#this show has consumed me wholly

[thexternaloptimist]

[theaterchemy2]

Kamen Rider Legend is the antithesis to Kamen Rider Decade

Say what you will about Kamen Rider Decade, be it the mess of writing that made the show or every subsequent appearance that Tsukasa Kadoya has made since the show ran its course, but one thing that has remained constant is the character of Tsukasa himself. No matter which series or movies that he appears in, Tsukasa's character has remained consistent, which, in my opinion, makes him much more likeable and understandable. Even if every other Rider might disagree.

His surprise appearance in The Future Daybreak has him interacting with the gold-plated knock-off, Legend, which just made me want to see more of Tsukasa and less of Kaguya. Looking at them side-by-side makes the differences all the more apparent, and baffles me as to why tokutwitter thinks that Legend "saved Gotchard" when everything about Legend contrasts Tsukasa's character.

One thing that we are constantly told by the show is that Decade as an entity is a destroyer, and that he is a threat to the Rider multiverse. Tsukasa has no idea what any of that means, and frankly, none of the other AR Riders do, despite believing in Narutaki's claims that Decade is dangerous. So they fight, and Tsukasa is dragged into whatever plot the AR World of the two-week set piece happens to be. And there's the catch: Decade is inserted into the story of the AR Rider World to destroy whatever plot device is obstructing the progression of the plot that would likely be derailed otherwise without his intervention. Yeah, he's still a smarmy asshole the entire time, but that's part of the appeal of his character. As LittleKuriboh stated, Decade has basically "weaponized being a Gary Stu." Without that intervention, the conflict of each mini-arc would still be going on. Metaphorically, Decade is the intervening force that eliminates writer's block.

In universe, however, the reason that Decade/Tsukasa is considered a threat is due to his past/forgotten ambitions as the former leader of Dai Shocker. Prior to the series, Tsukasa had planned to conquest and subjugate all of the other AR Worlds using the Aurora Curtains that his sister, Sayo, could control. Then he was stranded in Natsumi's world with amnesia, and no idea why his pictures all turned out bogus. At this point, all he wants to do is exist, yet every world he comes across denies his existence due to his moniker as the destroyer of worlds. When he recovers his memories in All Riders VS Dai Shocker, Tsukasa is abandoned by everyone: his allies, his friends, his sister, and is basically at his lowest. And in comes AR Joji Yuki, who's there to take revenge against Tsukasa for the former betraying Dai Shocker. Tsukasa's response?

All the lessons and meetings that Tsukasa’s had since beginning his journey are at odds with his former ambitions of conquest. What else can he do at this point? Seeing him in this pathetic state convinces AR Yuki that taking his life is meaningless, as he can see that Tsukasa has been going through a lot of development of his own.

“You’ve wronged your world, so make it right. Don’t just accept your title as destroyer, make it mean something!” AR Yuki rips off his arm in preparation for battle, sparking something in Tsukasa, who then sets off to eliminate Dai Shocker, save his friends and sister, and maybe figure out who he’s supposed to be.

By this point, Tsukasa’s been traveling through enough worlds to understand how each AR Rider is defined. AR Kabuto is defined by his bond with his family, AR Faiz bridges the gap between human and Orphenoch, AR Blade proves that rank doesn’t matter much in the long run, etc. So now he’s searching for what defines Kamen Rider Decade. As the rest of the Riders arrive to back him and DiEnd up, Ichigou and Nigou state:

And these two statements are things that Tsukasa really seems to take to heart in every subsequent appearance. Who is Decade? The one who will be there to back up other Riders in crisis.

Moving onto Movie War 2010, Tsukasa, having accepted his role as the destroyer of worlds, fights, defeats, and seals the memories of each Rider into his cards. What’s the purpose? To ensure the survival of each AR Rider World upon his death, which is why he goads Natsumi into killing him. Each world has been destroyed and created anew with his death, ensuring that the memory of each world, the story of each world, is preserved.

But then, what about Decade?

After some collective reminiscing and revival-through-memories, Tsukasa and crew set off to stop the new conquest of Super Shocker, led by Narutaki, who for some reason, decided the best way to celebrate the death of his one-sided arch-nemesis would be to continue the conquest of the worlds. (Massive YOU WOT MATE)

That is what defines Decade, what defines Tsukasa. He’s someone who will step in if the world’s resident hero can’t step up in time. And every time someone asks, the answer will always be the same.

