was preparing to play.  Most assumed (partially right) that it was how she was paying for her fare, but the few that recognized her already were watching wide-eyed that they were about to get this performance at no cost.

The harp strings sang, the opening chord one of joy and happiness, yet a calm tune to match the storm.  Conversations drifted off, chatter dulled, and a lull overtook the establishment as the true magic of a full Bard resonated against the rafters.  As the first song came to a close, a rustling of hushed whispers wove a background to the applause.  Could it really be her?  Why would she want to play in this small hamlet?  Surely she could easily be the guest of the Seedseer! Or the Sultana or the Lords of Ishagard!  What was she doing here? For one and all had figured out the mysterious stranger was none other than Karoiseka O’dayla; archer, bard, Saviour of Ishgard, Eorzea’s Champion, Liberator of Ala Mhigo and Doma, Savior of the Star.  Warrior of Light.

Heedless of the whispers, she launched into another song–one unheard in this world, but a simple shepherd's song sang in a community much like this.  It was familiar and not, one could almost hum along before the tune changed just subtly from what expectation allowed.  One after another, she dazzled one and all–mixing songs they knew with tunes they would never hear again.

After a bell or so, Karo felt a nudge on her shoulder, and a familiar face looking down with a smile.  The harp was held loosely for the moment–but not forgotten as she turned to half-hug L’selle, come to bring her a drink.  Mischief could wait for another night, for tonight was a night of magic, and after downing the cider, was woven once more.

[thewrittingpan]

Random Head cannons:

Lilia

I firmly believe that he would have a Mountian Dew addiction- sure I think other sodas are possible too like Dr. Pepper but there’s this “dad clock” that has haunted every divorced father I’ve met and it’s a Mountain Dew clock and it always hangs on the wall where the kitchen meets the dinning table. Don’t ask me why it’s a trend in my life that’s between me and my therapist but I feel that Lilia would probably own one in his gamer room.

Speaking of which he’s got a damn gammer room. I’ve admittedly been out of the loop event and plot wise since the release of ignihide’s chapter (I can not spell forgive my dyslexic ass), but it doesn’t matter if it’s just his bedroom, a whole separate room, a streaming room or not. It has a fancy custom built pc, one that lights up and the whole room is themed to match. It’s very well put together and could probably pay my college tuition with the merchandise he may collect.

I personally think that since Lilia is so old, he tends to hoard things. It obviously snuck into my fic Ring of Mushrooms with just the whole house being a cluttered mess of history. Some of it is me trying not to be a hoarder myself but living nicknack because I am just a bird in a human shape, but he just has a lot of things he forgets about.

Call it time blindness, forgetfulness, or sentimentality but he just keeps pictures, books, gifts, random things his sons have drug into the house or stuffed into their pockets. He has jars of buttons that Malleus collected as a toddler, the shiny rocks Silver picked up by the stream, he’s the type of guy to have a full box of the same pencil because it’s his favorite and there was a rumor it was being discontinued.

I also think that he has a soft spot for pinks and pastels especially when the boys were young. Mint/sage greens were a common choice for blankets, hats, and mittens. He also probably color coded the boys. It doesn’t matter if they were the same age or not just for ease and avoiding fights he totally did.

Lilia probably has a bunch of abandoned hobbies. Things he did long enough to have a humans level of decent but not great. if he were to “relearn” it he would appear to be a savant to a real beginner. Some of these hobbies include: Calligraphy, Crochet, Knitting, Fish lure making, Astronomy, Woodworking

Hobbies he would be bad at:

Drawing/Painting, he has a bad understanding of color but a great eye for depth and detail. The forms are always very off putting though.

He tried birdwatching he isn’t bad at it per se, but he often gets interrupted or caught up in something that is not the birds.

He wanted to do quilting and scapbooking, it’s not that he can’t do them either but he always forgets the projects. The scrapbooks mostly the quilts he has a lot more practice with as baby shower gifts for neighbors and for his own kids. Yet his stiches can be sloppy same with the binding.

He has a fondness for spinel gems he likes the wide array of colors like most gems but he likes a lot of the vibrant pinks they come in

Malleus

I think malleus would have a habit of forgetting to eat if not reminded or brought food. I cannot explain why I think this I just have a hunch.

I think Malleus is great at word puzzles and puzzles in general, it’s not inherently that he’s super smart but he just knows patterns more often than not. However he is quite horrible at pop culture references and trivia. For example he is good at Wordle, Sudoku, crosswords, and connections, but since crosswords and connections often have pop culture references those are the ones he struggles with most.

