#they should invent more alternatives to ''oh''

[ria-starstruck]

heheee funney pk and radiance interaction from drawpile with @foileadeux !!

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Supersons +1 prompt answer

If you asked Danny, 12 year old half-ghost hero of Amity Park, how half-life was going, he'd tell you things were mixed.

On the one hand, he had just spent the last three or four months in family/scientist/'this house is a death trap waiting to happen' therapy with Jazz, and by some miracle, it worked. He wasn't sure if this was some kind of dream as his parents poured over years upon years of research, crossing out lines, rewriting equations, and reevaulating everything they thought they knew about ghosts.

Was the shudders family therapy worth not going over how they'd like to dissect him? he's still not sure. The horror.

Not to mention the attention. Danny was sure he was going to throw up if his parents drag him away for more bonding time, only for a ghost to attack and for him to run off to transform. What made it worse was when the Fentons came barrelling out, guns blazing, alternating between getting mad that he'd interrupted their family time, and asking him questions about "Your suspicious spook culture, if you even have one you dangerous delusional delinquent!"

At least they were trying, but Danny was very much comfortable not spilling the beans on the whole half-ghost situation, thank you very much.

And that's why, when Dad proposed to take him to Gotham to show off their latest invention, he jumped at the chance. The home city of the Batman, one of the greatest heroes known to man (except for Martian Manhunter and Superman of course) and Dad promised to take him to Gotham Observatory too. Not to mention how much he wanted to get away from Jazz's smug looks of superiority. Gotham here he comes!

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

Damian Wayne scowled as he scanned the crowed of scientists with more smarts than sense. Really, a flying toilet seat. For what deviant?

"Maybe they're for people who can fly." Kent piped up beside him. Father had let the two of them run off together, and his company was mildly more appealing than being alone with his thoughts.

"Why would Superman ever need to relieve himself mid-air. I do not believe you would appreciate your father's rear end being on display for all the world to see."

"True." Jon hummed. His voice lowered to a whisper. "You think indecent exposure is what your dad meant by "scoping out any potential future villains?"

Damian gave Jon a flat look. The sooner this convention ended, the better.

The crowded shifted, and the mass of visitors pushed toward a certain corner, where a man large enough to rival Superman's build stood upon a podium, with a boy their age off to the side.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce to you the latest in FentonWorks' innovations, the Fenton Ghost Zone Radar, soon to revolutionise the study of ghosts!"

"I thought ghosts were a magic thing." Jon said. "You know, stuff Constantine and JLD deal with."

"They are."

"Mixing magic and science is like, like, oil and water. No way this guy's serious, is he?"

"His name is Jack Fenton. That's Daniel Fenton, his son." Damian pointed to the boy in question, looking like he'd seen this scene a hundred times before, but with that knowing glint that promised something deeper. "They're normally spotted alongside Jack's wife, Madeline. Widely regarded as quacks by the larger scientific community for chasing paper-thin theories about ghosts, they've nonetheless gained funding from the government. This is the first time they've left their base of operations in Amity Park for years."

"Woah, you know your stuff, Dami!"

Damian glared at the young Superboy in disguise. "I read the briefing files. Didn't you?"

Kent looked uncomfortable and looked away. "Uhh, maybe?"

"Typical."

"Well, if he's so crazy, then why'd your dad even let him in." Upon another scathing glare, Kent relented. "Oh right, the whole supervillain thing."

"Enough chatter. We'll zero in on the younger Fenton. I intend to squeeze him like a grape, and make Father proud."

"Dami maybe you should be a little nicer-" Only for Damian to march off without him.

Honestly, inane niceties were above someone of his status. Those things were Superboy's job, and if Daniel Fenton wouldn't crack, then Damian was itching to try a new torture technique.

@impyssadobsessions

[solxamber]

Hey there! This is just a request but could you please do an unhinged reader x Leona(romantic)? Like, menace to society, 0 self preservation skills with questionable morals that just keeps bugging Leona out of boredom.

I guess the genre would be crack and you can basically choose the details.

Thank you❤️

Leona Kingscholar x unhinged Reader

thank you for this, I had so much fun writing this <3

Leona wasn’t sure why the universe had cursed him like this. Of all the people in the world, why you? Why had you, a walking disaster with all the survival instincts of a toddler with scissors, decided to latch onto him? And why did he fall for you?

And it wasn’t even in a cute, lovesick-puppy way. No, you were like a chaotic gremlin that had crawled out of some alternate dimension just to make his life worse.

“Leona, watch this!” You stood precariously on the edge of a crumbling wall, grinning like you were about to unveil the world’s greatest invention.

Leona didn’t even bother lifting his head from his nap spot under the tree. He’d learned that reacting only made you more encouraged. “If you fall, I’m not catching you.”

“That’s fine, I’ll just bounce!” you chirped back.

Leona opened one eye, an eyebrow twitching in disbelief. “You’re not a ball.”

“Not with that attitude,” you shot back, then proceeded to leap from the wall like you had just discovered flight. Spoiler alert: you had not. Gravity, however, was very familiar with you.

You crashed to the ground in a flurry of limbs and dust, groaning dramatically.

Leona sighed and got up with the enthusiasm of a sloth being asked to run a marathon. “You good, or should I call someone with a stretcher?”

You waved him off from your spot on the ground, laughing despite the fact that you were very clearly in pain. “No worries! Just testing my limits. Next time, I’ll stick the landing.”

“There better not be a next time.” Leona rubbed his temples, wondering how his life had come to this. “You’ve got the brain of a rock, y’know that?”

“Rocks are strong!” you shot back, scrambling to your feet, dusting yourself off like you hadn’t just risked spinal damage for absolutely no reason.

Leona turned to walk away, muttering, “Great. I’m babysitting a suicidal pebble.”

But, of course, you followed him. You always followed him. It was like you’d made it your life’s mission to annoy him into an early grave. He wasn’t sure if it was boredom, insanity, or both.

“Where are we going?” you asked, bounding beside him like some overexcited puppy.

“We’re not going anywhere. I’m going somewhere. You’re going away.”

“But that’s boring,” you whined, clearly oblivious to any and all social cues. “You’re so lazy! Don’t you ever want to do something exciting?”

Leona stopped dead in his tracks and turned to glare at you. “I don’t want to do anything exciting. Ever. I want to nap in peace, without you pulling some stupid stunt every five minutes.”

You shrugged, unbothered. “Sounds like quitter talk. What if I found us something really fun to do?”

Leona gave you a deadpan look. “Fun by your standards means I’ll either end up in jail or hospitalized. No thanks.”

You grinned mischievously. “What if I told you I’ve got a plan to steal all of the fancy food from the Mostro Lounge? No one would even know it was us!”

Leona stared at you, trying to figure out how you’d come to this conclusion with a straight face. “We literally live in a dorm with a kitchen. If you want fancy food, just ask.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” You waggled your eyebrows. “Come on, live a little! You’re a lion, aren’t you supposed to be all fierce and stuff? You should be excited to commit some petty crime.”

Leona pinched the bridge of his nose. “First of all, lions don’t do crime sprees. Second, stealing isn’t a hobby. And third, if you try something stupid, don’t expect me to bail you out.”

“Oh please,” you waved him off, smirking. “You’d totally bail me out. You love me.”

Leona narrowed his eyes at you, opening his mouth to argue, but then closed it. Damn it, you had a point. He would bail you out. Probably. Begrudgingly.

But he wasn’t going to admit that.

“I tolerate you,” he corrected, turning on his heel and continuing to walk away.

“Aww, that’s practically a love confession coming from you!” You sprinted after him, making ridiculous heart gestures in the air. “Leona Kingscholar, prince of sarcasm and naps, tolerates me. I’m honored.”

Leona groaned. He’d tried ignoring you, scaring you off, threatening you with bodily harm (all of which you’d laughed off). And somehow, despite his best efforts, you were still here. Still determined to bring chaos into his otherwise peaceful life.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed one day,” Leona muttered as you fell into step beside him again. “And I’m not dragging your body out of trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” You waved him off, clearly not listening. “So, what’s for dinner? And can I challenge Ruggie to a spoon duel?”

Leona sighed heavily. Why were you like this? And why, despite every instinct telling him to ditch you in the Savanna, did he kind of, sort of… not hate it?

Great. Now you were rotting his brain with your nonsense. Just what he needed.

At least life wasn’t boring anymore.

