#still had to rewrite it because the original didn't send
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I feel like it would really help here if people would also laugh - or at least smile - even when they find out that their language is the one with the funny word. (I can't think of a good example offhand but I'm sure there's many English words that sound funny in some other languages. I know there's some Russian ones...)
I suspect that most people stopped laughing at Chinese words because there were too many bad reactions from Chinese speakers insisting that there's absolutely nothing funny in that word at all and would people please stop laughing at it.
Maybe more people should adopt the position of (Russian sci-fi writer and popular blogger) Leonid Kaganov, who, upon finding out that his surname sounds like "caganer" in Spanish, decided that Spanish must be a very funny language because it made a bad word out of his name.
...now that I've phrased it that way I wonder if the specific exclusion of Britain* from this situation is also for pretty much that exact reason (or at least something very similar to it).
That is to say, as far as I know, British people do not, usually, complain at Americans making fun of British place names. Indeed, British people frequently also make fun of British place names (even from their own region), so (I suspect) they would probably find it pretty natural that non-British people do that too.
(I'm not sure to what extent this is also applicable to British accents.)
*) ...yes, the OP said England. I'd be very surprised if it isn't also applicable to, at least, Scotland. Wales is also frequently made fun of but I'm not sure if they also play it up to anywhere near the same extent. Ireland, on the other hand, is full of people being furiously protective of their ancient language (that they, for sad historical reasons, mostly can't actually speak). But they do also have a long-standing tradition of people making fun of each other (and themselves), so it might still balance out; I'm not very sure.
have decided that actually the USAmerican attitude to mocking English place names, accents etc. is in fact the last vestiges of Empire at work in their hearts.
You see, ordinarily, people (or at least the sort of people I hang out with/read on Tumblr) have some notion that foreign places are foreign places, and they do things differently there, and to react with bafflement and incredulity to this would be the act of a complete and utter yokel.
Thus, even if on an instinctive level you find it funny when a Chinese person's name is Wang (or whatever), this layer of second thoughts kicks in, you remember to have perspective, and thus avoid embarrassing yourself.
That this layer apparently so frequently fails to kick in for USAmericans regarding England and seemingly nowhere else can only mean that on some unconscious level, they do not regard it as foreign.
so yeh from now on when i see people in fullon fartwanking guffawing disbelief that anyone really talks differently to how they do, which is obviously unexaminedly definitely the correct way to talk, i shall know that theyre still british subjects in their hearts
#words#funny words#languages#funny languages#chinese#long wang#words sounding funny in other languages#linguistics (kind of)#russian#russian language#spanish language#kaganov#leonid kaganov#to react with bafflement and incredulity should not be the act of a complete and utter yokel#british place names#monty python#I couldn't send this post at first because Tumblr wasn't loading#apparently I just got logged out or something but not sure#still had to rewrite it because the original didn't send#draft saved#I hope it works this time
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Oblivious - A. Hotchner x Reader
Request: Hotch x bau reader where hotch has feelings but reader is completely oblivious?
Word count: 2k
A/N: this is a rewrite of a fic from like 5 years ago, if you want to check out the original here to see how much has changed. Feel free to leave requests! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK IN COMMENTS OR ASKS PLS i need to know if I'm still writing like I'm 14 😭.
The line. There was always a line. A line between good and evil. A line between love and hate. A line between professional and personal. That was a line you loved to flirt with, to teeter on, to play with like it was your favorite toy. Of course, you shouldn't be flirting with your boss, but when he was stood there, in that suit that highlights his shoulders and his wrists and his thighs and oh god...
“(Y/N)?” And the way your name came from his lips was like heaven on earth right there. “(Y/N)?” What? A hand lightly brushed against your shoulder as he moved his head to be in eyeline with you. Slight concern in them as he gave you a small smile, sending electric through your body and thoroughly grounding you to earth.
“Yes, I'm sorry, I'm just... tired.” You tried to look anywhere but his eyes as you so desperately tried to cover the train of thought that had your skin buzzing and your heart racing. You glanced at his hand on your shoulder as he took it away, wanting to whine at the loss of contact.
Flirting with your boss was your own self sabotage. But you relished it every time. Every touch he missed. Every glance he didn't see. Every time your heart rate sped up as you saw him leave his office. He didn't notice any of it. And it made you want him all that much more. You should've been glad. Ecstatic even. Because once he realized you liked him, in a way he didn't like you, in a way no subordinate should ever like their boss. That line would be crossed. And no amount of ‘I'm sorry’ or ‘let's forget about it’ could undo it.
Morgan and JJ stood a length away, taking in the scene in front of them. You, absentmindedly playing with your hair, a sign of flirting. And him, fiddling with his hands as he looked into your eyes whilst you spoke.
-
“Do you think they’ll ever notice the other is so head over heels for them?” JJ stated, watching you two with a look that's usually only reserved for Henry when he doesn't understand what he did wrong, or when Emily is openly talking about someone right behind her. A grimace more like.
“Nope.” He started, popping the ‘p’. “They've been doing this dance for too long; I'm starting to think it's never gonna happen.” He tutted and tried to take his eyes off... whatever was happening over there.
-
“You look nice today, by the way. You do every day, but you know.” His attempt at flattery didn't go amiss as you smiled bashfully.
“Thank you, so do you. I enjoy this side of you much more, the happier side. Is this some new technique to raise team morale?” You quirked an eyebrow as you smiled at him, desperately trying to quell the faint blush on your cheeks.
His smile faltered slightly. Right. The team. It's been years since he flirted with anyone and clearly, he must be doing something wrong if you're thinking of him and the team. Every day he saw you. And every day he just wanted to throw caution to the wind and hold your hand, touch your face, stroke your hair. Feel you. Gently. Fully. Months. Months of slight flirts and fleeting touches and he feels no closer to being with you now than when you first joined the team. How one of his best profilers could miss something that was right there, he would never know. He was sure he was getting to the point where he looked pathetic. Rossi had even mentioned it to him, a late night in his office over a bottle of scotch. ‘I'm starting to question your profiling skills Aaron, if you two could see what everyone else sees, you'd know there's no question about what happens next with you two’. But here he was, trying his best to put his heart on his sleeve, and even that wasn't working. Or maybe it was, and you knew, and you were simply saving him the embarrassment of rejection.
A cough broke him away from his thoughts. He looked at you as you nodded your head towards your nosy team members, who stood absentmindedly watching the two of you. He copied your cough and looked pointedly at his team.
“Back to work.” He said firmly, turning to touch your arm and give you a small smile before returning to his office. Your cheeks heated as you stared at the spot on your arm, slowly walking back to your desk. You sat in your chair, thoughts going a mile a minute and you sighed, pulling your files closer.
“Oh, Hotch your just so dreamy!” Morgan lays his hand dramatically on his forehead, attempting to mock you.
“Oh (Y/N), you look absolutely ravishing today.” Emily came over to join in the teasing, doing her best Hotch impression.
“What are you two idiots yapping about?” You looked up at the scene, laughing inwardly at their antics.
“Cmon, Hotch is so into you!” Came from JJ as she giggled softly. “And I'm willing to bet the feeling is reciprocated.” She tugged at your cheek, pointing out the obvious blush dusting them.
“Okay, we’re all bullying me, stay mad.” You tried to joke but they all gave you pointed glares like you were the stupidest person in the world. “He is not into me! He just wants someone in this office to actually do their work.” You giggled before pulling all your files together. You pushed your chair back and stood up to deliver your files for the day.
“Keep telling yourself that, Sugar!” Derek shouted as you walked away, receiving an unceremonious middle finger in response.
You jogged up the stairs to Hotch's office, raising your hand to knock on the door, finding it already open. Your heart hummed against your chest at the thought of him hearing the ‘workplace gossip’. Well, can it really be gossip if it's true?
“I have the files you wanted.” You held them close to your chest as you absentmindedly played with the small pieces of paper sticking out. The tension in the office was palpable. The same tension that hung over you when you looked a little too long, or smiled a little too brightly.
His head snapped up at your voice and he broke out into one of those very rare Aaron Hotchner smiles TM. “You can just put them there.” He pointed to his desk, trying to shield his face that sported the same bright pink as you. As you approached, he begged to every god on earth you couldn't hear his heartbeat threatening to break out of his ribs. There was a beat of silence as you put the files down. You knew you shouldn't linger, but you couldn't help it. Youd do everything in your power to look at him a second longer each time he leaves. He looks up at you. He really looks at you. Eyes so bright whilst still working a job like this. Plump lips being gently bitten between your teeth. That conversation, outside. A conversation he never should've heard. This was his in.
“They are right you know.” Your head lifted gently, taking you away from whatever thoughts lingered. Your eyebrows knitted together as a nervous smile and quizzical look painted your face. He stood and moved around his desk toward you. “i am ‘so into you’.” He tried his best to keep his earth shattering confession as light hearted as he could, rolling his eyes a little at the end of his sentence. He sucked in a breath as your face didnt move an inch from the shocked look plastered on it. God. This was the worst idea ever. He could already feel the anxiety and the nervousness and the everything, trying to claw its way out of his throat. His usual stoic look must have faltered, as he felt you lay your hand on his arm, breaking through his layer of despair.
“Hotch.” Your eyes softened as you looked at him, and your eyes closed lightly, a blush spreading on your cheeks. It felt like this wave of emotion had hit you and you just wanted to cry. The line. It had been crossed, and it was so utterly terrifying, and felt so fucking amazing.
He had obviously mistaken your soft tone as one of pity, of rejection. He stuttered slightly and turned his back to you, flushing deeply. He babbled, about how ‘sorry’ he was, and how we should ‘just forget he said anything’. God, he had taken risks in his life, but this was possibly the most, stupid, miscalculated, inconcieve-
“Hotch!” Your raised voice broke him out of his spiral as he turned to face you once more. You moved toward him and lightly pushed a stray hair from his forehead. He so desperately wanted to lean into your touch. “Whatever is going on in that pretty little head of yours, at least let me finish what i was saying.” He shook his head lightly, like he was trying to shake his thoughts away, as he gazed into your eyes for the first time since his confession. “I'm totally into you too.” You mirrored his earlier words with a slight giggle. And just like that, a wave of emotion erupted in him. He breathed deeply, not realizing he was depriving himself of air waiting for your answer.
He moved to softly run his thumb over your cheek as he gazed at you lovingly. “I've been wanting to tell you for so long. I tried flirting but I figured I just wasn't very good because you hadn't realized.”
“Stop. I've been doing the same thing!” You gently dropped your head to his chest, laughing incredulously at the stupidity, that two very intelligent profilers had missed all of this. So oblivious. Both wrapped in their own little world of desperate pining.
“How about i take you on a date? I could definitely use some time away from this office.” He lifted your chin gently, so you were looking into his eyes.
“I couldnt think of anything better” You gazed at him, happiness threatening to burst your heart into two.
Bonus
Through the large office window, the 5 profilers stood, huddled around your desk, staring intently, like it was the finale of their favorite rom-com. They all sighed a huge breath as they saw you lay your head on Aaron's chest, all turning to eachother with the most shit-eating-grins.
“I think, Reid and Morgan owe me 20 bucks.” Rossi smirked as JJ and Emily burst into laughter. Morgan hit himself on the cheek playfully with a little ‘ouch’ before rooting through his pocket for a 20. Reid had tried to argue ‘as Hotch's best friend, of course you'd understand him the best’ But it was to no avail, as Rossi just stuck his hand out and gave him an unconvinced look. He sighed and rooted through his pockets.
After much laughter and gossip, they all turned back to see you placing a chaste kiss on his cheek and hurrying out of his office. They caught him lifting a hand to where you had kissed. Upon realizing his blinds were open, he promptly shut them, trying his best to plaster his intimidating look back on his face. You stopped at the top of the stairs as you realized all eyes were on you. You coughed and tried to indignantly hide the blush that coated your cheeks.