Whenever large crises that are beyond the scope of the current Rider occur, Decade is often one of the front-liners that will show up. In Super Hero Taisen, he knew that tricking all the Sentai and Riders into fighting each other would absolutely result in uncontrollable chaos, so he and Marvelous took the reins to prevent such from happening. In Kamen Rider Taisen, for as badly written as that movie makes Hongo out to be, as well as his appearances in the cluttered mess that was Zi-O, and especially Zi-O VS Decade/Decade VS Zi-O; no matter where he appears, Decade is one of the forces that is going to right the course of the story. He finds trouble, helps out, and then leaves, like a Tuxedo Mask that actually does his job. And again, yeah, he’s going to be a smarmy asshole about it the whole time, but at this point, that’s all he knows how to really act around others. The destroyer of worlds would look bad if everyone knew he was soft. And if he’s ever defeated, like how he was when he and Sougo A fought against Oma Zi-O in Zi-O VS Decade, he’s just going to come back. After all, as long as Decade is needed, he will truly never die, never rest, at least until he decides that enough is enough and Decade’s story is complete.

To summarize, Decade/Tsukasa is defined by the following:

He just wants to exist without his role as destroyer getting in the way.

He doesn’t go looking for trouble, trouble finds him.

His fights with the other Riders are all caused by interventions out of his control (Narutaki).

He destroys whatever obstacle that is freezing the plot progression, not the world itself.

He will be there to resolve anything that obstructs his journey/purpose.

Now then… contrasting ALL of this is the existence of Kamen Rider Legend, a boy who was saved by Decade in Zi-O Over Quartzer and decided that the best career choice would be to follow in his footsteps. How does he do this? By basically subjugating the entire world to his whim using the powers of all the Riders that “begged him” to do so. Uh… Run that fucking by me again?? You mean to tell me that this twink somehow convinced several Primary and Secondary Riders to willingly give up their powers? Like… Souji “No one can beat me because I am the best” Tendou? Eiji “Willing to reach out my hand to anyone in need” Hino? Sento “I hate war and I hate myself for allowing my Rider System to become a weapon” Kiryu? Haruto “I will be the hope for others who don’t have any” Soma? Takumi “Leave me the fuck alone” Inui? Takeshi Hongo and Hayato Ichimonji, the original Double Riders, who fought against Shocker to ensure that what happened to them would never happen to anyone else? And especially Riders like Kouta, Touma, and Ace, who are all essentially GODS?! All of them decided it would be a good idea to hand over their powers to a sparkly man child?

Not only that, when he’s first introduced, he basically states that Houtaro isn’t very gorgeous as a Rider, when, chronologically, only TWO EPISODES have gone by. Houtaro is at the start of his Rider journey! He’s only befriended Hopper1, Steamliner, Odoripa, Kamantis, and Skebows at this point! Of course he’s not “gorgeous,” HE’S LITERALLY STILL AT THE STARTING LINE!

The Gotchardriver malfunctions, and Houtaro is basically stranded in this wack dimension. Then Hundred appears and because Kaguya isn’t initially willing to step up, Houtaro goes out to fight them as himself, not as Gotchard, and only just before the fighting begins, Kaguya appears, with the Gotchardriver miraculously fixed. IF YOU COULD HAVE FIXED IT EARLIER, WHY DIDN’T YOU DO IT, YOU EGG?!

Then several months go by, and suddenly Kamen Rider Legend’s secret weapon goes missing and lands in Gotchard’s world, causing several Hundred officers, who ALL have Dark Rider powers, to arrive, planning on destroying everything that gets in their way, because evil. Which leads to THREE WHOLE WEEKS of the plot being hijacked by Legend, during which, Kaguya demonstrates that he’s an even worse offender of the “Chemies are tools” philosophy when he steals Hopper1 to do a finisher, gets butthurt because Houtaro has friends other than him, and then attacks Houtaro because “gorgeous time is over”, AKA “I work alone, stay out of it.”

So basically, Kaguya

Wants to exist and also wants to let every single world know about it.

Dragged the Gotchard cast into his problem because his super weapon has the worst security protocol.

Instigated the fight with Houtaro because “gorgeous time is over.”

Hijacked the plot, causing nothing of note to happen in the episodes he took over, save for revealing that Tamagon/Nijigon was inside the Gotchardriver (also Hijacked Majade, Valvarad, and Lachesis Valvarad screen time).

Showed up at the last minute to make an entrance when Saigetsu/Dark Kiva is about to use the never-before-seen Wake Up Three, when he could have been involved from the start instead of just sending Butler to find Houtaro.

All of this would at least be palatable if we were shown how Kaguya came to claim all of this, like how we were shown Tsukasa’s journey of becoming the destroyer of worlds, but instead, we are constantly told, by Kaguya himself, how great he is. Remind me how this knob “saved Gotchard”?