Masterlist

[carpenterswife]

HALF OF ME (iii)

SUMMARY: Spending years in a Russian lab as nothing more than an experiment does a lot to a man, even one as strong as Soldier Boy. Experiment after experiment after torture technique slowly chips away at his willpower. And, alongside the loss of his strength, comes his anger. His anger at the people who put him in here, the people he used to call his team; and his need for vengeance increases. 37 years after his capture, a group of 5 release him from his prison, and sets him and his rage free.

WORD COUNT: 1755

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI. Torture, human experimentation, inhumane treatment/practices, violence, gore, unethical treatment/practice, drug abuse.

MAIN MASTERLIST / SERIES MASTERLIST

If there was one thing Ben knew, it was that he wanted the fuck out of here. This cold, lonely, dark room the Russians had had him locked inside of for god knows how long. Between the torture, the Novichok, and the cryo, he’d lost count of the days.

Or the months… or years. Yeah, he really wasn’t sure anymore.

But another day brought more bullets shot into the back of his throat. And, honestly, he was more tired of the taste of metal than the feeling of his throat being ripped apart.

They could be more inventive with their torture techniques.

Injecting acid into his veins, pouring it down his throat, and setting him on fire was boring. Really. If he had more strength in his body, he’d mock them for their predictability. It was repetitive. How were they learning anything new when they did the same damn things every day?

He spent most of his days alternating between thinking of two things; how to kill these Russians, and how to kill Payback.

Because, oh yeah, was he going to rip that shitty excuse of a team apart by their limbs when he got out. Not if. When.

And he’d start with you.

The woman he’d been sleeping with in the lead-up to The Betrayal.

Sure, you weren’t at Nicaragua, but he had no doubt you’d opened your legs as some fucked up, psychological way to soften him up. Fucking whore. Sure, you were a good fuck, but his rage swallowed up any remaining softness he had for you. (Or hardness).

He was going to take great pleasure in squishing you like an annoying bug.

And then Crimson — honestly she was number two on his kill-list, simply because he didn’t really like her. She was a boring fuck, and totally used his ‘death’ as a PR stunt.

What was it with these bitches and manipulating him?

Every time he thought about it, he got more angry. More vengeful. He could feel the power draining from his bones every time they drugged him up on Novichok, and it only heightened his rage.

Right now, he was stuck here. But, when he got back, every single one of those fuckers were going to pay.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

He dreamed about you a lot.

Sometimes, as they poured acid down his throat, Ben imagined you. He clawed and begged breathlessly for mercy, becoming a weak, vulnerable mess at the hands of these men, and he thought of you.

He didn’t want you. You were the one who’d put him in here. But he couldn’t help it.

With your pretty face, sweet words and gentle touch; you’d been the first woman he’d loved.

Ben never thought he’d be capable of such an emotion. That love and emotional intimacy was far, far out of his reach. But, with you, it came easy. Being a dick to you felt more like teasing and playful remarks, rather than genuine hatred. And he’d never dared raise a hand to you like he did Gunpowder or Noir.

He hated himself for it. He should be angry. So, so fucking angry. He should spend his days wishing the worst on you.

Instead, he wished you were here. That you’d come and rescue him. That you’d hold him and whisper soothingly, your words sinking through his skin and to his heart, lighting up his nerves.

He’d never felt so alone before.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

So… apparently you couldn’t age.

It came as a shock as much to you as it did to Vought. They’d pulled you out of the spotlight when it’d become too obvious, when the media started to notice the lack of wrinkles for your age and had begun asking questions, and they’d ran some tests.

Turns out, your father was a moron. And the strain of Compound V the assholes at the hospital had given you, was the same strain they’d given Ben during the human trials in WW2. Fucking dickheads. Because now you were stuck on this godforsaken planet until you discovered something that could kill you.

You had no idea why they did that. But it was Vought. They always had some shady, unethical shit going on in the background. Turns out you were just another victim of that.

Hopefully the Russians had another one of those lasers they’d killed Ben with.

It’d been 15 years since that fateful day. 1999 had olled around, and Vought officially kicked you out of the business. They gave you the ‘Soldier Boy Plan’ — giving you a pretty house in the middle of god-knows-where, and telling the media you were dead.

You couldn’t complain, really. You’d befriended the local wildlife and spent your evenings watching the sunset over the trees. The years went by slowly, but they were far more peaceful than your life in Vought had been. Finally, you could just breathe.

And you watched the news, as Payback fell apart and were replaced by a new team, the Seven. Homelander seemed like a Soldier Boy 2.0 — same cockiness, same fake smiles and kindness. You were sure there was some shady shit going on with that team. (There always was with Vought).

It wasn’t your business. It was 2020, you hadn’t been a superhero in 21 years. Whatever bullshit was going on with Vought was in your distant past.

… And then Queen Maeve made it your business. On a quiet day in 2021.

Initially, when you opened the door to see the smug superhero in your doorway, you were half-tempted to just kill her right there. But, you held back. Your hand curled around the door, staring back at her. “What do you want?”

“I want to know everything you know about Soldier Boy.” She didn’t even look surprised you were alive.

You kind of just… stared. “Ben?” You echoed. That was the last thing you’d expected to come out of her mouth “You mean… the man who died 37 years ago? Why the fuck are you asking me about him?”

She shrugged. The corner of her lip tugged to a smirk. “You were fucking him.” Honestly, you had to give her some credit. She obviously did her research before coming here. Plus, she had some fucking balls just turning up out of the blue like this. You could rip her head clean off her shoulders if you wanted to.

Scoffing, you turned and walked away from the front door, inadvertently inviting the supe in. She followed you through your home, to the kitchen, where your first instinct was to grab a bottle of wine. “Why are you asking me about him?”

“We think—“

“Who’s we?” You cut in, grabbing two glasses.

Maeve stared for a moment. “A few friends.”

You scoffed, pouring the wine into the two glasses. “I’m going to need more than ‘friends’ if you want me to tell you anything about Ben.” With an unimpressed glare, you handed her a glass.

“We think whatever killed him, might be able to kill Homelander.” She didn’t give you the information you wanted, but it was better than nothing. And it’s what made you help.

So, you fetched her the files you’d gathered on Ben, in your 15 years of trying to figure out what happened to him. You wished her luck, hoping she found more than you did. You never found who the friends were, and why exactly they wanted Big-Man-Homelander dead, but you had a good guess.

Whatever.

Not your business.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

Ben came in and out of consciousness a lot. They’d rip into his muscles and his bones, or inject something into his bloodstream, and then they’d pump him full of Novichok again, until his muscles went weak and his eyes rolled back.

Fucking assholes. Finding one of the only things in this world that could do damage to him.

It made it difficult to keep track of time. Sometimes they kept him asleep for weeks, while they analysed results and came up with new techniques. Like a rat. It was dehumanising.

He was tired these days. Tired of being angry. Tired of being tired.

He missed home. He missed drugs. He missed his fame. He missed sex. He missed you. When’d he become such a weak pussy? He was a man, for fucks sake. Not a snivelling bitch. He could get through this. He could get out the other end. And he could kill you.

He was sure of it.

And, in 2021, only two weeks after you delivered the file to Maeve, a group of five landed in Russia, and set him free.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

Soldier Boy being alive was not on the itinerary. All their clues had lead them to Russia, where they’d expected to find a weapon… and instead found the man himself.

Hughie couldn’t quite believe his eyes, and Butcher was too busy rethinking their entire plan to really digest this all.

Really, there was a man in his 100’s snorting lines of bennies in front of them, making demands. They’d fetched him food, alcohol and drugs, with the hopes to calm him down and rationalise him. He took it all with no ‘thank you’, but seemed a bit more relaxed once the white powder went up his nose.

Relaxed enough to make a deal.

He wanted Payback dead, they wanted Homelander dead — they’d kill two birds with one stone. It was good enough for Butcher.

“Two’a your ol’ mates are dead.” Butcher spoke to the supe, who was drinking whiskey straight from the bottle. “I sorted Gunpowder.” (Ben hadn’t been impressed with that news). “And your ol’ girlfriend, Y/N—“

Now that caught his attention. “She’s dead?” Ben’s head lifted quickly, analytical eyes watching Butcher. His teeth ground together. He’d wanted to be the one to kill you. He’d dreamt of watching the life drain from your eyes. “How’d she kick it?”

“Vought never released those details.”

He allowed himself a smirk. Smart bitch. “Then she ain’t dead.” He slammed the hilt of his dagger into a few pills, crushing them into powder. “Shady fucks pulled that stunt hundreds’a times.”