“Back to work.”
-
let me know what you think! and pls request this was so cute.
Taglist
@back-totheoldhouse
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner x reader#hotch x reader#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#derek morgan x reader
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The End of an Era, and the Road Ahead
Hi everybody, the recent news about Dashingdon shutting down feels like it's a bittersweet turning point for many in the ChoiceScript community. Before Don stepped up and took things into his own hands, volunteering his own money, manpower, and time to create and maintain the site, there was no good way for people to host ChoiceScript demos and games in one place: I think the previous solution had been different Dropbox links (which was eventually nuked by security changes in how they hosted files) and possibly separate Neocities sites? Without the Dashingdon site, none of us would have had such an incredible space to gather, share and explore and experience games together, or--for some--even feel motivated to write a ChoiceScript game in the first place, not without an easy and intuitive way of sharing it with others in a playable format. The Dashingdon site significantly lowered the barrier of entry for anyone wanting to make or play or share games; more than that, it was a place of memories, creativity, and connection, and I fully believe that it served as a vital backbone of the ChoiceScript community for many years. A lot of that community relies on the efforts of volunteers--including the creator of CSIDE and the moderators on the forums--and, as with them, I can only thank Don wholeheartedly for his generosity and his 10 years of tireless, selfless, and often thankless work. The fact that a lot of people didn't even know he was a volunteer shows his altruism!
However, all of that work could have only fallen on the shoulders of one person for so long. It's a sad loss to see, though, and I'm very sorry to everyone mourning the loss of the community space, old or inactive WIPs, and save files that will be lost when Dashingdon goes dark at the end of the month. I do wish that there could be an official, stable, company-supported place for authors to host their games in one place, but at least there are alternatives for people to migrate to! (Thank you too to @hpowellsmith and everyone in the community who's taken it upon themselves to spread the news and try to make this transition as smooth as possible for everyone surprised by this announcement. And thank you to the volunteer who's taken up the banner at cogdemos.ink!) I don't know if cogdemos.ink has a page set up to help defray costs, but Dashingdon himself has a ko-fi if you want to leave a tip or thanks for his years of service to the community!
To that end, I want to reassure you all that Shepherds of Haven is safe and isn't going anywhere, and that this change won't affect the game's future. The news has, however, sped up my announcement of something I've been working on for a long time: transitioning away from ChoiceScript and moving Shepherds of Haven to Twine.
Granted, this wasn't how I originally planned on sharing this news. Patrons have known about this move since I decided on it, but I'm a dogged perfectionist, possibly to a fault. I wanted everything to be absolutely polished before unveiling the Twine build, but this unexpected news has been the nudge I needed to take the leap sooner. It's always been my habit to polish my work to an extreme degree: I will rewrite entire novels five, seven, however many times it takes before I send it to my agent or editor... or even before I show it to my own fiance! I still haven't let him read Shepherds, or the novel that I've been talking to him about since 2019, because it "isn't ready" yet, not in my own mind. A common refrain I've always heard from career associates is that my work is "unusually impeccable" by the time it hits their desk. When I do share something, it's usually done. But if I'm learning anything as I grow as a writer, it's that progress matters over perfection. The sudden closure of Dashingdon has made me realize that no one moment will ever feel perfect--and that’s okay. I have to accept that things will never be as perfect as I want to make them before I let them out into the world. Instead of holding myself to an impossible standard, I’m embracing this opportunity to push forward and bring you something I'm truly proud of. (However nerve-wracking that may be!) So, instead of reuploading the ChoiceScript demo somewhere else, only to take it down again later, my efforts are going to shift entirely to getting the Twine version ready for release. It’s a huge task, but it ensures I’ll have complete control over Shepherds of Haven and its future. If I drop everything and focus entirely on this for the next several weeks, my best estimate is that it will take 3-5 weeks of full-time work to make that final push and finally get everything caught up and ready.
Why Twine? There were a lot of reasons behind my decision to move. The biggest of all was that, as the game's wordcount grew, so too did my creative vision for it, and I found myself longing for a version of ShoH that could be just as visually rich and mechanically engaging as I was imagining. Codex entries, interactive maps, infinite saves that can be downloaded directly to your device! Moving to Twine removes the limitations of ChoiceScript's simpler engine, and allows me to honor the game's creative potential and deliver on it in a way that feels true to the journey we've shared so far. It's also a platform that offers greater flexibility and independence for both me and the game: I've put so much work into this project that I'd prefer for its success to rest more in my hands, even if that means taking on the monumental task of publishing it myself, rather than anyone else's.
So. Both the public demo and the alpha build will be released in Twine as soon as I can make that happen. The majority of the work's already done--I just need to get the alpha build caught up with some lingering day off interludes and Chapters 8.5 and 9, and I need to address a queue of lingering quality-of-life questions and tweaks. I want to also note that, while there are very exciting additions to unveil, everything foundational to ShoH remains exactly the same. The story, text, and original functions have been ported in their entirety to Twine, outside of basic edits and refinements that would have happened in the normal course of revision, anyway. I have even taken pains to implement a visual "classic" setting that will replicate the font, colors, and general simplified look of the original version, if players want to use that instead. :) But otherwise, this thing is stuffed to the gills with awesome new features. Custom music soundtrack! Clickable maps! Actual trading card collectibles! Stunning new art! Revamped codex and store and inventory systems! Helpful tutorials and autosave points! Important quality of life improvements, like being able to select pronouns separately from gender and change them any time! This doesn't even touch the surface of it, but needless to say, I think we're going to have a lot of fun. Thank you all for your patience, encouragement, and support so far, and please give me some time to get my ducks in a row. A new version of Shepherds of Haven will be ready for you to play soon!
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Forsaken | 007n7 x Robot!Reader (Platonic)
My friend suggested a fic with the reader being a robot but with an AI kinda like Neuro-Sama(iykyk) and I thought it's be whole to see 007n7 in dad mode again so yeah-
Reader's pronouns will be They/Them for this one!
You couldn't remember anything. Your chip was pretty much fried.
You were forsaken for actions you didn't remember. Your lifeless, robotic body was simply found by Builderman and although he was ecstatic to fix you up, you quickly proved to be a challenge.
You didn't show emotions but your programming was clearly flawed.
You'd have moments where you would crash out of nowhere or overheat for seemingly no reason. Usually this resulted in you either collapsing or completely freezing up because your AI had no idea what it was meant to do.
So, 007n7 was called to check on your code. It was like looking at a digital junkyard.
He had to eventually try to rewrite your entire code, removing concerning lines that indicated at you being built originally for brutal killings. He didn't even want to know if it was for better or for worse but seeing as you were brought to the Survivor cabin, it was likely for the better.
When you powered back on, he even tried to make you feel more lifelike. He had you learn on your own to mimic emotions and develop a personality.
He was actually quite proud of it despite the other survivors not really caring all too much.
You were rarely chosen for rounds, mostly being left behind to keep the cabin clean and prepare everyone some snacks and drinks for their return. Wether a round ended in victory or not, you still encouraged that they celebrated it.
007n7 didn't even program the latter into you. You had simply watched the others handle the kitchen and learned from observations and experimenting. Most of what you made was Pizza though because it was usually Elliot in the Kitchen.
But as time went on, you became more and more lifelike. And the other survivors treated you more like a person than an AI upon noticing it.
You had such a gentle and cheerful personality, only carefree outside of rounds and getting serious when you were in one. You had even grown protective over your fellow survivors and they didn't need detective work to know you were beginning to favour the ex-hacker.
Whatever, they figured it was because your code somehow recognized him as your 'creator' of sorts.
But 7n7 wasn't exactly thrilled by the way you treated him. It was too much like you were seeing him as a 'father', and it honestly scared him.
He was still grieving over failing his son and now he accidentally made himself the father to an AI? He couldn't even begin to figure out how he should feel about it.
At first he tried to discourage the behaviour, telling you not to see him as 'Father' and call him by his name. You listened, but only added to your coding to call him by his name, not changing his dynamic to you in the slightest.
Then he switched to a more neutral stance after the others began teasing him on having two kids now. He began being more gentle with you but usually tried to find excuses to send you off without questions. Of course, you would never dare to question your creator's commands. So you usually went off to do whatever ridiculous task he had given you before idling again.
But then he finally broke, and it felt as though the icy walls he had built began melting. He even started calling you "Kid" instead of your name half the time. For some reason, it made you happy. Especially when he messed up the artificial hair you've made yourself with a light chuckle.
He just couldn't escape it. You were his child now and upon changing the dynamic status for both 007's and c00lkidd's directories, you also began to learn of a new emotion...
Guilt.
Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!
#forsaken roblox#forsaken x reader#forsaken x y/n#forsaken#roblox forsaken#007n7 forsaken#fluff#platonic forsaken x reader#robot reader#you're getting adopted#fatherly behaviour
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Whispers of Secrets and Starlight
Things will get WILD from now on because I'm gonna change EVERY SINGLE THING I dislike in that series and I WILL SHORT THIS THING UP
I love my baby fae girl pls send help to her
Warnings: Use of Y/N, ACOTAR rewrite, female main character, Tamlin is trash, not 100% book following, a bigger level of degradation (not on the good side), Amarantha 🤢, Rhysand 🥵
Whispers of Secrets and Starlight - Masterlist
Chapter 4: Heavy Is The Crown
The days after Calanmai were tense. Tamlin barely spoke. Lucien walked around like he was waiting for the next disaster to strike. Feyre pretended not to notice, but you did. You noticed everything. Especially the way Tamlin's gaze would linger on Feyre when he thought no one was watching. The way Lucien shot him warning looks everytime a different sound was heard in the forest. The way the manor seemed heavier, as if the magic itself was pressing down harder.
You knew what was coming before he even summoned the two of you.
Tamlin stood by the window in his study, back turned, hands clasped behind him. The light filtering through the glass cast him half in shadow. The scene was fitting, for the cowardice about to leave his mouth.
"You'll leave tomorrow morning," he said, voice flat.
Feyre blinked, stiffening beside you. "What?"
"You'll go back to the human lands. Both of you." He still didn't turn around. "It's not safe here anymore. Not with him knowing you're here."
Rhysand.
Feyre's brows pulled together. "But... why would that matter?"
Tamlin's shoulders tensed. You could practically feel the lie forming on his tongue. His fae blood stopped him from telling a lie but it never meant he couldn't run away from answering.
"Because I said so. He is dangerous, and I don't wanna know what his next move is if I keep any of you here." Your nails dug into your palms. Coward.
Feyre stepped forward, frustration bleeding into her voice. "Tamlin—"
"I wished we could have had more time together." That was all he said. Final. Dismissive. As if the conversation was over.
Feyre's mouth opened, then closed, confusion flickering in her eyes. You stared at Tamlin's broad back, your pulse a steady thrum in your ears. He wouldn't tell her. He was breaking his time in half and still wouldn't say why he kept Feyre here, why he made her fall in love with him and why Lucien always seemed so terrified.
You would.
☆
The next morning, the carriage waited by the doors of the manor. Feyre sat stiffly beside you, arms crossed, jaw clenched. She hadn't said a word since you'd left the house. You could feel the storm brewing beneath her silence, all the questions piling up, all the things left unsaid. She deserved the truth.
She deserved to know. The curse had shackled your tongue for weeks. Every time you'd even tried to hint at it, your throat had closed up, the words dissolving on your tongue.
But now Tamlin has given you only one gift. Now you are leaving. The curse had never said what would happen if you broke it outside the Spring Court. You glanced at Feyre, then at the woods passing by through the window.
Your heart slammed against your ribs. Do it. The carriage rattled down the dirt road, farther and farther from the manor. Time was running out. You gritted your teeth, reaching for the small knife hidden beneath your cloak. Without another thought, you banged the handle against the roof.