When he was young he collected things. I mean a lot of things, buttons, pins, rocks, pinecones, leaves, he pressed and dried flowers, half of his room was just wall-to-wall collections. This continued on until now but it’s just gotten more mild, though it flares up during stressful times.

He’s very good at quilting if I had to assign a good trade themed hobby. I’m open to other needle crafts like embroidery or cross-stitch but I think quilting is something that gets done during school breaks and he often sews in former button collections to them.

I think he has an aversion to some kind of food, whether it be things like a texture like he doesn’t like the feeling of bananas or the taste of pees makes him nauseous. I don’t think it’s an allergy or anything just something that physically makes him feel like death is the only solution to the minor inconvenience.

He’s a peridot guy sure emeralds work too but if he’s being honest the peridots are cuter

Silver

One time he had a talking to about throwing sand. He was only three at the time but it had to be revisited after an incident with an ant hill when he was four.

He sleeps in a funeral-showing sort of way. His hands clasped on his chest while he lays on his back. He rarely moves in his sleep, but cheese can cause him to sleep walk.

Speaking of which he has a mild lactose intolerance. He doesn’t care to actively avoid dairy but he often forgets he has it. On many occasions he has eaten too much dairy and was genuinely confused by the way he was having tummy troubles.

He cries at weddings.

He doesn’t cry at funerals.

Silver has this hobby of wanting to bird hunt but falls asleep too often. He does however have some half okay drawing skills. Enough to have an upper hand in Pictionary maybe but a good hand on proportions and the details are messy but it works.

He has a fondness for pearls it’s the type of jewelry he thinks is the most beautiful.

[lumi-klovstad-games]

Hey, 343. We call "expanded universes" that for a reason.

It also hurt for those of us who actually LIKED Fireteam Osiris and saw potential in the characters. Halo 5 sets up a neat "Brothers in Arms" relationship between Chief and Locke like Chief had with Arbiter in 3, maybe even a little bit of Master & Apprentice, with Locke standing to learn a lot in the days and battles to come from the much older and more experienced Master Chief. But then the next game comes and... wait where is everyone? 343 wants me to buy more books?! A lot of fans already had to buy half a library's worth just to grock Halo 5, and here's 343 repeating that mistake again!

The Halo games really have just become a means by which 343 plugs the Halo novels. "There's a book that explains that" is the constant refrain I hear these days. No. I WANT THE GAMES TO EXPLAIN IT. The games are the only thing literally EVERY Halo fan buys. EXPLAIN IT IN THE GAMES.

I will give the audio logs in Infinite SOME credit for answering SOME questions I had, but mostly it was used to introduce irrelevant subplots that actually WOULD be better as a novel. Escharum doing his damnedest to keep the ragtag and ill-fitting family that are the Banished together with the disappearance of his protege Atriox, a warrior who was like a son to him, knowing full well he doesn't have Atriox's charisma and he can't maintain the cult of personality Atriox cultivated at the core of the Banished in the same way? Or a fireteam of Spartans, feeling lost and surviving without any real support, realizing that they'll likely die one way or another, deciding to risk it all on a single desperate all-or-nothing Hail Mary attempt at cutting the head off the snake, only to fail, with their only monument being their broken bodies, and their armor that Chief has to scavenge for gear with little if any knowledge of what happened to his comrades? These are plots TAILOR MADE for a spin-off novel. But instead a HUGE CHUNK of the total audio logs gets devoted to this kind of stuff, instead of explaining where Blue and Osiris are, if they survived, and setting up a reunion in a later story — you know, something actually relevant to Master Chief's story that connects with the plot players are already familiar with.

I get that 343 wants the Halo Universe to feel like this big connected thing while keeping the "mysterious" feel of the original trilogy, but for 343 that takes the form of locking players out of the loop: deny the players critical information necessary to understanding characters or the plot (even if the players can operate without that information) and then demand they cough up $8-15 a pop to gain access to that information (or just wait until Halopedia editors inevitably do). What they keep forgetting is that the original trilogy told players everything they needed to know as the game naturally progressed. The Bungie novels were interesting and sundry, but nothing they related was essential — not even The Fall of Reach (often considered the most important book in the expanded universe) was necessary to understand anything in the games proper. And then, when Bungie actually made a GAME about Reach, they made a point to showcase a separate cast of characters on a different part of the planet, playing a different role in the battle, with an entirely different team dynamic, all for the express purpose of keeping it so that the book wasn't essential to understanding what was going on. That's the secret that 343 just doesn't get: keep the books interesting, but keep them at arm's length — the GAME should tell the players everything they need to know.