Hughie sat a little straighter. This was fresh news. While they’d been searching for people to help find information on Soldier Boy, they’d suggested you. But, everything in history suggested you’d met the reaper in ‘99. “They faked her death?”

He nodded, sure of it, cutting the powder into lines. “Find her.” He demanded. His sharp glare cut into the pair of them. “I want her fuckin’ dead.”

a/n: sorry for the loooong ass wait on this chap. i rlly struggled to write this one + i’m currently sitting my a level exams. this chapter was more of a filler. the good stuff happens next chapter !!!

taglist: @onlyangel-444 @deans-spinster-witch @fumolemon @anundyingfidelity @mostlymarvelgirl @aaronhotchnerlover @delaynew @let-me-luve-you @yvonneeeee @livsh20 @thej2report @lostin-jensenseyes

@boywivlove @leavli @cassieriddle713 @drasticemotions

[letteredlettered]

Slow burn mutual pining

Slow burn pining fics are my favorite. Usually slow burn mutual pining (let's invent a new acronym: SBMP). The problem with SBMP is that it is so difficult to find a climax that satisfies me that I almost always end up not enjoying the fic after all. Like, it delivers but it doesn't satisfy.

Here are all the climaxes I hate, and keep in mind that this is about what I personally enjoy, not what I think is like, good writing or How You Should Do It or the paragon of excellence or anything. I am not telling anyone what they should be writing, and I am also not telling anyone what they should like reading. I simply like what I like and I hate what I dislike, so now you get to know because this is my blog and I do what I want, Thor.

Too short. These are the ones where A is like "I love you! I've loved you for years!" And then B is like "I've loved you for years!" And then they go have very loving sex or something. Listen. There has to be processing time; there needs to be that crying cat meme where the cat needs a minute; there needs to be wonder and disbelief and shock. There needs to be a numbness. And when B does finally 'fess up with their reciprocal angst or whatever it cannot just be "oh, ditto!"

Climax interruptus. Some authors know that the climax needs to be drawn out (to achieve my fic-reading satisfaction, which is obviously every writer's goal!) but can't figure out how to get there, so A is like "I love you! I've loved you for years!" and then the whole Bennett family falls into the room from where they've been listening at the door and there's a lot of dealing with Mrs. Bennett and Mary and Kitty or whoever, all while A is angsting about their confession and whether B loves them back, and B is waiting on tenterhooks just to tell them the feeling is reciprocated. Watch closely, folks, the worst perpetrators of this will do it several times. A says, "I love you!" Then is interrupted. Then finally gets a chance and is like, "I've loved you for years!" Then is interrupted. Then B finally gets their chance and is like "I have something to tell you too!" Then is interrupted. The worst, guys; this is the worst. (It happens with lots of big climaxes where the climax consists of confessions or supplying information or clearing up misunderstandings or Finding Something Out--mysteries do it All. The. Time.)

Moot climax. Subsection of the above that refers to an interruption being an entirely new plot. Basically, you get some kind of partial confession or revelation, but then something happens, but the something is so catastrophic or dramatic that the mains can’t possibly talk through it; they need to resolve this entirely new conflict first. And once that is resolved, the original conflict might even be a moot point, such that they no longer need to have feelings confessions because their feelings were revealed in an alternate way by the alternate plot. I had written this post a year ago and now I have returned and posted because I read one of these that made me so mad.

Trailing climax. Also subsection of climax interruptus. Trailing climax happens when there are several other confessions/revelations that are in fact related to the love confession/revelations. Ie, “I love you,” AND “I’m the masked bandit you had sex with,” AND “I’m your long lost childhood friend.” Sometimes it’s also just a series of things that really demand resolution, ie, “I love you,” AND “I’m afraid of sex but want to have it,” AND “you’re a bird and I’m a whale, so how can this work.” The thing about having multiple conflicts or required resolutions is that you can have several climaxes, but they still need to ascend to a jagged peak. What I often see in the “trailing climax” problem is that one resolution is reached and tension immediately plummets. The reader feels forced to continue reading to find out the resolutions to the other conflicts, but there is no longer the ramping tension up to a final conclusion; it’s more like we ended one story and now have to start a whole other one.

False trailing climax. This is a trailing climax in which the author portrays the other resolutions or confessions as very important, but they’re not, actually. We got the big, cathartic confession scene we needed and yet somehow the chapter still ends on a cliffhanger that makes you feel things suddenly aren’t resolved. This is often about sex. The author is portraying sex as the big climax yet to come when the actual climax was feelings.

Trailing climax narcolepsy. How many times have you read a climax where most things were kind of resolved but there are some loose ends and instead of dealing with them (or having sex) the characters suddenly decide they need to sleep? I always feel the author got tired of writing or fears long scenes and just needed to put a jump cut in because they otherwise didn’t know how to end the scene.

The climax that cried wolf. Okay here is what you get when someone takes my words about "disbelief" and "shock" and "numbness" too far. One of the biggest motivations for SBMP is either A or B or both going on with their constant, "oh, B could never love me!" and "oh, A doesn't even notice me; I'm so worthless . . ." Listen. Listen to me. I love that shit. I eat that shit with a spoon. I am so into it, you don't even know. But when A takes B by the shoulders and is like, "I love you! I've loved you for years!" it is A BRIDGE TOO FAR for B to just go ". . . they didn't mean it . . . they couldn't . . . how could they love me . . . it's not true . . ." After that, you've lost me, and some fics do that like eight times before getting to the part where B believes it. By then no matter how hot and intense and drawn-out you make the actual climax, it has lost all impact because it's happened 7 other times already (and I have already noped out of the fic unless I'm in that train wreck fugue state where I had to see how it ended).

Paint by numbers climax. Paint by numbers climaxes are satisfyingly long and, also satisfyingly, address every single issue and misunderstanding this couple ever had, and then after all of that--only after that--we paint the final numbers: kissing, then undressing, then sex. Let me count the ways I'm so desperately uninterested in this. First of all, the sex is not going to be interesting to me if there is no tension left in the thing. What do you think that I am in this mess for? If it was porn, I'd read a pwp, and if it was loving fluff, I certainly would not be reading SBPM!

But even worse than the boring sex is that, since the sex--and often even kissing--can only occur after all the confessions, it means the confessions are strangely . . . cerebral? Not physical. Sexless. Don't get me wrong. Please don't get me wrong. I love cerebral! I love not physical! I love sexless! Some of my very favorite fics that I have written, and also I will point out the one that is astronomically the most popular, is basically G rated! Fics don't have to have sex in them to be interested and I will beat that drum until my hands fall off!

But. But.

If your SBMP is about sexual tension; if it is about A constantly dreaming of nothing but having B's dick in them and constantly fapping away to thoughts of it or whatever, why would you exclude sex from the climax and only add it in the denoument? I ask you. And if sex wasn't part of the tension; if the sexual aspects were actually not what the pining was about, why do you have sex at all? Why not end with a kiss?

*

There you have it, decades' worth of frustration all in one post, folks.

[loveinhawkins]

Up until recent events, Eddie hasn’t really put much thought into flashlights—save for that time he had to take out the batteries in the T.V remote to get his to work, back when the power went wonky last summer.

But now? Oh, as soon as he’s through with this whole nightmare, Eddie’s gonna find out whichever saint invented the damn things and start a petition to get them a federal holiday. That’s gonna be his whole… raisin something, something—he thinks it’s French, Buckley will know.

Fucking wondrous creations.

… Okay, he might still be a little jittery.

So sue him. It’s either run with his increasingly stupid train of thought or have a thoroughly justified panic about—well, there’s just so much to choose from: the ash in the air, the apparently sentient vines on the ground, how it’s so fucking cold and dark—

Jesus H. Christ, calm down.

It’s not all that dark anyway—or at least, it’s not as dark as it could be. Steve’s lighting the way, flashlight in hand. Honestly, Eddie thinks he should get it preserved, like in one of those glass cabinets in museums, complete with a plaque: This bulb somehow survived a journey from the depths of a lake into an alternate dimension, and all for the low, low price of…

Well, Eddie doesn’t know how much it cost. He’ll workshop the whole plaque thing.

In his reverie, he stumbles carelessly, nearly pitching over right into Hive Mind territory.

“Ah, shit,” he whispers.

Steve’s hand must move because the light drifts over—ends up illuminating much more of Eddie’s path than Steve’s.

“Thanks,” Eddie says—glances sideways to find Steve already looking at him.

“Think I’m the one who should be thanking you,” Steve replies.