"Stop the carriage." The horses whinnied. The whole thing jerked to a halt.
Feyre's head snapped toward you. "What are you doing?"
You didn't answer. You shoved the door open and jumped down into the dirt, breathing hard. Be damned this ridiculous yellow dress Tamlin put on you. The driver barely glanced at you, already annoyed.
Feyre climbed out behind you, frowning. "Are you out of your mind?"
"Maybe." You paced a few steps away, your heart in your throat. "I think the time ran out—" You turned back to her, meeting her confused gaze. "So now I can explain it to you."
Feyre's brows pulled together. "Explain what?"
Your mouth opened... and the words spilled out. "Amarantha." Feyre only blinked. You swallowed hard, your pulse racing. "She's not just some faerie in the North. She's a monster. She's had Prythian by the throat for nearly fifty years, and Tamlin, Lucien... everyone that lives in the Spring Court... they're trapped under her rule. The other High Lords, they're all prisoners too. And there is Rhysand." You spat the word. "Whispers say he's on her side, he's her whore and her weapon. That's why the two bananas were so afraid of him." Feyre's face paled, but you kept going. "Tamlin was given one chance to break the curse. One loophole. He had to make a human girl fall in love with him, a girl who hated faeries so much to the point of killing one. And she had to tell him she loved him... without ever knowing why."
Feyre staggered back a step. "What—?"
You ran a shaking hand through your hair. "They couldn't tell you. And technically they couldn't tell me either. The curse wouldn't break if the human knew the truth. That's why none of us ever said a word."
Feyre's lips parted, horror dawning in her eyes.
You swallowed hard, throat tight. "They've been playing this game for almost fifty years, Feyre. And now Rhysand knows you're there. And if he tells Amarantha..."
You didn't need to finish. Feyre's face crumpled. “But I gave him a fake name…”
“Which name?” You tried to keep your voice from spilling pure horror at the thought.
“Clare Beddor.” She said in a voice smaller than usual. Fearing your reaction, apparently.
“Our neighbor?” You closed your eyes, forcing yourself to keep going. “Doesn't really matter, if Tamlin went there and gave himself out, Clare and possibly her family are already far away from being alive." Your cousin's eyes would have jumped out of her skull if it wasn't glued there. "Tamlin sent us away because he'd rather break this whole Court than let himself suffer from your loss. That's the kind of idiot he is."
A long silence stretched between you. Feyre's breath hitched. She pressed a hand to her chest, as if she could physically feel the weight of the truth settling there.
"But..." Her voice broke. "He didn't even try to explain—"
"Because he couldn't," you snapped, harsher than you'd meant. "He wanted you to hate him for sending us away. So you wouldn't want to come back. It was easier that way."
Feyre's eyes shimmered. Your chest ached.
You reached out, gripping her arms tightly. "But now you know. And you have a choice." Her breath trembled beneath your hands. "You can go home," you said quietly. "You can forget all of this. Or we can go back."
Her eyes snapped to yours.
"And we can fight."
Feyre stared at you — really stared. And then, slowly... She nodded. You let out a breath, your heart slamming against your ribs. The carriage driver was still waiting. You glanced over your shoulder, then back to Feyre.
"What will it be, cousin?" you murmured. "Are we running? Or are we breaking a curse?"
Feyre straightened her spine. Her eyes hardened. "We're breaking a curse."
A wicked grin curved your lips. "I was hoping you'd say that." You banged on the carriage again. "Turn us around."
The driver blinked, startled.
"You can't—"
"I said turn us around." With one final, wary glance, the driver clicked his tongue, flicking the reins.
The carriage jolted forward. Back toward the manor. Back toward Tamlin. Back toward war.
☆
The carriage creaked as it crossed the gates of the Spring Court. The manor stood in the distance — but everything was different. The gardens that once bloomed with endless colors were now twisted and withered, vines curling like dead fingers around cracked statues. The golden light that always bathed the place was gone, replaced by an eerie grayish hue. Faeries lingered around the grounds — not the few pretty, gentle creatures Feyre had gotten used to, but some sharp-eyed, other hollow-faced beings.
Feyre's breath caught beside you. "It looks... old," she murmured. "Rotten."
You glanced at her from the corner of your eye, pulling your cloak tighter around yourself. "It always did," you muttered. "You just couldn't see it."
Feyre's head snapped toward you. "You mean—"
"It was enchanted." You climbed out of the carriage, eyes scanning the ruined grounds. "Tamlin kept the glamour up to fool human eyes." You shrugged, moving toward the manor doors. "No matter how much I tried to tell you... you wouldn't have believed me if you couldn't see it yourself."
Feyre stood frozen, her lips parted. "But you saw through it." You paused, glancing at her over your shoulder. "Because you're half-fae, right?"
A bitter smile curved your lips. You pushed open the cracked front door and made your way inside, heading straight for your old bedroom.
"Being the abomination I am sometimes has its advantages."
The air in the room was stale — as if no one had set foot in it since you'd left. You ripped the wardrobe doors open, yanking out your worn hunting leathers. The soft, pastel Spring Court dresses you'd been forced into for weeks hung in neat rows beside them. Feyre hovered by the doorway.
"You're really half-fae?" she asked quietly.
You didn't answer. You just started stripping out of the ridiculous dress, letting the loose fabric pool at your feet. Feyre lingered for a moment longer before shaking her head, muttering under her breath as she crossed to her own room. When she returned a few minutes later, she was dressed in her simple human clothes — plain, practical and ready. You tucked a small dagger into your boot out of habit, but that was the only weapon you'd take. They'd find it anyway. Better to let them think you were weak. Better to let them think Feyre was even weaker.
The carriage wheels rumbled again as it carried you both toward the mountains. Neither of you spoke a lot. You kept your eyes on the road, the looming peaks of the Mountain that was keeping everyone prisoner kept rising higher and higher in the distance.
When the silence became unbearable, Feyre whispered, "What will happen when we get there?"
You didn't look at her. "You'll ask to bargain for Tamlin's freedom. And for the curse to break."
Feyre flinched. "She'll never agree to that."
"Not in normal conditions." Your voice was flat. "But she'll like the entertainment."
Feyre's hands curled into fists on her lap. You sighed, finally glancing at her.
"You need to play the part, Feyre." Your voice softened. "A helpless, stupid little human girl, desperately in love, with nothing to offer but herself. She'll keep you alive for the fun of it if you act like you're no threat."
Feyre's throat bobbed. "And you?"
A corner of your mouth curved upward. "I'll be the distraction."
Her brows furrowed, but you just turned back to the window. Let her wonder.
☆
The closer you got, the heavier the air became. By the time the carriage stopped at the rocky edge of the caves, the very ground seemed to pulse beneath your feet — as if the mountain itself was alive. The driver refused to go any farther.
"Last stop," he grunted, barely sparing you a glance.
You climbed out first, scanning the jagged, looming mouth of the cave ahead. Feyre hesitated behind you.
You glanced at her, eyes narrowing. "Leave the weapons."
Her head whipped toward you. "What?"
"They'll take them anyway." You tossed your dagger into the dirt. "Better to let them think you can't fight at all."
Feyre's mouth opened, then closed. Reluctantly, she pulled the small knife from her belt and threw it down beside yours.
You leaned in close, lowering your voice. "If they ask... you're just a human girl who fell in love with the wrong faerie and now you can't let it go."
Feyre swallowed hard, nodding. The fear in her eyes was a knife in your chest — but there was nothing you could do to spare her from what was coming.
You straightened, brushing the dirt off your hands. "If that little bitch still has the same pets we will meet a very ugly creature, so be prepared. Let's go meet the Attor."
You felt them before you saw them. The scrape of claws on stone. The rank, putrid scent wafting through the cave. Feyre's breath caught as the shadows stirred ahead — and then it emerged. The Attor. All rotting flesh and bat-like wings, its elongated mouth curling into something that might have been a smile.
It sniffed the air, yellow eyes flicking between the two of you. "The human girl... and whatever company she has... another human girl, perhaps." It crooned.
Your heart slammed against your ribs, hoping your fae blood would keep calm inside of you for at least a little while.
You forced your mouth into a slow, lazy smirk. "Wanted to meet us, sweetheart?"
The creature's nostrils flared, but it didn't rise to the bait. It only stepped closer, wings rustling. "And what... Do you bring to our Mistress?"
Feyre's voice was barely above a whisper. "I want to bargain. For Tamlin."
The Attor's head snapped toward her. Its mouth stretched wider. "How sweet."
Its claws twitched at its sides. It was enjoying this. It would enjoy hurting her even more. Rage coiled low in your belly — but you shoved it down. You had to play the part. You had to let them take you.
The chains were cold around your wrists. The Attor's claws dug harder into your arm as it dragged you through the winding tunnels. Feyre stumbled behind you, pale but silent. You didn't look at her. You couldn't. If you saw the fear in her eyes, you'd do something stupid. The mountain swallowed you whole, its endless dark pressing in on all sides. Everything feels like a cheap copy of what you once knew as the Court of Nightmares in Night Court. The recreation almost made you feel sick.
But you didn't have time to think about it that much if Amarantha was waiting. And if you played this game right... You were going to win.
The throne room was just as suffocating as you imagined. Dark stone stretched endlessly beneath your boots, the air heavy with the scent of rot and old magic. Feyre stood stiff beside you, her chin high despite the fear you knew was eating her alive. You kept your expression bored — uninterested — even when your heart hammered in your chest.
Amarantha lounged on her throne, eyes sharp and glittering as she flicked a finger toward the half-burned corpse nailed to the wall. Clare Beddor. Feyre's breath hitched beside you, but you didn't look at her. You couldn't afford to.
"You should have given me your name when I asked for it, girl," Amarantha purred, eyes never leaving Feyre. "But I suppose your little friend paid the price for your foolishness."
Feyre's fists clenched at her sides. You had to resist the urge to reach out, to press her fingers back open before anyone noticed.
Amarantha leaned forward, her red hair spilling over one shoulder. "But you're here now. Ready to bargain for your lover's freedom from what I heard."
Feyre's throat bobbed, but her voice didn't waver. "I'll do whatever it takes."
Amarantha's smile was slow and cruel. "Oh, I know you will."
She sat back again, tapping a long nail against the arm of her throne.
"I could kill you now," she mused. "But where would be the fun in that?" Her sharp eyes flicked between the two of you. "A challenge, then. I will choose how. Three trials, or a riddle. If you survive, I'll let him go."
The room was deathly silent. You kept your breathing steady and kept your heart from hammering louder.
Feyre's voice was barely above a whisper. “You will also free the other High Lords from your curse. Let them regain their powers and free their Courts. Let them judge you of what you've done”
“Now why would I do that?” Her smile was disturbing, the eye in her ring seemed to turn to Feyre, interested in the conversation.
“If you really think I can't win, you shouldn't be afraid of promising it.” The Queen's smile almost faltered from her face, before she flicked a hand in order to say she agreed to the terms. "You also have to promise not to touch or enchant Tamlin until I break the curse. Or until I lose."
Amarantha's smile sharpened. "Fine by me." Her eyes glinted. "I will have all eternity to enjoy him after."
Feyre's jaw clenched — but before she could speak again, you did. "Wait."
Your voice echoed through the throne room — louder than you'd meant to. Every head turned toward you. You raised your hand lazily — the same hand no one had noticed you'd slipped free from the shackles. A few murmurs rippled through the crowd.
You leaned your other hand casually against the cold ground, tilting your head. "This isn't fair."
Amarantha blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"I want a High Lord for myself too." A beat of silence. "You know? For motivation?"
Lucien — who'd been doing his best to blend into the shadows — choked on absolutely nothing. Amarantha's brow arched, and her lips curved into something dangerously close to amusement.
"Your willingness to stay alive isn't enough for you?"