More than game mechanics or graphics, if 343 can learn to tell stories in the games the way Bungie did, and learn to keep the books away from the games, then that alone will MASSIVELY improve Halo's appeal and bring back much of what was lost.

[dailycharacteroption]

Races Among the Stars 9: Samsaran

We’ve covered samsarans before on the blog in their First Edition Pathfinder form, but much like the perpetually reincarnating people, things have come full-circle with us covering their Starfinder version (at least until we start doing 2nd Edition ancestries and the upcoming Starfinder 2E’s take on them, again, paralleling the endless loop of reincarnation)

But this also closes the loop in a different way as well, as this is the last of the Pathfinder throwbacks that were introduced to the game in Starfinder Alien Character Deck, which was little more than useful flash cards for remembering the traits of various species, either for forgetful players or perhaps more usefully as a way to help a GM quickly switch out the species of pre-generated statblocks on the fly.

Either way, all of those aforementioned species also got reprinted in both Interstellar Species and in Starfinder Enhanced, adding some actual lore to how those species actually fit into the galaxy of the far future, which is nice. (Does anyone remember when the general consensus for where kobolds were was “They all vanished/died with Golarion”? Easily the most boring possible answer and I’m glad they quashed that with some interesting if borderline retcon meta-joke new lore.

Buuuut we’re getting of topic, let’s talk about samsarans!

True to their name, which is based on the concept of the endless cycle of life, death, and rebirth in Hindu and Buddhist traditions, samsarans were a clade of humans born into a cycle of constant reincarnation, often starting out born as ordinary humans to samsaran parents that give them up to normal human adoptive parents, only for them to reincarnate as samsarans the first time they die, and so on and so forth.

Unlike other species and souls that choose reincarnation in the afterlife, samsarans retain a lof of memories from their past lives, though they are often hazy and incomplete, like vivid dreams to their new incarnation. Even with such gaps, however, that knowledge gives them access to information and skills they wouldn’t normally possess, and helps them infer who they used to be, and how to incorporate the wisdom gleaned from those memories into their daily lives and towards a greater state of enlightenment in preparation for the next life. (Which, ironically, is kinda the opposite of what one normally WANTS to do when one subscribes to the idea of the real-life idea of samsara, but that’s neither here nor there).

Now, you may have noticed that earlier I described that samsarans “were” a clade of humans. That wasn’t a slip of the keyboard on my part, because now that samsarans are no longer bound necessarily to one specific world, their pact with Pharasma has changed slightly. Now, samsarans can be born on any world… and to any sapient species, though without homebrewing, these rare non-human samsarans have the same statistics as others of their kind, though with homebrew, well, that just opens up all sorts of new doors, doesn’t it?

Samsarans, unsurprisingly, appear to be humans (or members of their parent species) with pale skin and hair in shades of white, blue, or purple, as well as clear blood and seemingly pupilless eyes.

While there were once enclaves of samsarans that used divination to locate newly-reborn samsarans and bring them into the fold, such things are much more rare now in a far future where one’s already-rare species is spread out across the galaxy. As such, modern samsarans are more likely to simply adopt their parent culture, though samsaran culture still exists in the form of writings and recordings, both publicly available and hidden away that the young can seek out for guidance and a sense of cultural identity with the rest of their kind.

Of course, the advent of multimedia and VI means that this can also be rather disconcerting. Imagine if your past self created a VI or even AI simulacrum of themselves and hid it away for a future reincarnation. Imagine meeting someone that is both you and also not you and the same time. Probably would take a bit to get used to, though on the other hand, Vlogs and extensive digital memoirs from a past can help a young samsaran better connect with those memories, and possibly go about continuing the goals of their past self, which some samsarans do.

Samsarans bear the wisdom and cunning of multiple past lives, but their bodies are somewhat frail (probably all that lack of hemoglobin).

However, they are especially resilient to magical and supernatural effects that target their lifeforce directly, and they’re surprisingly good at bouncing back from injury and disease even if the initial infection tends to knock them on rears.

Their curious eyes also also surprisingly good at absorbing light in dark conditions, letting them see better in limited light.

Samsarans also have a bit of inherent magic, able to breach language barrier one-way, stabilize the dying, and share their memories with others.