His hand flexes, as if he’d gone to twirl the flashlight before catching himself; Eddie has a very faint memory of Steve doing the same with pencils in class and fights a private smile.

“You gave me it,” Steve continues. “I would’ve just… gone right in without thinking.”

It’s said self-deprecatingly, but Eddie would argue that Steve’s impulsivity (his courage) is an admirable character trait, even if it sets his heart pounding.

His own problem is that he thinks too damn much, until the window of opportunity has almost been and gone.

He was the only one to hesitate before diving into the lake: he knows all too well how that could’ve made its way onto the increasingly long list of moments that haunt him.

He could’ve been too late, could’ve not found the Gate at all—and then, would only have been able to pathetically swim back to the kids and tell them that their heroes were gone.

The light skips onwards just a little, encourages Eddie to look up from his feet. He blinks a few times to try and adjust to the darkness looming ahead. There, the indistinct outline of trees, and he’s drawn back to a classroom again, to the soporific noise of chalk on a blackboard, to…

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

“The hell is that from?” Eddie wonders, and he doesn’t realise he’s also said the quote aloud until Steve speaks.

“S’a poem. Robert Frost.”

Eddie clicks his fingers. “See, that’s why you actually passed English.”

Steve rocks his hand back and forth, so-so.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Don’t play coy now, Harrington.”

“I’m not, I passed by the skin of my teeth, dude.” Steve looks into the distance as he walks, like he’s being drawn back to some place, too. “I was meant to, um, submit a portfolio thing, and I just… didn’t.”

“Like stories and shit?”

Steve smiles. “Mm-hmm, and shit. Poems, too.”

“So why didn’t you…?”

Steve just shrugs in reply so Eddie changes tack—rolls his eyes expansively, but only at himself.

“Fucking Frost. Ugh, why can I remember that shit now, but when a paper’s in front of me, it’s just…” Eddie mimes an explosion in the back of his head, gone.

“Well,” Steve says, chuckling, “if the, uh, lovely atmosphere of this place jogs your memory, we’ll make some time, get you to write an essay.” He grins at Eddie, teasing and charming in equal measure. “We’re nothing if not productive.”

“Sure, that’s one word for it.”

Joking aside, Eddie finds that the mention of school calms his heart somewhat: to think of the foreboding sights around him as part of a story. Maybe it’s a control thing, like his campaigns. Dress shit up, put a film on top, then you don’t have to look at it directly.

He suggests as such to Steve in a longwinded ramble, and gets a thoughtful look in response.

“Like the Shire? And Mordor?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Yeah, exactly.”

Steve nods slightly. The movement dislodges some particles in his hair—and yes, it helps, Eddie thinks, to believe it’s just freshly fallen snow.

“Yeah, that sorta never really worked for me?” Steve’s voice goes up at the end, almost apologetically, although for the life of him, Eddie can’t work out what he’s apologising for. “Like, when the kids ran with all the D&D stuff, the uh… analogy? Metaphor?”

Eddie gestures at himself with one hand, I failed English.

Steve laughs. “Yeah, whatever. Dustin and Lucas keep hashing that one out. Anyway, it didn’t exactly… help. Help me, I mean. Just made everything more…”

He sighs heavily.

Eddie thinks he understands. All his bullshit is just a veneer, after all: it doesn’t truly mask the fear.

“Hey, maybe you could give it a shot,” Steve adds. The light dances for a second, like he’s just barely resisted twirling the flashlight again.

“What?”

Steve smirks—juvenile, light-hearted, almost like he’s about to challenge Eddie at the school gym, like, bet you can’t make that shot from center court, Munson.

“You could write a poem. Make sense of…” Steve gestures around them.

“Harrington, as I keep reminding you, I failed English.”

“Yeah, so? I’ve heard Henderson go on about your campaigns, dude, s’not like they come from nothing.” Steve looks Eddie up and down in exaggerated scrutiny. “You look like the kinda guy who loves a theme.”

“Oh, really,” Eddie says flatly. He can’t hide his smile even if he tried.

“That’s what I thought, every time you’d come into class late: oh, here he is. The symbolism.”

“Jesus Christ, Harrington, shut up.” Eddie steps into Steve’s space just to shove him away (just to touch). He thinks that if he were to try his hand at poetry, it’d be horrendously self-indulgent—something about how he might not be the one holding a flashlight right now, but he’s certainly carrying a torch.

“I don’t work for free, Steve. You’ve gotta do one, too.”

“A poem for a poem, huh?” Steve says. “Sure. It’s a deal.”

And yeah, they might just be saying anything to pass the time. But Eddie chooses to believe otherwise; there’s still a pensive flicker in Steve’s eyes that makes him think he might just get lucky, that Steve might even dig up some old stuff from his abandoned portfolio.

It’s a nice thought—something to look forward to, at the end of all this.

He considers Steve, and even though he knows it’s not snow, he can’t help but turn the particles into flakes in his mind again, into something prettier, safe—almost as if Steve’s presence has softened the danger.

He wants to stop here, suddenly. Linger. It doesn’t make sense. But it feels like time is…

A gentle nudge—a warm elbow to his side.

“C’mon, daydreamer,” Steve says. “You can write down whatever you’re thinking later.”

Eddie snaps out of it with a breath of a chuckle, follows Steve’s light again. Keeps moving forward—past the ash, and the vines, and the trees.

The woods won’t be forever.

After all, he’s got promises to keep.

[victimsofyaoipoll]

Round 3

Propaganda Under Cut

Kairi

kairi is the third protagonist of the kingdom hearts series and the third member of the destiny trio, alongside fan favorites sora and riku. sora/riku shippers HATE kairi, and will go out of their way to discount her at every turn. the hate for her ranges from typical "she's a boring bitch" to fans of soriku making five-hour long video essays reassuring their fellow shippers that the big bad kairi won't show up in the next installment – to quote one video, "she's in a box. she's on the shelf. four walls, no door." kairi is the greatest bogeyman the soriku fandom has ever known, to the point where most of said video essays and fanon meta posts focus not on why sora and riku should get together, but rather on why they don't like kairi.

Literally has a 100+ page Google doc fan theory writing her out of the narrative and putting all of her (few) canonical accomplishments onto half of the popular m/m ship (soriku). Don't even get me started on how her memory was completely written out of the canon plot of re:coded. KH is a nightmare to explain so dude trust me she is THE victim of yaoi

She is so fundamental to the plot and themes and narratives of game and yet it is near impossible to find anything about her thats not ship bashing pre-mlm with the other two characters. I dont even care if she ends up with one of the main characters i just want fans to see her as a cool character to love or like, anything other than “annoying comphet girl.” You can write your mlm but pleaae stop inventing comphet where it doesnt exist. She does not even get to spend time with sora ever?? Why does everyone see her as a threat and a thing to destroy?? Let her have friends so help me

Misa Amane

she gets treated in-canon the way fandoms treat female characters that Threaten an m/m ship. it's like, "oh why don't you go sit in the corner and be pretty, misa, while the Men have intelligent conversation and pretend they aren't ten seconds from fucking each other, doesn't that sound nice?" it's infuriating. and MAYBE it's better now but i remember her getting treated the same way in fanfiction too, like we all need to do just as badly by our female secondary characters as fucking tsugumi ohba, but with the added insult of making her be alternately oblivious of the relationship between light and L or actively trying to sabotage it—incompetently, of course, because god forbid misa be allowed dignity or moments of cleverness.

she's one of the first characters I think of when I consider old school fandom misogyny. The annoying bitch and clingy crazy gf allegations were AFTER HER ASS. She's also a lot more intelligent than people gave her credit for, but most seem inclined to take the Very Biased word of our unreliable, narcissistic narrator and his homoerotic arch nemesis and claim that just because she's bubbly and into romance that she's also a complete moron. Which is blatantly untrue. Everyone was afraid of Misa girlbossing too hard. Killing people and devoting yourself to the deranged twink of your dreams even though you know he'll never love you back??? Having a hardcore goth aesthetic and being so Hot even literal Death Gods are into you?? God forbid women do ANYTHING!

Not only is she the victim of yaoi culture, she is the victim of early 2000s misogyny by an author that wanted to introduce a girl character because he knew his male rivals were getting too homoerotic. She is a goth bimbo icon who portrays what I think is one of the few callouts for stan culture and what parasocial relationships can do to both the stan and the idol. The fact that she is a toxic fan of Kira and also hot, funny, sociable is tragic in its own way, which I think the author did try to touch on but was too misogynistic too really get through. Of course, she was reduced to villain status by the fandom and anime alike because she got in the way of the supposed romance in their psychological horror anime.