"Absolutely not." You shrugged. "I came here after her, with absolutely no reason to save any of the people in this room. For all I care, you could chain Tamlin up and make him lick your shoes for the rest of his miserable life. The girl here—" you pointed lazily to Feyre without even looking at her, "is the one who is in love with him."
Feyre shot you a look like she might strangle you before Amarantha got the chance.
“Honestly, my life in the human lands was so boring that I came here to risk my life for nothing more than entertainment. I don't win anything if I get to survive this, and if I really wanted to just survive, I would've sent Feyre into that cave entry and said goodbye and good luck when I had the chance.”
You crossed your arms, leaning against Feyre's body — still chained up — like you'd just asked for a glass of wine.
"Well, Feyre here has an emotional support High Lord to fight for. What do I get? Lucien?" You glanced toward the red-haired male with mock disappointment. Lucien had the strength to look mildly offended. "It's not the same thing."
A few scattered chuckles echoed through the crowd. And Amarantha laughed — actually laughed — a high, euphoric sound that filled the room.
"Fine." She leaned back on her throne, waving a dismissive hand. "You can choose one of them." A ripple passed through the crowd as every single High Lord in the room shifted. "The High Lords should all rise," Amarantha called sweetly, "so the little girl can choose one of you to fight for."
The silence stretched. One by one, the High Lords stood from their places among the gathered faeries — some sneering, some barely sparing you a glance, some pleading.
Your heart hammered behind your ribs as your eyes flicked over the crowd.
Beron — cruel and uninterested.
Thesan — bored, already looking away.
Helion — shining and watching with a spark of amusement.
Kallias — fear and hope in his breathing .
Tarquin — tears in his eyes as he watched you.
You dragged out the moment, letting your gaze linger long enough to make them nervous. Then your eyes flicked to Amarantha's left — to where he stood. Rhysand. He hadn't moved, hadn't even flinched, had been thinking he wasn't an option. His violet eyes were already fixed on you, dark and unreadable.
Almost like a challenge. A dare. Your mouth curved slowly, eating up his fear.
"I want that one."
The entire room froze.
Rhysand's brows flicked up — the only sign of surprise on his perfectly bored face. Even Amarantha looked taken aback for half a second before she let out another sharp, delighted laugh.
"You want Rhysand?"
Rhysand's mouth curled into a lazy, wicked smile. Amarantha was still grinning, sharp and predatory.
"You want to fight for the whore of the Night Court?" Rhysand's smile didn't falter — but something flickered in his violet eyes.
You tilted your head. "Why not? He looks like he'd be more fun to save."
The room held its breath. Even Feyre was staring at you like you'd lost your mind. But you didn't dare break Rhysand's gaze. Amarantha's grin stretched wider.
"Are the terms the same?" you asked, voice light. "No touching him. No harm. Totally free for the duration of the trials, or after I win."
Amarantha tapped a nail against her chin, pretending to think. "Of course. It doesn't really matter."
You smirked. Rhysand's dark brows flicked upward.
You turned to him, feigning boredom. "Well, darling?" you purred. "Aren't you going to thank me for saving your life?"
His smile was razor-sharp. He stepped forward at last, hands tucked behind his back.
"I'm sure I'll find a way to repay the favor… little mouse." A shiver curled down your spine. You didn't let it show.
Amarantha clapped her hands, delighted. "Perfect! Two humans fighting for two High Lords in a challenge they can't win. How absolutely... amusing."
You felt Rhysand's power brush against your mind — just the lightest stroke. “What game are you playing, little girl?��
You locked him out with a flick of your mental shields. “Wouldn't you like to know, High Lord?”
His smile widened — but something dark flickered behind it. He still had no idea who you were. But you could feel the question thrumming beneath his perfect mask. He would figure it out eventually. You just had to survive long enough to make him care.
"You have three trials to win their freedom, one each turn of the moon" Amarantha announced, voice echoing through the throne room. Her eyes gleamed as she looked between you and Feyre. "And if you fail... you will both belong to me. I'll still have to decide if you're useful or not. That is, if you don't die during the challenges."
The shackles snapped back around your wrists. You didn't flinch. Rhysand's smile lingered as the guards dragged you both toward the dungeons. But before you disappeared through the dark archway, his voice whispered through your mind again — silky and amused.
“I'll be waiting right here, little mouse. Is your time to play the hero.” You smirked as the iron doors slammed shut behind you.
☆
The dungeons were colder than you expected. Dank, damp stone stretched endlessly down the corridor, the only light spilling from the faelight sconces flickering along the walls. The guards had shoved you both into different cells, sided with one another — each cell barely big enough for two bodies — before slamming the door shut and leaving you to rot.
Feyre hadn't said a word since they'd dragged you down here. She paced like a caged animal, arms wrapped around herself, face pale under the dirt and grime. You sat on the floor against the wall, knees pulled up, watching her with the calm patience of someone who knew the storm was coming.
It didn't take long.
"What the fuck was that?" Feyre hissed, whirling on you at last.
You raised a brow. "You'll have to be more specific, baby girl."
Her nostrils flared. "Don't call me that."
You snorted, having fun with the whole situation.
"Why him?" she snapped, stepping closer. "Of all the High Lords there, why would you choose Rhysand?"
Your smile faded — just a little. Because the truth was — you hadn't exactly meant to. You hadn't planned it. But the second Feyre told Amarantha she couldn't touch Tamlin for as long as this sick game was being played, your mouth had moved before your mind could catch up. As if something deep inside you had been waiting centuries for this moment.
You glanced at the wall, at the crack running along the stone. "I had my reasons."
Feyre let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Your reasons? You picked the most dangerous High Lord in Prythian, Tamlin's biggest enemy, literally the guy who put a head on a spike in the garden for everyone to see and is on Amarantha's side, and now you're tied to him for three trials with Amarantha herself watching. What possible reason could you have?"
You didn't answer. Because how the hell were you supposed to explain something you barely understood yourself?
Feyre's eyes narrowed. "You're doing that face. Thinking face. You know something."
You kept your face blank. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Feyre lunged forward, grabbing your arm through the bars of the cell. You winced as her nails dug into the bruises already forming beneath the shackles.
"You've been acting weird since we got here. Since before we got here." Her voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "You said you didn't care about the people in this land so why throw yourself in this nightmare with me? Why do this to yourself?”
You glanced at the iron bars — making sure no one was listening — before your eyes flicked back to her.
"You want to know why I picked him?" you murmured. Feyre nodded, breath shallow. You leaned in close — close enough that no one else could hear. "I think he's my mate."
Feyre froze. For a long moment, she just stared at you like you'd grown a second head. Then she laughed — loud and sharp — before clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.
"You're joking," she whispered through her fingers.
You didn't blink. Her smile faltered.
"You're not joking."
You shifted against the wall, trying to find a position where the shackles didn't dig so hard into your wrists.
"You know what a mating bond is, right?"
"Lucien told me about it once," Feyre muttered. "It's... rare. Almost a myth."
You nodded slowly. "But not impossible."
Her eyes darted to the iron bars again — like someone might overhear. "And you think...?"
"I don't think," you interrupted. "I'm almost sure."
Silence stretched between you. Feyre's breathing was quick, uneven. "You've felt it? The bond? Are you supposed to feel it?"
You swallowed hard. "No. Not... exactly. Not yet."
Her brows pulled together. "But...?"
You stared down at your hands — at the bruised skin already healing beneath the shackles.
"I don't know how to explain it," you admitted. "It's just... something in me knew I had to save him. The second I saw him in Calanmai something inside me called for him. Like I'd been looking for him without even realizing it. That day I thought it was the magic of the rite pulling me to go there, but when he went away the feeling vanished too."
Feyre sank onto the cold floor across from you, her face pale. "And he doesn't know?"
You let out a bitter laugh. "Of course he doesn't. He won't feel it as long as I'm human."
Her brows furrowed. "But why would the Cauldron give you a mate? They are for the most powerful of the species and you're only—"
"Half?" you cut in, voice sharp. Feyre flinched. You looked away. "Yeah. I know."
Silence fell again. Somewhere down the corridor, a prisoner screamed. Feyre hugged her knees to her chest, staring at you like you'd just dropped some ancient, forbidden truth between you.
"So what now?" she whispered.
You leaned your head back against the wall, closing your eyes. "Now," you said softly, "we survive until she wants to play."
☆
Feyre was quiet for a long time during the next many hours you lost count. When she finally spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper. "You could have picked anyone. Even with the mating bond"
You cracked one eye open. "Yeah."
Her throat bobbed. "But you picked him anyway."
Your lips curved faintly. "I didn't pick him," you murmured. "He was already mine.”
Taglist: @rcarbo1 @raisam @itsinherited @romantic1stories @nebarious @mystirica-blog
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Ladies and Gentlemen. I give you Little Vesperia. She's a powerful punch in a petite package! I posted her design in sketches ages ago but I was SO jazzed to finally do it digital. And I finally could do Teen Zoé and Vesperia.
Buckle up folks this is a long one.
I won't go into too much detail on Teen Zoé's fit, since I already talked about it in here. But Vesperia is where things get more interesting.
Little Vesperia obviously takes more inspiration from Queen Bee since in my rewrite Zoé idolizes Chloé so much. Zoé's father couldn't really be bothered to care about Zoé, she's been at every boarding school and summer camp he could afford while still keeping most of the money Audrey sends him. She rarely sees him, and when they are stuck together he wants her out of sight and out of mind.
Then Zoé is uprooted entirely when Audrey's infidelity is exposed. To save face she gets brought to Paris, to play at being one big happy family. She may be young, but she's wise enough to know this is just another person using her for their gain. She did face bullying at her schools, and a whole lot of nothing done about it from the teachers.
She also does not speak french. Which means that a good 70% of people have no idea how to communicate with her. And Audrey was no help. Zoé vas given so little information she didn't even KNOW she had an older sister when the was taken to France. Chloé was a complete blindside to her.
And she especially doesn't expect this intimidating teenager to kneel down to her level, and in perfect english explain that it's okay to be scared and she'll make sure Zoé won't be stuck wondering what's gonna happen next.
They spend the rest of the day learning where everyone is, and what certain things are called in french so that Zoé has a better way to communicate. They also sit down and order decorations for Zoé's room.
Zoé fully anticipated André to ignore her, but he is kind like he is in cannon. Just very busy so can only get in small conversations with her. Still, he's shown her more care than her own father had in the 9 years she's been alive. Since he'll ask her about her day, anything she may need, how school has been, etc. He also manages to get a free day to show her all the cool things in the hotel that most people don't know are there. He tries to have dinner with Chloé and Zoé as often as possible and they eat lunch together at the hotel at least once a week.
Now to Teen Zoé. I'll probably write this down in a separate post but my Idea for her is because of the limits I put on the rabbit miraculous Bunnix is no longer able to fight Timetagger, but she IS able to bring someone from that point in time to help instead. And since bringing anyone that could be recognized could potentially cause a paradox, the best solution is to bring in someone who they haven't met yet.
Design wise I like Vesperia's cannon design but it does look more like a wasp than a bee. I based her top on these biker jackets that had segments on the sides and just made the segments alternate black and yellow. I originally planned to keep the black top and yellow bottoms, but it just didn't look the way I wanted it too. I think making the jacket yellow makes it look much more like a bee. Also black mask because I like how those look better.
I think Little Vesperia looks good too, different enough from Queen Bee while still looking like she took inspiration, my favorite part was making it look like she had striped socks. While Teen Zoé looks like a logical progression while also dipping into badass as opposed to cute. Also her pupils turn gold to further differentiate her from Queen Bee.