Additionally, their memories from past lives include some practical skills as well, though the exact specifics vary between individuals, as their old souls latch onto different things from their past lives.

Much like the thyrs of yesterday’s entry, samsarans are well-equipped for a myriad of smart-guy classes and builds, with mystics being a natural fit due to their half-divine, half-occult schtick meshing well with samsarans theme-wise. However, technomancers, mechanics, biohackers, skill-based envoyed and operatives are also good picks. Precog and witchwarper also share some lovely themes with samsarans with their focus on possible paths in life and such. Meanwhile, like thyrs, they also struggle a bit with melee combat, though for different reasons, since it’s constitution they lack instead of strength. As such, combat-oriented samsarans prefer ranged soldiers, solarians, and evolutionists, while nanocytes and vanguards are a bit of a harder sell, albeit not impossible. Despite their frailty, samsarans can do a lot to overcome that weakness and be very effective no matter what class they choose to take.

And that does it for this week! Tune in Monday for another week of archetypes and character options!

[spudgoddess]

Back in 2020, I discovered a YouTube channel by a guy calling himself Mitten Squad. He did all kinds of crazy gaming challenges. Most of them were for Fallout or Elder Scrolls games. What they all had in common was that they were hilarious. Mitten Squad, or Paul as he also went by (his real name was Robert Joseph Wilson), had a dark, dry, deadpan sense of humor sprinkled with a bit of self-deprecation and a little silliness. I watched his videos constantly. 

Some of my favorite lines include: “I hid from Ringo, by hiding in Ringo.” (Can You Beat Fallout New Vegas with only Boxing Gloves?)

"You're probably wondering which is the boy and which is the girl. I won't give it away, but I will tell you this: the knife is a whore." (Can You Beat Skyrim With Only A Fork?)

“I spy, with my little eye, a vile whore, who needs to die.” (Context: he’s referring to an elderly woman NPC whose very presence always seemed to crash his Fallout 3 playthroughs).

“Explosions were happening. People named Paul were screaming. It was a mess.” (Can You Beat Lonesome Road Without Taking Any Damage?)

"With enough notches on my pistol to spell psychopath in Braille…” (Can You Beat Fallout New Vegas With Only Big Iron?)

“And when I say there were a lot of ants, I mean a lot.of ants. I wouldn't have said a lot of ants if I didn't mean a lot of ants.” (Can You Beat Fallout New Vegas with only Boxing Gloves?)

“You can get a two for one special on Raiders by using the code GRENADE at checkout." (I can never recall the episode, I just remember that it’s Fallout 3.)

“I know a guy who knows a guy, and both of those guys are me.” (Not sure which episode. Also, obligatory Transformers reference, this sounds like something Swindle would say XD).

There are so, so many more. But you get the idea.

There were signs early on that all was not well in Mittenland. He showed a brief clip of arguing with an air conditioner in a hotel room while drunk. Another time, he showed the aftermath of accidentally dropping a liquor bottle into his bathroom sink, breaking the sink. On another occasion, he displayed about 15, maybe 20 or so empty liquor bottles.

I remember thinking maybe he was being edgy, or maybe he’d saved those bottles up over a very long time. But I was wrong.

In 2021, he let his fans know that he was taking a break for several months to work on his issues surrounding alcohol. He’d been struggling for at least nine months, getting blackout drunk 3-4 times a week. Yes, a week. Like so many others, I realized he wasn’t joking, but really had a serious issue with his drinking. He was away for several months, and he seemed like he was getting or doing better. I didn’t follow his Twitter, nor was I on his Discord channel, so I was a little out of the loop. Quite some time later, I saw on the fan subreddit that Paul had been hospitalized for alcohol -related issues, and this was not the first time for him, either. He assured us he was getting better and wasn’t going to stop fighting.

Paul lost his battle with alcoholism in December of 2023. The official cause of death was pancreatitis related to his illness. He was 27.

I was working when I found out. I was on break, decided to look at Reddit, and the announcement  had been made. Since the internet is often full of said hoaxes, I stubbornly refused to believe it at first. But Paul’s dad confirmed it. I cried for the rest of the day.

Please, everyone, at the risk of sounding like a cliche or a commercial, if you or someone you love is struggling with any kind of mental health issue, including substance abuse, please, please get help.Even if you think to yourself ‘Oh it’s not that bad, I just like to have fun and drink a little too much.’ Please get help.