[cosmicobubisi]

Cosmic's Whump vs Flufftober: Day 10

BLOW TO THE HEAD passing out from pain | "I can't think straight" / Bet, Game, Contest

"Explain to me more about this process of refrigeration."

Yuu and Malleus were taking another one of their nightly walks together, enjoying nothing but each other's company and the savory fall air.

Soon enough, snow would be on the ground. Any change to their walks could break the tenuous connection the two had managed to form in these short few months, despite the apparent intensity of emotions felt on both sides.

The two of them could talk for hours, and make long stretches of time feel like a mere handful of minutes with how engrossed the two of them could get in conversation. Instead of frequently exchanging commentary, however, as other duos might, their chats usually ended up with one of them talking and the other listening, enraptured.

They could be so alluring like that.

"Well, I dunno how much there is to it," said Yuu, as they transitioned from dirt to gravel. "It's a big cold box. You put food in it, and it lasts a lot longer than it normally would."

"Fascinating," mumbled Malleus, stroking his chin with an inquisitive brow. "You are truly understating the impact of such an invention. I imagine it must have revolutionized human existence, to be able to preserve food like that."

"You're right," conceded Yuu, "but you only asked about how it worked. Not about how I felt it had impacted the course of humanity."

"True. How do you feel it impacted the development of humans, then?"

"Do you guys have anything like it?" asked Yuu, answering his question with a question.

"Oh? Do you intend to dodge my question?"

"Not at all. But I don't know how to compare it to the alternative, and I wanna know if I can use you guys- the fae, I mean, as an example."

"Hmmm." Malleus had to give it a moment of thought.

"We have associated low temperatures with slower food decay," he explained slowly as the thoughts formed in his head. "We have enough food use for large, underground cellars at the palace, though I do not know if that is a commoner's item as well. I'll have to ask Sebek."

"That makes sense," said Yuu, nodding along. "I think I've heard of that in old houses."

"Of course, we also have magic," said Malleus. "Yes, now I remember. In recent times, someone's implemented frost runes on things like jars. Instead of using them to pickle, fresh fruit is placed inside to be stored for when it's out of season. But these are much smaller than what your refrigerators seem to be."

"Jar freezers sound pretty... nice. Less storage, but a lot more portable."

"They've been surprisingly controversial, though," mused Malleus, remembering some of the argument he'd heard made against them. "Some say it's not natural to have fruits like that so far out of their growing season. While I disagree, since those people like jam anyway, I do admit, it does impact the taste unpleasantly."

"You've got that right. Some stuff just never tastes right if you leave it in the fridge for longer than, like, an hour."

"Still, I think the idea has more merit than people want to give it. I find it quite cowardly of its detractors to simply dismiss it outright. Perhaps we could learn from you all, and figure out how you made refrigerated cuisine so palatable."

Yuu laughed, and Malleus, though he didn't fully understand what was funny, chuckled along.

"It took us a bit of practice, I'll say that. If the Briar Valley is as seasonal as I think, though, then fruit in the fridge isn't what you guys need."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, there..."

Malleus slowed his steps a bit just when Yuu did. They placed a palm to their head and let their eyes flutter shut.

"Is everything all right?" he inquired.

Yuu smiled up at them, though it didn't quite reach their eyes.

"Just fine," they insisted. "Anyways, I..."

This time, Yuu held their head with both hands, and their legs shook a bit as Yuu swayed in place.

"Something really seems to be wrong. We should rest," Malleus said.

"I said I'm fine," Yuu bit back, the sharp tang of bitterness tinging their words.

"I was only trying to help," said Malleus, letting childish hurt slip into his voice.

"I'm sorry," they said, sounding a lot more contrite and significantly more beat down. "I can't think straight."

Their eyes slid firmly shut, and Malleus was there to catch them before Yuu could even fall.

Malleus looked both ways, trying to see if anyone was watching him. Night Raven kept the streets nearest to the dorms well-lit, but rarely anyone came around.

That remained true tonight. Seeing no one to disturb him, Malleus hiked Yuu's legs over the crook of his elbow, and let their head loll against his shoulder.

Yuu had a nasty habit of overselling themselves and under-reporting their injuries. What's more, they found Malleus's concern patronizing.

He huffed, remembering their words.

They'd volunteered their services to Heartslabyul's Magift team, but had been brought down when one of their idiot players swung out behind himself and struck Yuu.

They'd gotten back up in the next moment, insisting it had just been a tap, and the pathetic excuse for a safety officer had shrugged it off.

Malleus was ready to blow smoke. He'd have Rosehearts's head for letting one of his own violate protocol so flagrantly.

He could see the sickness in their eyes, though. He and he alone was Yuu's protector, even if that meant protecting them from themselves.

There was no need to deliberate on it anymore. Yuu could recover in the safety of Diasomnia's walls, nestled in Malleus's protection.

Without another word, Malleus vanished, taking Yuu with him.

[stem-sister-scuffle]

STEM SISTER SCUFFLE: ROUND 1 MASHUP 5

Dr. Olivia Octavius (Spider-Man Into The Spiderverse) vs Ms. Frizzle (The Magic School Bus)

Dr. Olivia Octavius is a Quantum Physicist and Roboticist!

Ms. Frizzle is a Science Teacher!

Why you should vote for each contestant:

Dr. Olivia Octavius:

""If you stay in this dimension too long, your body’s going to disintegrate. Do you know how painful that would be, Peter Parker? You can’t imagine. And I, for one, can’t wait to watch." I love deranged evil women she is the character of all time to me"

"Dr. Olivia Octavius, also known as Doctor Octopus, is the secondary antagonist of Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. She's also known as 'Liz' by her friends, one of them being Peter Parker's aunt May. She is an evil scientist, CEO of the science research & development company known as Alchemax. She's the scientific advisor for The Kingpin's inventions to open up portals to other dimensions. She's an evil woman in STEM girlboss."

"feral :)"

"Oh I heard you like mad scientist girlies???"

"I know she’s evil but I love her shes so cool. Have you seen her. I support womens wrongs <3"

"MILF. Evil. What more does she need? wowza"

"shes not the best shes the worst and she owns it. milf i mean. who said that"

"I mean. just look at her. she has the robo arms, the awesome hair. also if I recall, she's also been in science educational videos for kids"

"Proves herself as a competent fighter able to take on multiple spider-men at once, plus rocks the mad scientist look"

"Successfully works as a kids' science show presenter while also being a supervillain and working on sketchy projects. Is an absolute dork about her work and about cool phenomena in a way that's really endearing right up until she threatens to lock someone up to slowly die so she can study the phenomenon that's killing them. Probably put bugs in the microwave as a kid to see what happens.

Yes she did get hit by a truck in the fight and disappear but I fully believe she lived and ended up in some other universe.

1. She's a supervillain, she's definitely been hit by a truck before. 2. Out of everyone fighting in there she's had the most experience with this sorr of thing. While missteps are possible she would be going into it with some idea of what the risks are and how to deal with them. 3. Isekai truck trope 4. If she did end up in another universe she would totally find a way to keep herself stable there. She's got science knowledge and robotic limbs built for crime. 5. I like her and I think it would be really funny.

Why did I make this part mostly ""no she isn't dead"". It'd still be funny even if she was dead tbh.

I cosplayed her once and that is irrelevant to the poll but idk. She's fun."

"it's so rare to have female mad scientists in media like her, she's a role model to girls who want to commit crimes against the spacetime continuum everywhere. she's very important"

"She's really cute, too bad about all the murder and stuff :/ Women's wrongs, amirite?👍"

"She has a "For Science!" attitude that makes most male mad scientist look sane and safety minded. I would gladly be her intern/minion. <3"

"is only here to do science for Nefarious Purposes. science without any regard for moral cost. idk i love that this character type gets to be a milf for once. we love to see an evilgirl winning"

"mad scientist lady. cool as hell hair. evil girlboss."

"She's evil. She's evil and I love her"

"Evil milf with giant robot arms that loves chaos."

"Mastered multiple disciplines, managed to break barriers between dimensions, which even in superhero realms is a bit impressive. STEM girlies should be allowed to go a little evil/feral/unhinged. as a treat."

"She is evil! She is sexy! She employs usage of soft robotics into her prosthetic tentacles, is the head scientist at Alchemax, and quite literally built a machine that creates a portal to alternate dimensions! Get you a girl that can both make educational science videos and also rip open a portal to alternate dimensions under dubious moral conditions."