(Bonus- Verpseria with colors closer to her originals)

#miraculous ladybug#miraculous redesign#miraculous re write#miraculous fanart#zoé lee#zoé lee redesign#vesperia#vesperia redesign#bee miraculous
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holy crap i'm really glad your allowing requests today for tomorrow cuz surly i would've forgotten ^^; can i request a sans prompt 1 and 24 from yandere-daze's prompt list? here's a little plot for you if you wanna follow it :3
darling has done a genocide run NOT because they wanted to or hated/was afraid of monsters, but to get rid of sans and live on without killing asgore and anyone else (maybe idk, they would probably erase the world to out of guilt) in the judgement hall, that's when the prompts come in? like i said, it's up to you to follow the plot! also, answer this in dms, are we allowed to send more then one request? i wanna make sure before request more. keep up the good work btw! :)
Ahh... so if they just want to kill Sans it's more like a neutral run? Either way, I hope I take this in a good direction, friend :)
A/N: I was screenshotting the original fic to send to the requester for editing... only to delete it and have to rewrite the fic from screenshots :')
Prompts Here
Yandere! Sans The Skeleton Prompts 1 + 24
“ I love you so much you have no idea.”
“ It’s okay for you to love me.”
Pairing: Romantic
Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Heavy manipulation, Violence, Possessive behavior, Angst, Isolation, Yandere attempts to "redeem" himself, Kidnapping implied, Murder implied, Dubious turned forced relationship.
Sans partially understood your behavior. Despite this, he still thought he kept you happy. You two finally had a true pacifist run after so long.
Only you and Sans were aware of your resets... which was a reason he was close to you and loved you.
He thought you wanted to be happy together. You two were finally able to be together in that timeline. However... even Sans had to admit you didn't seem happy about it near the end.
Perhaps he was too selfish. Near the end of your perfect run he had become more and more... possessive? Controlling?
He loved you... when he saw that look in your eyes, he begged you not to reset. He'll better himself. He's obsessed with you... don't throw this way.
However, Sans didn't get better. He got worse. When you noticed him lock you away in a room, away from everyone else, you reset the run in hopes it will fix things...
It doesn't.
The multiple times afterwards doesn't fix things either. Sans retains that odd anomalous behavior towards you. Why was he the only one that was wrong?
So you figure out there's only one way to try and fix things....
Sans can sense the change in atmosphere when you greet him in the Judgment Hall. He sees the knife in your hand, he sees the dust on your clothes. His smile falters... what were you hoping to accomplish?
Were you that scared to love him?
"Human... you-" Sans tries to say, sockets locking onto the tears in your eyes. What was he feeling? Fear? Sadness? Guilt?
He thought he made you happy... why do you treat him as though he's done something wrong?
"I need to fix things, Sans." You try to say, stepping forward. "I don't want this, neither do you, but you won't let me go."
"Let you go?" Sans echoes, sockets narrowing. "I love you so much you have no idea... why would I let you go?"
"You don't love me. None of what you've been doing is love." You seethe, but Sans can tell you're pained. "I'm going to end this... I haven't hurt that many... I can fix this if I just remove you."
"You don't want to do that." Sans sighs, a sadness in his tone. "You're just... scared. If you just abandon this run now, we can be happy again!"
Sans steps forward this time, watching as you back away with tears streaming down your face. Why won't you let him comfort you? This isn't you... why won't you let him love you now?
"It's okay for you to love me." Sans continues, stepping closer. "We can make things work. I'm... not mad. I'm not mad because this isn't you. Don't you remember when I made you happy?"
"You locked me away! You hurt my family and my friends! You wanted me all for yourself!" You counter, going to swing. Said swing of your blade misses and you see Sans vanish from your sight.
"And I'll do it again," Sans whispers in your ear, using his power to shove you against him. "Because we belong to each other. There's nothing to be scared of, you know I'll take care of you."
There's a deafening silence between you two. Your grip on the knife trembles and you try again. However, Sans moves and snatches your knife.
"You couldn't even do the whole Genocide Run." Sans hums. "You don't really want to hurt them or me, hm? Even after all those other runs?"
You stare at the skeleton as he holds your cheek. His grin is haunting and his eye flares blue. He oddly looks smug... but pleading.
"You still love me... I know you do." Sans whispers, pulling you in for a tight hug. "Just reset one more time... and we can make things just like they were before. You know you can't get rid of me... you know you need me."
His manipulation seems to have worked as you begin to sob into his hood. You've tried so hard to make things right. Yet it appears Sans will always haunt you... and he will always remain the same.
You can't get rid of him just as he said...
In the end, you'll always belong with Sans... just like you did before.
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MKX's Kung Lao an essay
Notes: I originally wrote this in youtube comment section and decided to post it here. Watch Cynical Warlock's Rewriting Kung Lao video, its super interesting.
Kung Lao seemed pretty badass in MKX, and I'm talking about the old man version that's not seen in the storymode. I first interpreted MKX version of Lao appeared more humble and secure, no longer needing to prove himself as Liu Kang's equal. He even gave me the impression that he could be a mentor figure, appearance wise, whereas Old Liu Kang didn't give me that same vibe. Also, Kung Lao has a special hat that he uses as a weapon... How does he not outshine Liu Kang?
We do see his hat origin in MK1, so we can assume that it's similar to the past timelines on why he uses it. With that being said, he's great at coming up with random weapons, and very effective ones too. In another timeline he might be a weapons specialist, maybe even a maker. He even has another version of the hat that looks like daggers have been glued onto it, which we see in the game (I think it was a variant), and that might have been his first hat before he made a perfected version.
I think if MKX had better writing, then Kung Lao could've been brought back from the dead (like Sub Zero, Scorpion & Jax) and become another mentor figure to the combat kids instead of just being another yes man revenant who obey's revenant Liu Kang.
Both Liu Kang and Kung Lao were playable in MKX, they could've at least brought one of them back. Since they made Liu Kang king of the Neatherrealm, it would have to be Kung Lao.
Just as Sub Zero has a sort of friendship with Johnny, Kung Lao could be the same, separating him from Liu Kang on who they keep close to them. Personality wise, he's less harsh and strict than Liu Kang, and is more friendly, so I can picture him and Johnny having a friendship.
He can teach the combat kids that weapons can be formed from anything, basically ensuring that no one becomes a copy paste of their parents (Cassie & Jacqui), and has something unique about them, like having knives in their shoes and doing capoeira to cut the opponent or something (idk).
Just like Johnny, he isn't treated or spoken to very nicely by Sonya and some others because they keep mistaking his current self to his past self. He doesn't like it when people do this (I certainly wouldn't), but he is mostly civil with cutting remarks every now and then. Think of it as visiting a toxic family you've been in low contact with, and they occasionally make jokes and jabs about you copying your golden child sibling, and how you'll never be like them or escape their shadow. Even though you stand up for yourself, you're still seen as being bitter and jealous.
Another reason why I think Johnny and Kung Lao have a shot at friendship is because Johnny doesn't mention Liu Kang once, or anything linked to the past, or even his personality. Kung Lao is also said to "smile too much" according to Ferra, meaning he has a tendency to smile when he's about to face off with an opponent. Remind you of someone we know?
Here's how he can be introduced: The combat kids have a mission, however, the combat kids cannot go with weapons, at least weapons that are seen. In this au Johnny is with the Wu Shi instead of the Special Forces (as seen in my Havik post), so he sends the combat kids (mainly Cassie and Jacqui) to meet Kung Lao. The combat kids find out that Kung Lao, while still maintaining his teachings, has left the Shaolin and works as a weapons maker in some random town or city in China, and lives in solitude (a metaphor for no longer seeking the validation of others). Instead of giving the weapons straight up, he tests every single one of them. He ends up letting them have the weapons of course, and watches them go on their day.
MK11 made him so cocky to the point he was a Johnny Cage clone, and Kung Lao never struck me as the cocky type during MK9. It was actually Liu Kang that came off as egotistical to me, and the fact that he rebels against Raiden kind of proves that. Liu Kang went against a literal god. There's even an ending that shows he will be corrupt if he replaced Raiden. Earthrealm's champion, ladies and gentlemen.
I never viewed Kung Lao as cocky, so his MK11 version was a complete 180, and the fact that NRS continued that into MK1 disappointed me. Kung Lao is impulsive, but not always. He is capable of being reserved and calculating. While Kung Lao is also quite ruthless, Liu Kang is the hot headed one that refuses to listen to reason at times.
People make all kinds of jokes about Kung Lao and him getting his neck snapped, when Shao Kahn went about it cowardly. I'll elaborate by saying Shao Kahn snuck up on him, it wasn't face to face. In the words of Kendrick Lamar, "when I catch flight, it's gon' be direct". Shao Kahn is Drake in this situation, sneak dissing. When people make fun of Kung Lao's neck snap they're technically meat riding Shao Kahn.
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Last Sprout Dev Diary - Jan 10, 2025
Hello, and welcome to the new year! After the break, I'm here for another dev diary - this one being a bit more about something conceptual. If you want to read the last dev diary from December, you can do so here.
If this is the first one you're reading, I'm @oneominousvalbatross, and I'm the tech side of the sprout team! This week I mostly worked on status effects, but I want to take some time to talk about a broader, more conceptual topic, and save the full breakdown for next week.
My poor boy, who has every disease.
Something I don't think I've really specified before in these dev diaries is my background in game dev, or, rather, my lack of background. I started seriously learning how to code a bit over a year ago, and entered my first game jam in February of 2024.
(The game was barely functional, but it did exist so like, there's something.)
My academic background is in philosophy (simultaneously the best and worst thing tbh), and apart from being pretty good with computers in a broad sense I didn't really have much to go on for this project. I'm bringing this up because I'm going to be talking about something that I had to figure out for myself, but that might be like, compsci 105 or something if you went through school for it. That said though, if you have always kind of wanted to make games, you can absolutely make games! I didn't think I was a math person, or a coding person, until I started doing it.
Game Development is Hard
I'm going to assume that software development in general is hard, but I haven't really done that, so I'm talking about game dev. I spent around two weeks not touching the game, and when I came back, the first thing I noticed was just how hard it was to get my head back around something with this many systems! This was also something I ran headlong into when working on that game jam, I reached a point in like, a week where I couldn't touch any system without potentially breaking every other system.
The solution I use, and the reason why I could come back to this without completely losing my mind, is to reduce the number of access points into a system to the absolute bare minimum. For example, we can look at the animation system. It's really complicated! It needs to be able to swap the sprites out on a variety of different renderers, it needs to be able to adjust animation speeds, control shader parameters, and it needs to be able to queue up multiple animations in sequence, plus it needs to send out events on animation end so that I can use them to time up other game actions.
If I was to condense all of this into a few sentences: A system can be as complicated as it needs to be, but try to envision it in its own little box, with precisely one entrance/exit. If you need to spawn a projectile, you should really just be able to go, like, SpawnProjectile(projectile), with as little external work as possible. This means if you need to completely rewrite how spawning projectiles works, you can do that, and all the other classes that spawn projectiles can still just do their thing.
A helpful diagram
The way I would've done this originally would have been to have, like, a SpriteAnimator class with a 'speed' field. I'd set it to one by default, and then whenever I need that speed to be different, I'd have whatever object needs to change the speed go in and set the speed to whatever. If you've done a lot of programming, you probably immediately realized the tons of problems this could cause - problems into which I ran headlong.
What do you do when you want one animation to play at a certain speed, then go back to the previous speed when it's done? If you do, do you assume that the speed was set to 1 before, and just reset it, or do you have one of the two objects involved store the previous speed to go back to it? If you do, what happens if, halfway through an animation, another object butts in to adjust the speed again? Say you're playing an animation at half speed, and then a speed buff gets applied that's supposed to last for a minute. Your speed buff goes in, sets the faster speed, the animation suddenly starts playing faster, then when the animation is finished, the object that was waiting to reset the speed goes back in and sets the speed to 1, leaving the animation playing at the default speed when it's supposed to be faster.