I struggle with mental health issues (C-PTSD, rejection sensitivity, and possible BPD–jury still out on that one, as ADHD can mimic it in some ways and I haven’t been tested yet) and I know the misery they can cause. Thankfully, I have a strong support system, and I know Paul did too. I like to think that if the pancreatitis hadn’t done him in, he’d have won the fight.

Rest in peace, Paul.

We love you.

[shiawasekai]

For Nela:

8. What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child?

11. How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?

28. Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth? 

Aaaah, thank you!!! 💕 These are very interesting, let's see...

8. What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child?

The list would be ridiculously long, she was a known troublemaker even before she intentionally started to cause trouble as a teenager. I did mention before how she often got the kids in her area involved on overly dangerous games, so let's search for another specific example.

Nela had her inquisitive mind even as a child, which means she would often grow terribly curious about the most questionable things. Up to that point, it could be said to be normal child behavior. She would, however, not stop at asking her parents.

Her thirst for answers would lead her to sneak on the local library to get her hands on books otherwise forbidden to someone her age, or improvise "experiments" of her own design. Once or twice she went on her own to the oppossite side of Carpenden entirely in her search for answers, scaring her parents to death who thought she had been kidnapped or gotten in some kind of accident.

They would always plead with her to stop, and even more so to stop involving her brother and/or the other children in the neighbourhood. It never worked.

11. How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?

As someone who is very determined to make informed and rational choices (to the point of sometimes trapping herself in logic loops), she would decidedly seek clarification every time. Especially if it's an important matter, she is the kind to have a list of questions prepared by the time you're done talking.

Any situation that would force her to withold her questions would, in fact, actively get on her nerves. Knowing is the wisest choice doesn't make it any more pleasant as far as she's concerned. Politics can be one such circumstances, which she takes just as well as a sour grape. She'll be all smiles during the situation itself and proceed to complain her heart out once she's in private.

28. Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth

Nela herself would say no, she would rather have the unpleasant truth. In most circumstances, she would be right. Her own nature would lead her to seek the truth out anyway sooner than later, so there is little to no point in delaying it as far as she's concerned.

The truth of the matter, and what she doesn't want to admit is... well, she is much more fragile than she believes. There are unpleasant truths she isn't capable of facing outright, and only a certain sense of self-preservation leads her to avoid seeking answers. She'll justify it to herself with apparently rational excuses (the crusades are more important right now, etc), but she is just running away.

A good example is the time slip situation. She starts to realize something is off very soon, as early as act 1 she already has some suspicions even if her memories are still sluggish at places. She proceeds to dodge any chance to get confirmation on her fears, up to actively avoiding any conversation about Andoran with Sosiel (and outright seeking excuses to run away if he tries to bring up her family); because that's not a truth she's ready to face. She only faces it in Act 4 because Areelu's explanation sneaks the information on her.

In fact, even once the truth comes out and even knowing with full certainty what happened, it takes her many years to gather the willpower to return home and visit her parents' graves. She would probably end up forced to do it by Sosiel's wedding.

[aronarchy]

https://thenewinquiry.com/dear-marooned-alien-princess-3

I’ve been trying to learn more about colonialism and capitalism, but how does it tie into my daily life? I know I have been oppressed and abused in my personal life but it still feels abstract to read about larger systems. It seems like our current problems are now and that’s the past. Can you help me understand?

Well, to put it simply, micro is macro. That means the little things are small versions of the big things. We could look at interpersonal relations, rape culture, modern wars, colonialism, capitalism, globalization, white imperialism as a continuum rather than separate things. Think loops within loops. Giant abuse cycles with mid-sized and smaller abuse cycles interlocked.

You’d say, what does a cycle of domestic violence have to do with rape or the Iraq War or 1492, right? But let’s look at the mechanisms of all these things, how they’re perpetuated, supported, who is most affected, who is assumed to be rightfully aggressive and whose self-defense is vilified. Let’s look at victim blaming and how it keeps pretty much all the “isms” alive (“If only you were X, Y, or Z, I wouldn’t have to hurt you”), and how respectability politics works on the same logic.

The need to exert control over other people’s bodies and reactions and disregard for personal boundaries is seen in abuse within interpersonal relationships, in slavery, and in colonialism. The same “Do what I say or be guilted or aggressed into it” is seen in rape—which is usually an extension of other forms of abuse from people you know and even love. Rape doesn’t come from a singular, isolated goblin in the dark of the night. The same “I want what I want, and I don’t care how it hurts you” that we see in domestic violence is what we see in how capitalism operates across the world. It’s the same notions of “Everything’s here for the taking, to be exploited by me” we see in sexist men, in their manifest destiny, and all over what we now call the globalized world. The point has been not so much to connect communities (though that has occurred and it’s had its wonderful effects) but to expand the reach of capitalists.