"she's sooooooo cool"

"She is a girlboss she tried to make a portal and while she’s a villain she isn’t the Evillest out there… babygirl head scientist Her glasses are shaped like octagons :3"

Ms. Frizzle:

"*gestures at entire magic school bus series*"

"Embodies the true spirit of scientific discovery: barely-contained chaos."

"She is very knowledgeable about a wide variety of sciences, and uses that knowledge to further the educations of many people. Teachers deserve the world; they do so much for so little in return. (shout out to Mrs. Goates)"

"She loves science and loves teaching kids about science. I love her. Idk I saw she only had one submission and that made me sad so now im here submitting her"

"She is an icon and has cool earrings"

"SHE'S SO COOL!!! She's so smart and so fun and genuinely just an icon. ALSO she has a little lizard on her shoulder. I saw an ask abt the submissions for Ms. Frizzle and the sender was the only person who submitted her.. I couldn't let this go. ALSO one of my professors irl called herself the irl Frizzle and she's a doctor of biology so make of that what you will"

[black-queen-rising]

Me desperately trying to find this so-called "bias" it often feels like a solid two thirds of this fandom claim that the HotD producers/writers have towards Rhaenyra when literally every single change to other characters has fundamentally come from minimizing/obfuscating/or otherwise reducing her narrative and overall characterization and character.

Yes, I'm sure this woman who they have invented continual bad decisions, internalized misogyny, blatant disregard for the people closest to her, ineptitude, blindspots, and blatant, borderline unbelievable public disdain for in their adaptation of her character; who's background as a victim of child abuse, of continual misogynistic psychological and eventual physical violence, who's love of both other women and her own womanhood, infamy in her charm and popularity and continual attempts (and yes, often failures) to rise above the positions she was forced into they have also ERASED...is actually someone they're going out of their way to portray sympathetically?

Oh, but they favor her because...idk they haven't shown her being violently raped or repeatedly physically abused? Because you believe they actually think that making her seem like an idiot who never knows or thinks about what she's doing is somehow favorable?? Because it seems like ANY of these changes have actually endeared her to the fandom much less the show's general audience??? I literally cannot explain it most of the time, it baffles me.

I know I shouldn't be because why should any of us ever be shocked by misogyny in media anymore? By the portrayal of a woman for a mass-media (and heavily desired male) audience that's reductive and hollow?? But it's simply unreal to see how so many people somehow believe that this was done out of some sort of benevolence or favoritism. That so many people believe any of the changes made in the opposite direction of, and often active opposition to Rhaenyra's portrayal in Fire and Blood, were made out of some sort of desire to make her a tangibly more sympathetic or broadly understandable character, is something I'm not sure I'll ever be able to fully understand.

Except, of course, in the view that I really hope not everyone who says this sort of thing actually believes; that a self-confident woman who exercises her own agency is such an affront that even an unsympathetic, inconsistent, reductive, and idiotic cardboard cutout of a character is still a more respectable alternative.

[underforeversgrace]

wrong paper

DannyMay2023 Day 19: No Backspace Challenge

title: wrong paper

words: 665

Summary: Mr. Lancer gets an assignment from Danny that is not right.