These kinds of problems will always be a risk, but in my specific case I split the speed at which an animation plays out into three places. First of all, an animation has a frame rate, which is meant to never change. We do most of our animating at 12 fps (on twos, I think is what you call it in the traditional animation world? idk, not a 2d animator), and each animation object keeps track of its frame delta (1 / frame rate) so that the controller can progress through the frames at the right speed.
However, we don't submit the animation to the controller in its unaltered form. Instead, we have a data structure called a PlayableAnimation. This contains the animation itself, but it also has the speed at which the animation should be played, as well as some other useful info that might change between two instances of the same animation. A controller maintains a stack of playable animations and can look at the individual speed of each one as it progresses through.
On top of that, there's a final speed modifier that can be submitted along with the playable animation, without changing its values. This way, if I want to play an animation at double speed for whatever reason, I don't necessarily have to set the value for the entire controller, I can just say this animation should be faster, and nothing else. Some animations have different frame rates, or are re-used with different speeds for different purposes, and I can do all that configuration without having to put all that weight on one field.
All of this sounds wildly complicated, and it kind of is, but importantly, if you're playing an animation from any other system, all you do is type in "Controller.PlayAnimation(animation)". You can also go like, "Controller.PlayAnimation(animation, speed: 1.5)" if you want it to play faster, but all of that stuff is handled completely without additional input. This is what lets me come back to the game and keep working on it when it's been months since I've touched a part of it.
Why This is Relevant Right Now
Status effects seem simple, but they kind of need to touch every other system at least a little bit, which is why I spent all that time talking about making systems. A status effect needs to be able to do things like apply damage, but it also needs to be able to play animations or sounds, and it doesn't always want to play those things on the source of the effect.
Some demos for the animations different status effects will use.
Plus, this is a roguelite, so we need to be able to add and modify status effect stuff within the upgrade system, which might mean modifying the magnitude of the effect, changing colors on animations, or tying other things into the effect when it goes off! As long as each of those systems has the cleanest possible entry/exit points, this is doable, but it's been a long battle making sure the game can keep moving forward and not get mired in constant bugfixing and complexity management.
I have a lot of cool game design thoughts on the effects themselves, but I think I'll leave that for a later week. As per usual, thanks for reading, feel free to send any questions or thoughts here or to @oneominousvalbatross, and I'll see you next week!
#indie game#dev diary#game dev#Last Sprout#last sprout: a seedling of hope#game development#game dev blog#game dev update#roguelite
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Break - Part I
Book: The Royal Romance Pairing: Liam Rys x MC (Jade) Rating: M Word count: 2124 Reading time: ~8min Summary: After dinner in Fydelia, Liam sent a message to Jade asking her to meet him so he explain why he didn't stood up for her and chose Madeleine to be fiancee. But neither of them were ready to face the outcome of their conversation. Based on the prompt: @kingliamappreciationweek day 4: Relationships
Author's note:
Jade Bourbon is a creation of this author. The other characters belong to Pixelberry Studios;
This year's KLAW brought me back to the days I wrote incessantly about Liam, so I decided to revisit some old fics and revamp them. This piece was originally part of Coming Back With a Bang, but because I've been frustrated with book two scene in the balcony with Liam since 2018 and my attempt to write a fix-it fic then lacked emotion, I'm rewriting it and hoping this time I can do justice to Jade and show how she felt;
There may be some lines from canon in here. I just don't know which ones 😅
Thanks to @lizzybeth1986 and @sazanes for hosting KLAW again. I don't know if a rewritten fic will be accepted, but regardless it is or not, thank you for once again inspiring me with prompts to write Liam.
While Maxwell waited outside the ladies room, Jade looked at herself in the mirror and heaved a sigh. She was a mess. Sure, she could fix her makeup and go back out there. But what for? Watching Madeleine snaking her hands over him? For more people to tell her how she became a pariah in the kingdom and should just leave? What was the point of all this anyway?
Turning on the sink, she washed her hands and placed them on the back of her neck to freshen up. She was still resolute not to give up. But for the night, she had enough.
As she walked out of the ladies room, Maxwell stood up from the settee with his usual encouraging smile.
"You seem better."
"Thanks..." She simpered. "Can I go back to my room now? We congratulated the happy couple, toasted, dined on their honor and blah blah blah..." Jade gesticulated as she twisted her lips in annoyance.
"Sure. I think the staff already has it cleaned. I'm kinda beat too."
"Let's go then."
Lacing arms with her friend, Jade and Maxwell walked towards the grand staircase.
"Wait, we don't have to go back and say goodnight to them, do we?" Jade made a face.
"Nah... It's okay. It's been a long day for all of us."
"Tell me about it..."
A soft knock on the door echoed in the room, waking Jade up. She had no idea how much time had passed or who could be knocking on her door right now.
After getting out of bed and taking a quick look in the mirror, she reached for a robe and answered the door.
"Hey you!” Her eyes soften at the sight of Maxwell. “What’s with the flowers?”
“Special delivery!” Maxwell beamed as he walked in carrying a huge red roses arrangement. “Housekeeping sent over a new centerpiece for your end table.”
"Now?"
"The staff apologized for sending it so late, but they thought it'd be nice for you to wake up and see the flowers."
"Aw, it really is nice..." She smiled, burying her nose on the centerpiece to smell the roses when she noticed a small envelope wrapped around one of the stems.
Opening the envelope, she picked up the note inside and her eyes rose in surprise.
“Oh, that’s Liam’s handwriting," Maxwell prompted.
"I wouldn't blame you if you're furious with me, but please meet me so I can at least explain. I'll be on the balcony outside my room in twenty minutes." - L.
As if pulled by a magnet, Jade walked outside to search for Liam's balcony.
Maxwell picked the note from the floor, read it while following Jade outside. "You're thinking about it, aren't you?"
"I shouldn't..." Jade bit down her lip as her eyes began to water.
“Hey..." Maxwell approached her, placing his hand on her arm. "I cannot imagine how much it stung to see him with Madeleine. But Liam wouldn't send you this if he didn't think he owed you an explanation."
"Should I go?"
"You're my friend, but I'm also his friend and I kinda want to say 'hell yeah! Go get your man!'" Maxwell enthused, making her giggle, but immediately his features grew a bit serious. "I'm rooting for you two, but if you say it's too much for you right now, I'll get it."
Jade chewed on a nail.
“Whatever you decide, I'll support you. Don't forget to get some rest, okay?”
"Thanks, Max."
"Have a goodnight, Little Blossom." Maxwell said as he left the balcony and then left her room.
Alone once again, Jade mulled over Liam's note and remembered their encounter earlier. The way he gazed at her, complimenting her, kissing her hand as gentle and passionate as ever, his eyes searching for hers throughout the dinner...
Jade walked back into the room and searched for the nicest yet comfortable clothes she had in the closet. She needed to be ready to climb his balcony if necessary, but still look her best in case they end things. Maybe he did have an explanation. She just hoped it'd be a good one.
As soon as Jade stepped into the garden, her eyes darted to Liam's balcony. As one of his fingers idly ran on the rim of a nearly empty wine glass, Liam sat by himself, lost in thought. Ignoring her racing heart and dry mouth, she walked towards the pillar under his balcony and hoped she could not only climb it, but manage to tell him everything that was choked inside her.
“Jade!” Liam murmured in surprise as he rushed to help her get into his balcony.
Her feet barely had touched the ground when Liam swept her into his arms. His nose buried on her hair, tears fell down her cheeks as the inebriating scent of his cologne overtook her. It was so hard not to lose herself in his embrace. If there was any place she yearned to be again, it was certainly within his arms.
Yet, flashes of coronation night and the dinner earlier came to her, reminding her of her current situation. Reality always seemed to hit her as hard as a slap on the face.
After wiping her tears discreetly, Jade pulled away from his eyes and said, “You're engaged."
Liam swallowed hard and nodded.
"We need to talk."
“Yes, of course. It’s just…" Liam took a step closer, gazing into her eyes. "Damn, Lady Jade, how I’ve missed you.”
Jade averted her gaze for a moment to gather strength and say what she had to tell him. “Aren’t you going to ask me if it’s true?”
“No. I don’t need to ask to know it was a set up.”
“You knew?”
Her eyebrows rose as she tried to process what he said.
"You knew?!" As she repeated, a wave of anger took over her. “Then why? Why did you let me go?" Her eyes glisten with tears again. "Why didn't you try to reach out to me? Why did I have to hide like a criminal if you knew I was the victim? Why did you have to choose… her?” Her lips quivered, her emotions taking the best of her as she cried again.
"Oh, Jade..." Liam whispered, pulling her back into his arms. "If only you knew how much I wanted to tell you that I believe you, that I always knew you'd never spoken more than a few words to Tariq because you were simply polite to him... But I couldn't."
Her hands balled into fists as she tried to push him away, yet Liam didn't let go. She continued, hitting his chest harder as hot tears streamed down her face.
And in spite of it all, Liam didn't pull away nor tried to defend himself. He simply continued to hold her as tight as he could. When she finally hugged him back, Liam kissed her forehead in adoration. He waited for as long as it took her for her to calm down then led her to the settee so they could talk.
"Why did you say you couldn't?"
"Though I knew it was set up because Drake told me about the broken lock on your door, I had no proof. No one knows where Tariq is, who could've told him to go to your room. Someone had gone to great lengths to frame you." A muscle in his jaw twitches. "If I chose you that night or tried to remain in touch with you or the Beaumonts, I might have put you in greater danger."
"Oh?"
"I haven't told you about my mother."
"You mentioned she died when you were young."
"The details of passing weren't disclosed to the press, but she was poisoned."
Jade's mouth fell open.
"We still don't know who caused my mother's death. And if that person is still out there, walking freely into the country estate that was built to be secure..." He shook his head. "I can't think about the possibility of losing you, Jade."
Jade chewed on a lip, not knowing what to say.
"I'll regret what I did at the Coronation for the rest of my life because it hurt you and I'm sorry that it happened as it did. But in that moment, the only thing that I could think of to keep you safe was to make whoever is behind this believe that they won. But I am so, so sorry... This must have been miserable for you."
Liam reached for her hand and kissed her knuckles.
"You could've called..." Jade murmured.
"I had to make it seem like I had no more ties with you. But I knew you were safe at Ramsford. Bertrand kept you distracted with etiquette, ballroom dancing and Cordonian history lessons."
Her eyes widened. "How do you know that?"
"Bertrand and I talked briefly through a secure line. I told him to cut you slack so you could have time to go jogging. I heard you were playing the piano sometimes..."
"He did keep you up to speed," she concluded, still annoyed.
"In case you were wondering, we only had short calls. If I had talked to you, I wouldn't be satisfied with a one minute call every now and then."
"Me neither..." Jade sighed. "Okay... I guess it makes sense. But I still have one question. Why her?"
"Madeleine is different from the other suitors. We never really got along, she doesn't care about that I feel nothing for her. I couldn't ask any of the other ladies to go through an arrangement like this. I wouldn't want to hurt anyone else's feelings."
"But you don't care about Madeleine?"
"You've had time to talk to her."
"Unfortunately... Is she awful with you too?"
"To put it mildly..." Liam made a face.
"I thought she was mean to us girls because we were competition."
"Perhaps it was, but in my opinion, that's Madeleine being herself."
"This arrangement you have with her…" Jade pressed her lips together, struggling to think about what she was going to ask. "Does it make me your mistress?”
“Hardly. You’re the woman I love. The only one.” Liam locked his fingers through hers. “I know this is not what any of us hoped for, but all I could think about at that moment was finding a way to keep you in my life.”
“Liam, I—" She shook her head. “This is a lot.”
“I know. But my hope is that it's all temporary. Just until we find whoever schemed against you. After all of this, if you still have me, our love won't have to be a secret.”
“But what if we can't find who did this?"