Your question is why I hate to see rape culture framed as if it exists in a vacuum, when it is part of the larger culture of abuse and systems of domination. The same way people victim-blame women enduring domestic abuse, they victim-blame people who’ve endured rape and civilians being currently droned and bombed: “If only you left, did what they want, dressed like whatever, made better choices, they wouldn’t have to hurt you, be grateful, blah blah.” The same way black women in prison tend to be there for defending themselves from abusers, people defending themselves from the war machine are labeled dangerous insurgents and enemy combatants. In those cases its implied you should be a good victim and just lay down and take it with a smile, no room to fight for your life. And it happens that the more “isms” you face, the less power you have, the less sympathy or right to self-defend you are allotted, the less accountability you get.

By the same token, we can see how abusers, people with more institutional power, are generally more supported than the people they abuse. Power means people are more willing to see your full-on humanity even if you colonized, murdered, and enslaved millions. Abusers are often also lauded as “important to the community” and their “good work” is seldom unmentioned as victims are dragged through the mud, much like marginalized communities are treated on a large scale by their oppressors.

This is before taking into account whose labor, blood, sweat, tears, and land all the things we now have are built on.

That is to say, these systems and dynamics are damn near inescapable. They’re in your romance flicks where being chased after saying no a million times is glorified (A.K.A. a drawn-out dramatization of rape), they’re in your home when you are guilted into submission and admonished for speaking up, they’re outside when strange men assume they’re entitled to your time and body, they’re in your university when you mainly learn about colonizers and are subjected to classist, racist, gendered, other emotional abuse you can’t speak against lest you threaten someone’s chance at a tenured position, and they’re online when people try to use and abuse you and your personal space.

They are, unfortunately, what we see as normal life.

[mischas]

i'm 35 and the oc has been my entire life as a teenager/young adult and i love this show so much. i was wondering when you became a fan and what does your life look like now? do you still rewatch it a lot? what are your least favorite plotlines in s1-s4? i love hearing your thoughts. take care :)

Hi! You're very sweet, thank you! So just as a heads up my answers here are going to veer into the negative because I'm in a super negative space with the show as of late and I don't see that changing anytime soon. I apologize in advance for the soapbox. (and I mean really really negative)

For starters, I never watch the final season. I barely even watch s3, and haven't seen a complete s3 episode in a while. Certain scenes, though, yes and on a loop. Though not lately. But the final season doesn't exist to me because I find it repulsive and a stain on the entire show before it, even the horrendous third season. I often wish I could be like Adam Brody and separate the show into 's1 vs the other bullshit'. Believe me, I'm trying. Though I'd say splitting the show in half is best since you get to end on the shooting. S1 is on another level entirely and it wasn't until CHD that I understood why (for the most part). And that's a really terrible realization the more I think about it.

I'm almost 30 and I started watching when I was about 16 in high school. My life now is... not very exciting, lol. I work too much. Sometimes I don't work enough. I struggle with mental health (as evidenced by how seriously I take this stuff). I got into this show maybe a year or two after it had been off the air and Tumblr (and FanForum) was a super fun place to be at that time (2009/2010ish). The remaining Marissa fandom in particular was just cozy and sweet. We saw ourselves in her, had head canons, made fan art, discussed what she'd be up to, etc. I obviously wasn't part of the OG Marissa/Mischa fandom so I was pretty unaware of the shit they dealt with. On Tumblr we just celebrated her and it meant a lot to me.

For years, I, like many, thought Mischa chose to leave on her own. I could semi-stomach 325 as an arc, while still refusing to watch the next season in rewatches. This is the 2010s when JS was yelling "Tragedy was in her DNA" etc. But ever since MB started talking more about her experiences in 2021, and the podcast talking around her and Marissa forever, not to mention their shitty responses to her claims of bullying by men in power, I have been on a downward trajectory with it. The book is giving us maybe 10% of what really happened on that set. Mischa has been carrying the secret of her first relationship on her shoulders for 20 years, one that went on for months when she was 17 years old, and they all well fucking know that. I am in genuine disbelief at how they treated her then and how they treat her now. This isn't a fictional character. This is a real fucking person they keep screwing over!