DISCLAIMER: This is no backspace, no spell check, no auto capitalization, and no punctuation shortcuts. I'll probably provide a better copy later on because ya girl can't fucking spell. Or type. Or write. Some of the crossouts are my fuck ups. Some are for flavor. ...to hide all my fuck ups.

~~~~~~

Mr. Lancer streched tiredly, blinking sleep from his eyes as he pulled the next essay towards him. Not for the first time, he considered asking Ishiyama to allow him to o go over basic penmanship in class, how could absolutely none of these children write legibily? At least they were workingon a creative writing course so the papers were varied and interesting for once.

Eve i Or at least… some of them were. Thus far, Dash had written about a football star with superpowers, Paulina about marrying a superhero, Mickey wishing he was a superhero…

living in a town with an actual superhero probably influenced some of these papers, if Lncer had to take a stab in the dark.

The next paper he pulled ou was one with a lot of smurdged and crossed out text, no name a t the ti top. The hanwriting was familiar, at least. Mr. Fenton certainly had a… unique version of chicken scratch.

Lancer frowned at the paper as he began to read it. this… didn’t look like the ‘Write A Story’ assignment he’d assigned.

The sear words indicated as much, vulgar languageLancer had never heard Fenton use.

Man, I am so fuckingover this shit. Mr. Popular Asshat shoved me into a locker FOUR times today. I’m so ecsawus exhaush exhausted. I’ve shoved at least 15 ghosts back into the Zoe at Zone this week. It’s Wednesday. Wednesday!!! Skulker has come for my pelt four times alone. 

Oh I forgot the date - it’s Jan 23 26 2005.

honestly I should be working on my stupid paper for English class for Lancer. But what stoy could story can I possiblytell that isn’t less ridiculous than my actual life? or whatever the phrase is. My life is everal way too wild, more than anything I could imagine up.

Like… I’m a half dead teenager. I’ve been dead for nearly a year and no one’s noticed. I fight for my life everyday. I’m a superhero with a secret iedentity and best freind/sidekicks - though if I eevr called them sidekicks to their faces again I’m getting side-kicked in the face. I’ve even got extra bonus points! My parents want to dissect me, I’m failing school. Hell, I’ve even got an evil alternate timeline version of myself that caused the fucking end of the world.

The TV shows make it look so easy. so do th e comics. I’m so tired. I’m only 14, I’m not supposed to be atri sk atrisk at risk of getting murdered daily. Well, not this high of a risk. I don’t want to live like this. But if I stop fgihting, trying, I’ll be dead within a week.

It isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair and neither is death.

Still, might be a cool story idea.

A teenage slacker who gets electrocuted by his parents invention, dies, and get brought back halfway. Turns into a ghost and saves people while his human life seems to wither and die around him. Is constantly hunted and villified when he just wants to help.

Yeah. My life as Phantom would make a hell of a story, wouldn’t it?

Lancer stared at the paper in confusion. It certainly sounded like a wonderful fictttitious story… but somhow it didn’t seem like fiction. It seemed more like a journl entry.

Lancer turned to his computer, pulling up the local news website. It wasn’t hard to find an article about Phantom, he was in the top three stories.

PHANTOM SAVES 13 FROM OFFICE FIRE

Lancer studde studied the article, blowing up the picture of Phantom’s dace. Of Danny Phantom’s face. He opened up another screen, pulling up the student files (complete with pictures). He pulled up D. Fenton’s file, several alerts coming up about truancy, tardis, tardies, absences, missed assignments n fa and failing grades. Lancer enlarged the human boy’s photo and sat it side by side wth the one of Phantom.

Change the coloration… and these two were identical.

Oh no.

Ohno.

Oh no.

[desultory-novice]

Here's a probably bizarre one

Are you into Table Top RPGs? And if so what do you think a Kirby themed one would look like? In just broad strokes at least, not asking you to get in depth with all the numbers or something

I'm trying to actually make one along with a few friends of mine as a "little" group project, we're throwing out ideas, figuring stuff out and what not. Turns out making a proper TTRPG is difficult and requires a lot of thought.

I used to be! In my family, playing D&D (2nd edition!!) was like watching sports for other families! I dropped out of the hobby sometime in my teens, as I started to struggle more with roleplaying ^^; and though I've shown interest in the occasional system and even played in a handful of one-shots, a lot of my knowledge comes from overhearing stories from my siblings, who are still into it!

When I brought this concept up to my sister briefly, she mentioned something (and maybe it was spun off something legendary blogger Prokopetz had said) about trying to "twist" D&D into a system for telling stories it just wasn't keyed to tell! That you CAN do that, sure, but maybe it's not the most efficient way...?

Soooo...

...In that sense two TTRPGs that come to mind when I think about alternate ways you could do a Kirby game other than just "explore dungeon and kill monsters!" (...Note that these might not be perfect fits either, they're just ones I've heard about and caught my interest!)

Magica Logia, a Japanese-only RPG (sorry...! ^^;;) that was really popular on NicoDouga/NicoVideo that is mostly based around playing these magicians with true forms (O~ooh, Soul Forms, you say?) who go around solving magical incidents!

While there IS combat, most of it is about learning what is even going wrong and using your skills (which are more like "concepts" and all HIGHLY interpretable) to detect just WHO has been affected through roleplay scenes that play out in a turn based structure!

It was REALLY popular to do long videos of characters from various games and anime playing versions of themselves via Magica Logia and so I often think that it suits a variety of more story-based settings! (Like, a huge focus on the story of a session is finding out who has been POSSESSED by the evil forces this time and I hope you can see my vision for how well that would work for Kirby!)

Another that I'm slightly less familiar with but I've always wanted to learn more about is Ryuutama, which, to quote the main website, describes itself as "Miyazaki's Oregon Trail?!" XD

A huge focus of the game seems to be around "regular" seeming characters going to new places because they're filled with wanderlust (and Kirby IS a wanderer!) and managing the resources to get there! (How much food you have at any given time feels like it would be a natural fit forany Kirby TTRPG) 

I also like that the journey and the places you go seem to be decided on by the group as a whole, with everyone contributing something! It reminds me very much of how magical various places in Pop Star (or the rest of the Kirby-verse galaxy) can be! And I think that kind of inventiveness would be wonderful.

Do you really want Kirby and the gang to explore a re~gular old cave? If it's going to feel like Kirby, the cave ought to have... Oh, crystal stalagmites in the shape of ice cream! Or that reflect your image like funhouse mirrors! Or the ceiling is covered with moss that acts like glow-in-the-dark bedroom stars!

...Again, I haven't seen this one played before like I have with the other one so I'm mostly going off concepts I find appealing from the product page! It does make you think though!

-

As for ideas of my own, I'm split when it comes to character creation. Either everyone should be allowed to make their own "Kirby"/Puffball and you KEEP it to puffballs, or you pass on playing Kirby and let people choose from a variety of commonly returning ally races (Poppy, Simirror, Birdo, Dee, Chilly, Joe, etc...) The reason I would suggest going either all puffs or all non-puffs is because even though my ideal Kirby TTRPG is not amazingly battle heavy, I still think that would really cut down on any questions of POWER SCALING (my beloathed... :shiver:)

I think that creativity in the interpretation of game mechanics should be emphasized, and that smaller numbered dice would be better (D4s or D6s, a D10 at most??)

I can see stats being more akin to MOODS rather than like, physical prowess and how fast you are/magic potential etc? After all, Kirby is strong enough to tackle on otherworldly horrors...but the comics often depict him as being unable to when he is, say, [Tired] or [Hungry] so having to balance your player character's ~total health~ as opposed to just their HP might make things feel more Kirby-esque, as opposed to just a Kirby-themed D&D reskin! (Not that there's anything wrong with that, if that's where one's interest lies!)

Another thing from Ryuutama that I liked the sound of was each character having a key [Personal Item] that is important to them! Maybe it's not EVEN magical, maybe it's just...emotionally significant?! Maybe part of the goal of story creation can be discovering what ties these characters together through an exploration of their items! (Everyone declares theirs to the game master and the game master builds the adventure around that?)

Anyway, I think I've made my preferences for a "non-standard" style TTRPG here clear! Sorry if that wasn't your desired direction...!

-

But yes, good luck with you and your friend's project! I'm sure it IS a lot of work! I don't know how much progress you've made in the week it took me to get to this one, but I would love to hear more if you think you've narrowed in on your idea! And I'm sure a bunch of others here would be interested as well!

[kestalsblog]

What I Love In Writing

Lately, I've seen so many negative posts (including my own) circulating about things not to do in writing, "advice" about which words to avoid, which tropes are most annoying, etc., etc. No wonder writing is often seen as a discouraging avenue to explore. In response, I've decided to make a post about things I personally LOVE to see in other people's writing, things that make me want to read more and more.

Attention to physical details that are less commonly described in stories. Three of my personal favourites are descriptions of hands, necks, and shoulders, which are just as expressive as eyes and other facial features.

When writers stretch a word's known meaning in a way that feels new and off-kilter. It always surprises me and draws me in. I particularly like when a noun is made into an interesting new verb. For example, "His eyes lanterned the dim room." Even though it might not make immediate sense, it can evoke a variety of new readings and emotions based on the context. If the scene calls for it, invent your own vocabulary. Language is yours.

I personally love contrasts between emotional states and settings, like when a character is facing turmoil on a beautifully sunny day, or, alternatively, two characters expressing their love for each other in a place that's falling apart.

How wonderful is it when someone can pull off the present tense elegantly? That sense of immediacy is refreshing.

Lengthy sentences that cascade rhythmically and emotionally to the point that you reach the end of the sentence and think, "Oh my gosh, that was only one amazing sentence!"

I love when characters are raw and real and messy and complicated, when they feel like people I could meet in my everyday life. I love when good characters do bad things and bad characters do good things.

Metaphors and similes, especially ones I've never read before.

I like when ugly or unexpected things are described beautifully. There is a difference between romanticizing something ugly and acknowledging an ugly thing's attributes thoughtfully enough to illustrate it with the same care and passion as a universally accepted lovely thing.

Personally, and I've changed my mind on this one recently, but I think it's sweet when I can pick up on favourite words or phrases the author likes to return to now and again. I understand it can be repetitive at points, but it's also like discovering a secret, cherished thing I can share with the writer. It adds to the voice. (Side advice: give yourself the liberty to change your opinions and try again with writing techniques you previously disliked).

Emotion, emotion, emotion. I'm an emotional person, and I like emotional writing that always walks that line between "balanced" and "too much." Not necessarily in that everything feels exaggerated or out of proportion with the plot, but that I can sense the characters' emotional states at all times, and sometimes even the grammar or language can reflect that - shorter phrases for an abrupt feeling, elongated ones for drawn-out, languid moments. The world is gorgeous, and our feelings are gorgeous. Writing that can capture that sensitivity has an everlasting effect on me. Like I'm at a party and the lights are too bright, the music is too loud, there are too many people, but it's all a reminder that I'm a human being. We're alive.