"I'll still be all yours even if I have to marry Madeleine. But if you don't want it, I..." He trailed off, then took a deep breath. "I won't stand on your way."
As tears welled up on her eyes once again, Liam went down one knee and cupped her cheek, wiping a tear with his thumb. “Stay."
"Liam..."
"I'm talking about tonight. Stay here. I need to see with my own eyes that you’ll be safe.”
Jade sobbed. This was too much. Becoming his mistress was a hard limit for her. Yet, how could she leave him if every part of being came alive under his gaze? Unable to find words to express what she felt, she just sat there and sobbed while Liam took a plce by her side again, pulling her close in his arms.
It was still dark when Jade woke up. Around her waist, one of Liam’s arms pressed her back against his chest. On the sleeve of his shirt, makeup stains. Signs of how much all of this has been tough on them.
She took a deep breath, taking in the scent of his aftershave lingering on the pillow, the warmth of his arm and chest protecting her. She knew deep inside he would do anything to shield her from insults, dirty looks and any threats. But it still was a lot for both of them.
“Liam,” she whispered, rubbing his hand.
He frowned a little before opening his eyes.
“Hey...” she turned to face him and gave him a weak smile.
Hey,” he said, stifling a yawn. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. I just have to go back to my room now.”
“Of course. Let me talk to the guards outside first.”
He then got out of the bed, ran a hand in an attempt to fix his tousled hair and opened the door. A couple of minutes later, he returned.
“You can take the hallway. None of the guards will ask questions. As far as they're concerned, you were never here,” he said, placing his hands inside his pockets.
“Thank you.”
Jade sat up, put her flats back on her feet and headed to the door.
“Jay...” he called, taking one of her hands before she reached the doorknob. “What about us? Will we be okay?”
“I hope so... But I need time to think. It’s a lot to process.”
Liam nodded, looking down at her hand as his thumb stroked her mother’s ring on her finger.
“Hey," she uttered, cupping his cheek gently. "We're not over. I just..."
"I know."
Before they could think about it, her arms wrapped his neck as his hands clenched on the back of her sweater. Would things change between them if they stayed away from each other? Would life give them another chance? They didn't know. But as far as anyone else knew, there was no way back for them.
#choices fanfic#the royal romance#king liam#liam x mc#kingliamappreciationweek#klaw day 4#lorirwritesfanfic#lorircreates
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Hi! Just wanted to say the latest chapter is lovely & amazing & sweet & had me smiling the whole time! I absolutely love your characterisation of everyone, especially Draco, so it was so so lovely to return to this world & to his thoughts!! with his best friend and crush at malfoy manor no less! All the yearning is already off to a great start hehe I am so excited for the rest of book 5!
Wanted to ask you how has it been for you to write this new book and volume? Has your writing process changed since when you’d first begun taking on a long form project like this?
& also are there any moments or surprises in this book that you’re especially excited about?
sending so much love & gratitude for you and your incredible works 💓
Thank you so much! This is really encouraging, I so appreciate it.
Inasmuch as I can use this metaphor without having kids myself, I sort of see each of the books as a different child. The first one flew out in basically a few weeks of very intensive writing, and it was a total dream — plot, pacing, symbolism, major beats, all fell into place basically without effort. The character stuff was the hardest, as I've written about before, but even then, the glorious part of writing beginnings is it's the most energy you'll ever have for a project, so the lows were pretty soft lows. Book 2, in contrast, I had to drag kicking and screaming by its ankle from under the bottommost mattress of my brain. It's one of my least favorite books (tone problem; COS has killer plot/setting/ingredients for a YA novel, but it's stuck in the doldrums of Harry Potter's well-documented Early-Installment Weirdness, before Cedric Diggory slams the gas and upshifts the whole series into its correct age bracket). More specifically, once I'd gone through and picked out everything in the book that happened because of Lucius, I didn't have a plot — hey alexa how do you rewrite Chamber of Secrets when We Got No Fucking Chamber Of Secrets — and oh by the way, even if you want to do a moody tone/political setup book, remember that your protagonists are still twelve, so if you go too dark or too intense, you'll risk torpedoing your readers' suspension of disbelief. Good luck, Charlie.
Book 3 felt the most like its own novel, if that makes sense? It's the last truly feel-good book of the series; it's a great stand-alone mystery novel with relatively low stakes. Plus you get a bunch of the big series icons: patronuses, dementors, werewolves, Hogsmeade, the Marauders' Map, and time turners arithmancy. It just felt like a good old-fashioned motherfucking romp of a mystery/adventure story, before any of the complex character work and major stakes of the late books come in.
Book 4 was the most fun I've had writing anything maybe ever. I don't even know what it was. Maybe the tournament arc, honestly? Love me a tournament arc. But in any case, I opened every new chapter feeling a tingle of excitement for what I was gonna get to do. Oh, and the romance started, finally, Jesus God (if it feels like a slow burn reading, just imagine what it felt like writing it, when everything takes ten times as long, and you have to figure out how to word the fucker.)
Book 5, in contrast, has felt much less like that tingle of "here we go!" and more like "oh, man, this is gonna be cool." Because this is the arc of the story that composed the original idea for Lionheart, literally years ago, and to be honest, I didn't think I'd get this far! If you'd asked me "do you know that it's going to take you 500,000 words of backstory before you can start writing that concept you're thinking about, and you're going to do it anyway?" I would have said: "absolutely not, strange mind-reader!" But like... I'm here! Finally! And it's... real now? Like, this isn't just a bunch of clips of scenes in my head anymore! That's rad!
That being said, it's definitely been slower than Book 4, because I kept switching back to my outline document to make sure that certain things were set up properly, and that I hadn't lost any of the plot threads or forgotten a minor beat that was vitally important for the story three chapters later. And I had a minor crisis about three months ago when I ripped out about 8 chapters in the first third of the book — basically everything from September to December — because I'd done a readthrough to check pacing (big mistake! never edit while drafting, that's satan talking) and realized I had a missing storyline. Like, there was a whole layer of the story that was just. Missing. Not there. And the existing text really couldn't fit another thread, so instead of taking weeks to pore through and try to sift out what I could save, I needed to factory reset and start over. And I didn't want to! I vividly remember sitting there with my head in my hands, trying not to weep, because I'd decimated 90,000 words of work in a single edit. But it had to be done. Because the story wasn't going to work. And now (hopefully) it will.
And of course, there's still that sense of excitement and exhilaration from before. Always. But whereas Book 4 felt like a delicious chocolate pudding, Book 5 is a medium-rare steak.
(Book 6, so far, is four shots of espresso and a whiskey chaser. FWIW.)
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20 questions for fic writers
How many works do you have on A03? 25
What's your total word count? 454 434 words
What fandoms do you write for? Supernatural. My first english fics were about Teen Wolf. Before that, I wrote in french about House MD and Stargate Sg1.
Top 5 fics by kudos:
Baby One More Time (sterek): 4 142 kudos
Carry You Home (sterek): 2 157 kudos
Fancy and the Tramp (destiel): 1 147 kudos
But she's the Devil in Disguise (sterek): 1 030 kudos
Grace my Soul (destiel): 891 kudos
Do you respond to comments?
Not all of them. Mostly because sometimes I'm not sure how to respond and feel ridiculous saying the same thing again and again. I appreciate them all though. They all make me so happy and I'm grateful to those who takes the time to leave one. They always make my day.
What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Like Clipped Petunias (destiel). This is my darkest fic. I've had people telling me they had PTSD from it. The end is really angsty and horrifying. It was not supposed to end this way, but this is where the story took me. In the end, I think it fits.
What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Grace my Soul (destiel) comes to mind. Baby Jimmy is such a delight and the last chapter of that fic is my favorite one.
Do you get hate on fics?
I don't remember ever getting any. I did have a few problems with people stealing my stories or posting them elsewhere. In the past, I also had a few stalkers/stans sending messages that creeped me out (especially for my french fics).
Do you write smut?
Yes! I didn't used to for Teen Wolf, but I've realized that fic with a higher rating tends to get more views (which I get because I rarely read pg13 or under myself), so I started writing it. I both love and hate writing those parts. It always feels kind of awkward to share those imageries, I'm never sure what words to use or how far I should go.
Craziest crossover?
I have a WIP that was a Psych/Teen Wolf crossover.
Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Yes. More than once. I've had a few cases of people putting their own name on my stories, but mostly people repost it without my consent on other websites such as wattpad. Ao3 is the only place I post, so if you see one of my story elsewhere, it's been stolen. Please warn me if you do.
Have you ever had a fic translated?
Yes! It's such an amazing thing to think about! I have had translations in spanish, russian and chinese.
Have you ever co-written a fic before?
Once or twice. To be honest, I think I'm too OCD for it to work, I want it exactly as I want it lol. Help from betareaders is precious though, sometimes they write a couple paragraphs for me, or help me reformulate some things better, or just brainstorm the stoyline with me and give me brillant ideas. Fics are always better with some help.
All-time favorite ship? Destiel forever bb
What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
Frozen Inside (sterek) is the only WIP I've ever posted. I feel terribly guilty about it because it's been more than half a decade now and people are still asking me for a sequel. Sometimes I read it over and try, but it's just...done. Thankfully, the last chapter could be taken as a end. Kind of. God, I feel awful and I'm so sorry.
I also have tons of unpublished wip that are nearly over. I wish I'll be able to end them, because there are some stories I really really like.
What are your writing strengths?
Hyperfocus. My best stories come out that way. I'll write fifty thousand words in two days or not at all. Sadly, I can't control it. Inspiration also tend to come at the exact moment I can't possibly write, which is sooo frustrating.
What are your writing weaknesses?
Description and world building. I tend to focus too much on the action and dialogues, but forget to tell about where they are and when. I let readers fill the blank way too often, which is something I really need to work on. I've been trying to rewrite some of my fics into original stories and that made it very obvious to me.
Thoughts on dialogue in another language?
It depends. Sometimes the translation is in the end note and it can put me out of the story, especially if it's an important part of the dialogue. If it's just a few words or if it's done in a way you understand it anyway, it can be beautiful!
First fandom you ever wrote in? Stargate SG1.
Favorite fic you've written?
The Guy Next Door (destiel), I think. I laughed, I cried, I squealed, I facepalmed. I must have looked like a maniac writing that story. Castiel was very fun to write for that one. Dean...I wanted to slap Dean so many times while I wrote. I had no control over him, I swear, he kept on being an idiot and made me scream at my screen.
I was surprised earlier, that this fic is not in the top five stories because it's one of my personal favorite.
This exercise was very fun to do. I won't tag anyone, if you feel like doing it, just do it, I'm curious to read about all of you!
#supernatural#destiel#dean/cas#destiel ao3#ao3#sterek#teen wolf#sterek ao3#writing#fanfics#fics#fic stuff#spn#dean/castiel#deancas
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HEY ive seen talk here & there about how EA!wyll is way different from how he is now. can you tell me what the rewrite changed about his character, im so so curious
AAAHHHHH YES. So okay. I tried to break this down into more digestible pieces and I'm working almost entirely off my memory so please forgive (and for anyone who's reading and knows better, feel free to correct) any errors.
Wyll's story - originally Wyll was a son of house Eltan (relatively minor noble house compared to Ravengard but still very well-known, they founded the Flaming Fists). He was sent to the Fists as punishment for stealing (this was seemingly where his strained relationship with his father began, rather than the pact with Mizora - which came later rather than him defending Baldur's Gate at seventeen). Apparently he didn't excel there because in addition to the disastrous goblin attack that led him to treating with Mizora in the first place, one of the Flaming Fists talks shit about him when you meet her, the gobbos call him Captain Failure, etc.