But that does bring me to my next point which is that this show was unbelievably influenced by irl dynamics and I think that is disgusting. It's not just stealing Death Cab away from Adam (though I have my own thoughts on all that). There's a reason Ryan never pines for Marissa in the same way she pines for him in s2. Why he pretends she doesn't exist when he isn't dating her (from s2 on). There's an extremely charged energy to the way he verbally abuses her in 209. Like... this happened to MB at just 18. And look at how they modeled Volchok after Cisco and how they made MB pretend to do coke on camera when they knew full well she had a sober coach on set. Like, I know enough to put me off the show forever, but I am unfortunately endlessly fascinated by it. I'm sorry that I can't take the show at face value anymore, because it did and does still mean a great deal to me. But they thought they were in the clear 20 years later to only partially air their dirty laundry without much pushback and MB had the guts to say "well hold on" and be a thousand times more graceful doing so than I ever would. And we still don't know even a fraction of everything else that went down to this very real teenage girl they used and abused. Not to mention how JS/SS abruptly fired her and didn't even have the balls to tell her to her face. Her father told Josh's ass to stay away from the 325 set and he DID. Christ alive, this man should never work again.

I don't feel great about going all guns blazing here but I'm very tired and I get very little joy from the show right now. And I'm sorry that this is definitely not the response you were probably hoping for. To be clear, I want to enjoy the show. It means more to me than any other, probably. It's why I've been on this website since I was a teenager. But many aspects of it have been ruined for me and idk if there's a way back. How they purport themselves to be a family show still to this day when they treated the girl that they pursued for the job (at 16!) like shit is egregious. I will never be over it.

Sigh

To answer your actual questions, my least favorite plotlines (from s1-s3) are:

Johnny

Jimmy leaving in 207

Dean Hess

DJ

Julie/Luke

Lindsay/Caleb/Ryan

Charlotte

Hospital/Newport Group

Seth/pot (on paper this sounds wonderful but in execution it is as lifeless as the second half of the entire show)

Oliver (for good measure, officially when they jump the shark; he drives me crazy but TH does such a good job playing him that I'm ok with it until all of its aftermath is unfairly put on Marissa)

[aerodaltonimperial]

for the morning after prompts: did i give you that hickey?

(💚🧡)

In the dead of winter, when they'd been shuffled between locations full of biting winds and piled snow drifts and the Firm breathing down their necks, they had started the tradition of piling onto one of the beds and watching a movie: something mindless, usually action, always full of enough sights and sounds and explosions that they could forget all the shit they were both running from. Most of the time, it worked well enough, and so they stuck with it. Then it was just easier to stay where they were to catch the necessary hours of sleep, and if their limbs tangled, if their legs curled together, if they woke more often than not curved around each other like quotation marks, then, frankly, it was no one's business but theirs. They were still them; still a sometimes tag team, still friends.

But this time, when Hook opens his eyes, he thinks they probably aren't anymore: at least not the way they were. Like always, he's pressed up against Jack's back, his arm looped over the man's side. This time, there's no fabric between them. This time, Hook knows intimately what Jack feels like moving against him, how Jack keeps his eyes open sometimes when he kisses like he's too keyed up to lose the visuals, the way Jack somehow makes everything so fucking soft even when it shouldn't be possible to do so. Hook knows the way Jack fucks, and it's an overwhelm of knowledge that slams back into his brain once the last vestiges of sleep have fled.

Hook's pretty sure he should have seen this coming after they'd begun curling their pinkies together sometimes even outside the safety of the hotel rooms, an anchor as they found their bearings again in uncertain tides.

As Hook is lost in his thoughts, Jack wakes. Turns over, keeping Hook's arm where it is as though he's afraid Hook will bolt as soon as he's got an opening. "Hey."

"Hey," Hook returns. Weirdly enough, this situation is decidedly un-weird, and maybe he should have seen that coming, too.

"So," Jack says.

"So," Hook returns.

"Am I remembering last night right?" Jack asks.

"I dunno. What are you remembering? Maybe it's different." Hook leans in, squints. "Did I give you that hickey?"

"You did what?" Jack squawks, hand flying to his neck.

Hook smirks at him, setting his chin on Jack's shoulder. "Kidding. I didn't."

"Thank fuck, I have to be on camera." Jack sighs, shakes his head. His expression gets a little more contemplative as he bites on his lower lip. Hook sort of wants to do that for him. "Is this a thing now?"