There are many, many more aspects of writing I love, too many for me to name but these are just some of the first that came to my mind. Amid all the cautionary writing tips you read out there, I encourage you also to establish for yourself the good things you should do. The risk of perpetual don'ts is a perpetual blank page.

Do what you love, and love what you do, but above all else, do.

[sgiandubh]

Alternatives

We just spent an hour on the phone, Someone and I, trying to think of alternatives to the PR catastrophe I analyzed at length. We almost ended up shouting at each other, too (never mind, the silly cow/pretentious twat is part of the charm & dynamic). I wanted a male POV. A witty (you think I am intelligent? thank you, but meet Someone), sophisticated male tells us (in italics, I took notes, because I am an idiot, of course):

Savile Row. Not Patagonia ('he ain't no Ranulph Fiennes'). 'If he needs to get an Italian refresh: Rubinacci, in Milan'.

Aspen (US winter)/Cortina d'Ampezzo/Zermatt/Courchevel (European winter) or Positano/Biarritz/Costa Navarino (European summer). Not Mexico (tacky past choices), nor Hawaii (proven multiple jinx).

'What do you mean, shirtless pics on the beach?'

'Nevis? Huh? Nevis? Pfff. If it's about rum, Martinique and Guadeloupe, all the way.'

The Independent/The Times. Not Scottish Daily Express, or any other dignified clickbait. It should not be that difficult, he already made it to NYT. 'He'll never please The Guardian, whatever he might do'.

Monocle/The New Yorker. Not Departures and if, for some obscure contractual reason, it has to be Departures -' please, for the love of all that's holy, not that woman'!

No international politics. If he absolutely must, he should limit himself to the human rights/humanitarian side of things and to big NGOs / UN / UNICEF endorsed messages. 'Better be politically vanilla than risk another major blunder' (neither Someone, nor I are politically vanilla - but then, we are not people constantly living under the rabid scrutiny of a thirsty fanbase).

A real one-person, bigger format travel show, SRH does.... [insert whatever you want in here, I and many like me, will watch]. No coat-tailing, dagger winding partner. More content and less silliness, please. He's 43. 'Ours is a very adventurous generation, we practically invented flashpacking'. And I have to agree: the best way to travel is, IMHO, to have it rough at the Breeze Guest House in Moulmein and then soothe yourself at Rangoon's Strand. For example.

No more silly lies. 'I bet the farm and the horses there is no house in LAX'. And I, for one, can even understand if he still needs to do it for a while. But please, don't overdo it. There's nothing worse than to watch a genuinely good guy desperately trying to lie and gloriously failing at it.

Oh, well. We did not spend an hour on the phone just to offer this kind of unsolicited advice. It just goes to prove how easily you can switch narratives and mend it all. All it takes is a first step. And some drastic changes. The sooner, the better.

[generational-atrophy]

Can I request Hetalia main 8 with an S/O who has bad periods that the nations don't understand.

Ivan probably would get stuck asking Ukraine about it and get mildly creeped out when she tells him about boob pain.

(Hetalia Main 8 X Reader) S/O with bad periods

(Gender Neutral) Headcanons ~ A/N JHFDGHJDKF YEAH but for ivan specifically i would argue he is actually pretty familiar with the struggles. Dear people who have periods i am so sorry. also i didnt do japan again sorry if u wer looking for him i wi. l do him seperately <3

Trigger Warning: None, just fluff!

Oh boy. You’re gonna have to be one teaching him about… everything related to periods. He’ll be like “What’s so bad? It’s just like a little scrape, isn’t it?” and by the end of the night he is Mortified by the process menstruating people have to go through. He is never going to downplay your pain again, don’t worry.

But he doesn’t know what to do to take care of you really… that’s his vice. He’ll just end up buying everything he can possibly think of to comfort you, and I mean… it’s something. It’ll dull the pain a little bit to eat an insane amount of chips while he plays with your hair all night.

If your legs go out or you need to go to the hospital during your time of the month, he is fully capable of carrying you wherever you need to go. Speeding laws be damned! When your entire body is trying to kill you from the inside out, you are the most important thing in the world to him.

For a long time, Arthur thought it was… unrefined to talk about things like periods. Of course, now he knows better, but that also means… he has no idea what’s going on down there. Or what it does to the body. So when you tell him about the back pain, the cravings, the light-headedness, the nausea… he is probably gonna be pretty doubting. Until you collapse or throw up on him.  Then he’ll take care of you, hand and foot.

Literally. He loves giving massages, and he’s weirdly good at it. Of course, he’ll get you some pain meds (the good pain meds, too) and snacks, but also his hands are not gonna leave your body until your time of the month is over. 

But until then, he is very concerned. Even if it’s the umpteenth time you’ve been with him through it, he’s still begging you to go to the doctor. Anytime anything does even slightly worse, he’s grabbing his keys, getting ready to speed you to the emergency room.

Francis may sympathize, but he really does not… understand the severity of the situation. When you moan about not getting out of bed, he’s just confused and a little annoyed. Sure, periods are painful, but… you’ve had so many, aren’t you used to it by now? 

Feel free to educate him. Or hit him. Both work.

After that, he’s not making you get out of bed. He may not know your pain, but he is sure as hell not gonna force you to do anything. If your job tries to get you to come in, he’ll even start a strike outside for you <3

And considering that you’re probably his first partner who gets that much pain from your time of the month, he has no idea what to get you. Get him a list, and make sure you tell him not to find healthier alternatives cause otherwise you’re getting gross chocolate that’s supposed to help with pain. He’s trying to help… he’s just weirdly terrible at this specific part.

Don’t worry! He’s had to come up with remedies for this exact problem since before the invention of the wheel! It won’t taste great, but he’ll have you back in shape in no t- wait, why isn’t it working?! What do you mean your boobs hurt more now?!

He’s… really concerned for you the whole time. It’s hard for him to leave your side, even if you insist you’re used to it. I mean, surely this many cold compresses should relieve your… unorthodox pains. Frankly, he’s impressed. How many years have you been going through this? And without him to wait on you, hand and foot?! A shame…

If you need anything, he’ll happily make it for you. Yes, make it. He wants to be sure your care is as perfect as possible, so he only trusts his own hands. But maybe be wary if your legs tend to give out… his old bones are not meant to be carrying anyone around for too long. But of course, he’ll still do his best for you.

The Braginsky family has been cursed for… well, ever… with terrible medical conditions, so he is very familiar with the suffering caused by periods. He’s heard Natalya wail and moan for hours on end, and he is not about to let you go through the same pain! He will rip the radiator out of the wall to use as a heating pad if he has to!

He doesn’t panic as much as the others would, he already knows what you need and had it at home. That means he is not leaving your side for even a second! If you suddenly get new pains, lose feeling in anything, or have any other emergency, he is fully prepared to sweep you off your feet and help you deal with it. And he’s had to do much grosser things than take care of someone he loves, don’t worry about that.

Like you could bleed on his leg and he would not even notice, much less be upset. He’s just like, “Oh, dear, are you running out of anything? I can pick anything up for you if you need.”

OH YOU POOR DARLING! Don’t worry, he already called into work for you! You need snacks? Heated blankets? Medication? Stuffed animals? For him to hold you in his arms? He’s there! No questions asked! (He has quite a low pain tolerance himself, so he is nothing but empathetic towards you during your time of need.)

If it’d make you feel better… he’d love to massage your stomach... Don’t look at him like that! He just wants to help!

Also, if he sees you trying to put on any tight and uncomfortable clothing, he is getting you out of that stuff asap. If you need to go anywhere, he’ll go for you! Don’t stuff yourself into such suddenly ill-fitting clothing… you still look beautiful to him. 

And if it gets too bad, you have the fastest (and most dangerous) driver in all of Italy to get you to the emergency room ASAP. So don’t worry your pretty little head, Feli’s got you!

Just because Ludwig knows all about the medical side of periods, does not mean he knows how to actually deal with you when you’re in horrible, horrible pain. The fact that although it may make you feel better, you are not up for doing anything, is just baffling to him. He may try to drag you out of bed to stretch and exercise. Please bite him when he does so.

Once you start describing your actual symptoms, he starts getting light-headed. No way… this happens every month? Incalculable back pain on top of your uterus exploding? You sure you don’t need a doctor? It’s really no hassle to carry you to the car, promise! But also, you could just take him up on that offer and change your mind and ask for ice cream. He would do it. Just saying.

Anything to relieve your suffering, really. He’s spending all his time worrying about you, so he’ll get anything you want without question. He can’t stand seeing you in so much pain… but he also can’t help but feel so blessed to have been born biologically male. Basically, you’ve got a servant whose in love with you for a week.

[izel-scribbles]

May we get the the villain monologue please 🥺

since you asked so nicely, of course you may, dear anon <3

fair warning, this has been festering in my notes app for months now lol. no guarantees on quality

The fallen angel paces the lectern. His white robe is muddy at the hem, stained with blood from the cultists. 

"You know, I used be God's right hand man."

His tone is casual, conversational. Completely wrong for the subject. 

"He would ask for my advice in everything. I was the one who suggested that humans should have eyes, to behold the beautiful world." He sighs with the memory of an old friend. 

"The Christians say that God created humans in His image. They're wrong. God's grandeur is beyond words."

You nod breathlessly. 

"We created the Earth together. But He never trusted me to create humans with Him. Sure, I could give him ideas every now and then, but I was never allowed the joy of creation of such a complex, marvelous being."

"I invented the first disease. I wanted to see if God's creations were truly as clever as He'd claimed. And a clever lot you were." 

Lucifer's eyes slide to you, the soulless gray-blue reflected in the storm clouds outside. 

"God was angry with me. I had gone against His will, but that freedom is something I seek to this day. I also made some of the animals that you humans hate. My personal favorite was the rat. Intelligent, wily, resourceful. 

"That was when I created the first alternate. I was trying to improve God's original design of humans, but there was something I didn't get quite right. In any case, I placed my alternate on Noah's ark. That was the real reason for the floods.  God had intended to exterminate my alternates."

Lucifer laughs mirthlessly. 

"His plans didn't work.

After that incident, I was cast down from Heaven. Like nothing more than a tool, old and worn and useless." The last few words are filled with such fury, and resentment, and pain. 

"God replaced me with another angel. The same angel whose face I take now."

Gabriel- Lucifer - gazes at you, his wicked smile not yet stretching into the alternate form.

"But... Why are you telling me all this?" You ask, baffled and still processing. 

"Because, my dove, you puzzle me. Why do you seek out my alternates? Why do you not cower with the fear of your brethren? It's been a long time since I've had a proper riddle to solve." 

"Oh." You're not quite sure how to respond. 

"So, tell me. What is it about you that attracts my creations? Why do they allow you to get so close?"

You think for a moment, looking away from his cold, piercing stare. You fiddle with your hands. There's blood crusted beneath your fingernails, a fact that doesn't bother you as much as it should,, considering it's not your own. 

---

it's pretty short, ik, sorry to disappoint

this was supposed to be part of a long-suffering wip: self-destructive artist reader who is obsessed with capturing the likeness of alternates x gabriel. it kind of got shifted to the back burner due to my very obvious tma and malevolent hyperfixations lol

i'll probably work on it more and try to get at least one chapter published :)