Wyll's personality - he was quicker to anger, especially as it concerned goblins. His whole vendetta was against goblins: they killed people, stole his eye (and were HOLDING ONTO IT IN THE CAMP) rather than him losing it during the battle with the Cult of the Dragon. He was ready and willing to torture the goblins at the windmill on the off chance that they had intel on the one that took his eye, and when you met Spike Wyll would tadpole into your brain with an eager LET'S KILL THEM. His Blade of Frontiers persona was just a little more obviously put-on, like he was clinging to it out of insecurity.
EA Wyll was more prone to puns and saying weird shit than even his final release self (which is saying something bc Wyll as he is now loves puns & whimsy & being a huge cheeseball).
Wyll's romance - EA Wyll was willing to get physical sooner, even though Mizora's presence cast a dark cloud on the romance. She'd interrupt your moment of intimacy using Wyll's sending stone (though it's a bit ambiguous whether it's actually her or Wyll's conflicted feelings toward her that makes him hesitate). You can tell he's sort of playing the suave hero during the scene - "may I kiss you?", "where were we?", leaning in and smirking, the whole bit. You basically had the choice to 1) fuck him so good he forgot all about Mizora or 2) hold him through the night and just make him feel safe and protected, which surprises and pleases him - "I'm used to being the hero. Not so used to needing one."
Mizora - she was kidnapped by goblins in EA and that was her whole rescue mission, rather than being spirited away to Moonrise. Wyll in final release explicitly states that he's never slept with Mizora - "I'm really not that kind of man" - but in EA there was some indication that their relationship was physical, that he wanted her despite himself.
#hope this helps!#tackypies#asks#baldur's gate 3#wyll ravengard#early access#baldur's gate 3 early access
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Revisiting Wrap030 Disk Access

I have more ideas for projects than time or budget to work on them. Already this year I've gone completely through the design process for two new large homebrew projects that are currently too large for my project budget, plus a few small ones I never got around to ordering. So rather than spend more than I should taking on a new project, I decided to revisit an existing one.
It's been over a year since I last worked on the original Wrap030 project — my old stack-of-boards MC68030 system. Its current configuration includes the main board with CPU, ROM, RAM, UART, & glue logic; a hand-wired breakout board to add a second UART; a custom video output board; and a mezzanine board with FPU and provision for an IDE disk that is not yet working. It has been functional in this configuration since last February.
My goal for this project from the beginning was to build something capable of running a proper operating system, like Unix System V or Linux. To do that though, I'm going to need to get disk access working.
I had started on disk access, but didn't quite have it functional when I turned my focus to integrating all of boards into the single Wrap030-ATX motherboard. I had added IDE cycles to the CPLD on the mezzanine board, and had added a few rough drafts of disk functions to my ROM. I set the project aside when I realized my function for checking dish presence was reporting a disk was present when there wasn't one.
I have worked with IDE before — my original 68000 project had an IDE port on it. I had gotten that project to the point where I could read a sector of data from the disk, but never could wrap my head around how to actually navigate even a simple file system like FAT16. It was this code that I had adapted for Wrap030, so when it didn't work, I assumed it was a problem with my logic.
Turns out I had just inadvertently clobbered a register in the disk check function. The logic worked just fine. I was able to write a couple quick BASIC programs to read a sector of data and even run code from the boot sector.
My assembly function for reading data from disk however was still not working.
I tried rewriting it.
I tried rewriting it in C instead of assembly.
I tried again, and again, and again. I added delays and loops and print statements and everything I could think of. I scoured datasheets, read though all the different release versions of the ATA specification, ported code from other projects, looked at every example of reading from an IDE disk I could find.
No matter what I did, I always got the same result.

This did not make any sense. Reading from an IDE disk involves setting up the sector address, the number of sectors to transfer, sending a read command, and then reading the IDE data port 256 times per sector. Each time the data port is read, the disk will give another 16-bit word of data. But for some reason, all I was getting was the first word of data returned 256 times.
There is nothing in the specification to explain this.
I knew there was nothing wrong with my logic, because I could read the data just fine with my BASIC program or by manually poking the right addresses using the monitor. Maybe there was some edge case affecting timing when running in assembly, but even adding delay loops and print statements didn't have any effect.
I reached out for help. I got great feedback on my read functions and my timing and how IDE and CompactFlash cards worked, but still could not solve this problem.
But then @ZephyrZ80 noticed something —
I had shared my code and was explaining that I had added some extra NOP instructions to enforce minimum time between IDE access cycles in PIO-0 mode. At 25MHz with cache enabled, the 68030 can complete an instruction in as little as 80ns, so a few NOPs would ensure enough time elapsed between cycles.
With cache enabled.
… cache enabled.
… cache.
The 68030 has 256 bytes of data cache. My disk read function is running in a tight loop that only really hits a few addresses; not nearly enough to invalidate and flush the entire 256 bytes of cache. The CPU does have a cache inhibit signal to use with peripherals that return new data on subsequent access to the same address, but it turns out I was only asserting it when accessing the UART on the main board.
It's a simple enough hypothesis to test. When I initially added support in my ROM for enabling cache at startup, I included user functions for enabling and disabling cache.
… It was cache all along.
Now I need to add some way to inhibit cache while accessing the IDE port, and then I can move on to trying to use the disk for loading programs.
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Hello, I come from another social media where I've already posted this longer than a week ago. I'm not really active on my Tumblr because sometimes I forget I have it and I'm like "Wait... I forgot to post this on tumblr.."
So, I find the entire plot of slendytubbies to be kind of confusing. I feel like it is really fast paced, there's some unexplained parts of the story(doesn't help that it's not getting continued either) and some other things, so I've just been wanting to rewrite it.
For starters, I'm going to give my interpretation of shadow tubbie, because I do feel like he's an important character however we'll never be able to find out why. His story is based off of a theory I had on amino(💀) in 2021, where he's not really your enemy, more of a warning about the infection.
Anyways, here's my version of shadow tubbie! 🖤
Shadow Tubbie, instead of just being called "Shadow Tubbie" has been renamed to Scáth which fun fact, means "Shadow", "Shade" or "Phantom" in Irish. He's only referred to as "The Shadow" or "Nightmare" when being referred to in his infected form.
Due to his random appearance in game confusing me (and the fact that we don't get a continuation of the story) I wanted to make his involvement with Laa Laa and The Guardian make sense. I made it so that in my version of slendytubbies, he was originally supposed to be the main four's father/parental figure. (He also raised them with a character I made who will be introduced later)
Sadly, he only got to raise Tinky until he was ten and Laa Laa and Dipsy when they became three years old. (Po was just born when he became infected) Why? Well, the scientists that created the Teletubbies had become suspicious as they were working with Noo Noo to create dosages to start off the infection. Scáth became distasteful of the scientists and he started to become extremely overprotective of his children. The scientists didn't like this as Scáth would have more violent behaviors towards the scientists, and they knew this would influence his children.
Eventually, they forcefully seperated Scáth from Tinky, Laa Laa, and Dipsy to test their dosages on him, making Scáth the first victim of the infection. They wiped Tinky's memories of him as he was the oldest, and assumed that Laa Laa and Dipsy didn't need it as they were toddlers and probably wouldn't remember anyways. Unfortunately for them, Laa Laa had hyperthymesia so she had small glimpses of memories of Scáth. Once Scáth became Shadow Tubbie, he knew of this information. When Laa Laa was old enough, he started to send messages to her inside of her dreams. Laa Laa was frightened by his appearance and didn't like the environment of where her dreams were set, so Scáth tried so hard to be less menacing towards her. He has tried melting his legs to be less taller, playing fond memories of hers on his TV screen (on his stomach), helped her create her imaginary friend ghost girl so Laa Laa could get more used to the environment and be braver, etc. However, none of it worked and she still has constant nightmares. He wanted to warn her about the infection, however he could only communicate through glimpses of imagery.
After Scáth was seperated from them, they replaced him with The Guardian. Unfortunately, The Guardian wasn't allowed to be close to them, as they knew that if he was, he would've had a similar reaction to Scáth. Since he was already obedient towards the scientists, they made him observe the Teletubbies from a far distance inside of his secret lair. Scáth also knew this, so he decided to send warning signals towards The Guardian the same way with how he did with Laa Laa. The Guardian was more understanding, knowing something was wrong however, he was bit confused. This is why Scáth appears more frequently in Laa Laa's dreams instead of Guardian's, because The Guardian already has an idea on what's going on.
Scáth unfortunately doesn't recognize that his visions are mentally exhausting, as they serve more as a nightmare rather than a warning. Although, his images are frequent enough to send some form of a signal, as some of his images would also flash in morse code. The images that are meant to jump scare the players in the previous games are actually warnings sent by Scáth, telling the player (The Guardian) that infecteds are nearby.
Scáth has hope in The Guardian, so he sees through his eyes from time to time. Sometimes, Scáth makes the Guardian see a lot of images, signaling "Danger" or "Don't go here" but The Guardian is confused.
After Scáth became infected, the infection affected him in the most brutal way possible that he ceased to exist, causing him to be a thought form. He was powerful enough to create the dream realm, however, he can only exist there in his universe. Naturally, he isn't a violent creature and is usually pretty nice, however he will only attack when you've come into the dream realm uninvited, you were apart of creating the infection and or making it worse, or you are just in general a terrible person.
Although Scáth can exist as a physical life form, it is only in seperate universes. How does he access them? When people enter his dream realm, it opens up gateways to another dimension, which also makes the dimensions he accesses very limited. Once he enters said dimension, he returns to his first form, wanting to restart his life before it ended horribly. Unfortunately, he can be killed in said universe. And once that happens, he can never return to it again.
Scáth can be permanently killed in his universe, however it is extremely hard as the infection takes over his body whenever someone shows extreme amounts of violence against him in the dream world. (I.e multiplayer mode where you receive weapons) being killed in his universe also kills him in every single one he could enter and be normal in.
Since he was the first victim of the infection, it has kind of affected him differently. He still has a sense of himself, as most of the dosages he took were to put a virus inside of him, that morphed his body in ways to the point his own body deteriorated and turned him into a phantom of sorts.
Fun facts!!
His first and second form are 11'8, while his full shadow form (without his legs being removed) is 20 feet tall.
He can change the environment of the dream realm however he chooses it to be dark, as I made his infected form sensitive to light.
If you come into the dream realm uninvited, he will become violent. However, if you happen to be one of the people he invited into the dream realm before (or you're a child) he'll spare you.
He can't invite people into the dream realm from other universes, however people from said other universes can come in uninvited (which causes rifts in time)
Weirdly fun fact, Scáth's dream world has stopped the time and space continuum being interfered with in his universe.
He cannot return to his dreamworld until his physical form dies in the current world he's in, whether that would be due to natural causes, sickness, or murder.
He's a normal tubbie in his physical form. (Aside from the blatant void in his eye)
The void eye/his left eye can't close, neither can he see out of it.
He's 37! (Old man)
If he started to cry, the void in his eye will leak a black goo.
Thank you for taking the time to read my character concept for Shadow Tubbie! He's still a long way from being full fleshed out as I'm still working on his personality and story and still trying to rewrite some things, but that's it for now.
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Are you still open to writing snippets from AUs you plan to write in the future, or are you keeping asks about those for whenever you actually write the stories?
Yeah, I decided a while back that I was going to stop writing snippets for unpublished AUs, because nine times out of ten, I was completely rewriting them when it came time to put them into the fic. My stories always deviate from my original vision, sometimes a little and sometimes a ton. So I either can't find a place for the snippet, or it needs changes to make sense in context. That didn't seem like the best use of my limited creative energy lol, and sometimes I was feeling like I HAD to put a scene in because I had already done the work of writing it, even if it felt a bit forced.
But I have Google docs for each fic and any time I get an ask about one of them with an idea I want to include, I save it in the doc. I've used so many reader ideas in fics. So you're always welcome to send asks! I may totally use it down the line, and if I don't, then it's not necessarily because the idea wasn't great - just that it didn't end up fitting into the narrative.
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