"Do you want it to be?"

"Yeah." Jack holds Hook's gaze, steady. "Yeah, I do."

Thank fuck. But all Hook says back is, "Okay."

"That easy?"

Hook shrugs a bit, which ends up dragging their skin together. Jack's so fucking warm, and it's a little intoxicating. "Kinda always been that easy with you, honestly."

"Guess it has," Jack says, with the hint of a smile. "I didn't actually mean for this to happen, back then."

"No?" Hook thumbs at his nose when Jack's hair tickles it. "Glad it did, though."

"Yeah." Jack's grin widens. "Me too."

[tabbyrocks]

Original heaven concept by little ol' me!!

okay so recently I binged the entirety of good omens and thought "hey wouldn't it be so cool if I made my own version of heaven for AU's and stuff" so here we are.

The social hierarchy and wing clipping.

there is no such thing as hell. hell is a myth used to scare human children into behaving. Heaven has no need for hell due to them already having their own method for punishing angels that disrupt the flow of things.

the punishment is clipping the offenders' wings.

because, you see, angel feathers don't grow back. when an angel's wings are clipped, they lose their ability to fly.

flight, for angels, is a sign of holiness, purity and all that good stuff. So, when an angel's wings are clipped, they fall significantly down the social higharchy.

(social higharchy chart I made)

Shunning and mistreatment of other angels would usually get you in big trouble, but clipped angels are the exception. this is why hell does not exist. the true punishment is being hated.

(random wing clipping chart I found on google)

The amount of wing clipped depends on the crime. Partial clips are for lesser crimes while full clips are for the relatively bad ones.

of course, crimes in the context of heaven are things that would be very minor on earth. like lying, questioning gods will, jealousy ect.

Fae / Faeries

Even though hell doesn't exist, angels still have enemies. and Faeries are one of them.

Fae live on earth. they have no rules, and just do whatever they want. most the time, they cause chaos. they love messing with humans, but they especially love messing with angels whenever they happen to be performing any sort of earthly duties assigned to them.

The fae also believe in wing symbolism. their wings, to them, are a sign of freedom. but angels think that their bug-like wings are dirty and impure.

Humanity and the afterlife.

since hell doesn't exist, humans are resurrected. if the person who died was good, they are resurrected into a more well-off body (born into wealth, no disabilities or illnesses etc.) and the opposite for those who were bad.

but there is a special exception to people who were, well, exceptionally good. their soul is taken from the loop, and they become angels, they will just have no memory of their human life.

a few more important details i should mention

Angels all have jobs to do. high angels lead the bigger jobs, like creating things. things like new planets, animals, and even new angels. sometimes they will let normal angels work with them, as helpers. clipped angels still have the jobs that normal angels have, they just aren't allowed to work with high angels.

Baby angels don't exist. Angels are created for a purpose, so it wouldn't make sense for them to need to develop physically or mentally. this also means that angels don't reproduce and are completely asexual. (This means they don't have sexual organs either. built like a ken doll.)

even though faeries don't follow any rules, its relatively frowned upon to befriend an angel.

angels and fae can both shapeshift, they just have a main form they stick to for comfort purposes.

an angel's wings are a permanent part of their form, which means they can't shapeshift them to be normal if they are clipped. they can hide them though. this doesn't apply to fae.

angel wings are ALWAYS white. fae wings can be any color as long as they still are somewhat see-through. Fae wings can't be butterfly-ish or moth-ish, because the clear bug wing is a defining trait of a fae.

angels, from the moment they are created, are taught that sin is bad (duh) and that's mainly why clipped angels are hated, everyone is just brainwashed basically.

High angels often have another pair of smaller, decorative wings somewhere on their body to show their status. the more wings, the more important they are. If the angel has to get its wings clipped, the extra pair of wings are simply removed. this leaves a scar.

Fae kind of just come from the ground, while Angels are sculpted from clay. (so technically they both come from the ground) When an angel's form is completed, holy water is dumped on the statue to bring it "to life" (important note, holy water can only be created by god)

Angels bleed grey, like watered down clay. if an angel loses a limb, it can be reconstructed with clay. holy water must be dumped onto the limb once it's attached for it to, well, not be clay anymore.

Since angels are sculpted, limbs or new wings must be attached by scoring the area first (scoring is a pottery thing. its where you have to scratch up the parts of the clay you want to attach something to so the clay sticks better).

alright, that's all of it! if you use this idea for any ocs or aus PLEASE credit me.