Now with the spoilers for The Future Daybreak, somehow he loses the Legend Chemy Card(?) and Tsukasa shows up to encourage him. Uh… okay. The actual conversation between the two better be “Do better, kid” and not “You’re doing good, keep it up”.

TLDR; Decade is better than Legend.

[lullabyes22-blog]

Hi lullabyes, would u mind sharing your take on the flashback with young Silco, Vander, and Felicia? :O

It's adorable. It's touching. It's sweet. It's a serene moment of intimacy and family (or polycule) bonding in an otherwise deeply frenetic season.

It's also so surreal it may as well be a fever dream.

I should note, at this stage I've shut off my cognitive reasoning about Arcane and begun approaching this as if it's a series of exquisitely crafted, animated short films that are all about to collide into a beautiful disaster.

Because that's what it is.

S2 has thrown a lot of the intelligent plotting out the window to embrace the chaos.  Whether due to time constraints, intellectual fatigue, or creative indulgence, I feel like we have a show that's now just hurtling breakneck towards the finish line. Previous story threads that once held weight and were the driving force behind character arcs and subplots, have since been abandoned. Nuanced motivations and character growth are being tossed to the wayside for the sake of action, montages, music videos, and a cavalier, anything-goes approach to world-building.

And yet, it's still such an incredible spectacle to behold.

@ravenkinnie delightfully noted that she is now watching this show with her pussy.

I agree 100%. S2 is a full-body experience, and one I find myself wholly consumed by. It's like a one-night stand you weren't expecting to be so fucking good. And when the sun comes up, you know it's going to hurt to say goodbye, and there'll be no follow-up call.

But damn, you enjoyed the shit out of that experience.

So yeah, the flashback was fucking adorable. I love the genuine emotion and closeness between the three characters. I adore the idea of Felicia, Silco and Vander being childhood friends (or, again, a very messy polycule) and both men sort of falling apart without her Manic Pixie Dream Girl presence in their lives. It's a nice little character arc.

However.

I cannot reconcile this scene with the rest of S1. It feels completely disconnected from the reality of the show and the world around them. The flashback has absolutely no impact on the current events, nor does it have any foreshadowing. The flashback exists solely to provide us with a glimpse into the past, with sweet little parallels to serve as bonbons that make us coo and sigh. It completely glosses over Silco's deeply, blackly visceral hatred of Vi in S1, reduces the class struggle culminating in the Day of Ash to "Oh, Silco. If only you've protested for your basic civil rights in a peaceful manner instead of tossing a molotov cocktail, you'd still have your family, a place in the community, not to mention your eye," does not really explain why Benzo reacted to Silco's appearance by calling him an animal, and, most importantly, gives the lie to the entire dynamic between Silco and Jinx.

We were led to believe that Felicia's death was the catalyst for Silco and Vander's falling out.  That if Silco had found Vander's letter in their little Brokeback bunk, they would've worked out their differences and found peace together. That they'd have raised Felicia's anklebiters side-by-side as the Zaundads of the revolution.

Except Silco is also the man selling Evil Anime PCP (Shimmer) as an economic cheat-code to earn respect for his people, and Vander is basically Captain Centrist and traumatized by war, and there is NO WAY they would've seen eye-to-eye on their respective methods. There's no way they would've come to any sort of accord. And there's no way Silco would've forgiven the man who mutilated and left him possibly sheared of half his lifespan, any more than Felicia's children would forgive the man who killed their mother.

It's such an incongruous narrative beat.

Which brings me to the other point:

Silco and Jinx.

imo, while I love the idea of Silco carrying either a secret torch for Felicia, or seeing her as a sister he'll always love, and while I absolutely treasure the idea of Jinx being a daily reminder of what he's fighting for - "I'm doing this for us, Jinx." - it sort of cheapens the key connection between them. In S1, Silco and Jinx's arc is, in my eyes, one of the best things about the series, and so incredibly well-written and executed. Silco is a monster, yes, but his monstrosity is the product of systemic and individual trauma, and the inextricable bleedthrough between the two. Finding this little girl and bringing her up under his wing, he has the chance to be the steadying hand and safe harbor he lost after Vander's betrayal. His monstrousness is not something he inflicts on her; it is something that, rather, grows on JInx like a kudzu vine, as the terrain of her damaged mind is already fertile for his worldview and methods to take root and thrive.

He is, perhaps, the best example of nurture triumphing over nature, even if his nurturing is rather, uh, extreme.

But if their bond is predicated on Felicia, rather than two strangers finding each other in the wilderness of heartbreak and learning to let their black hearts beat, messily entwined, as one family unit, and if Silco's obsession with Jinx is merely a projection of his guilt for killing her mother, and, by extension, a projection of his love for Felicia onto her daughter...

It's just.

Do y'all remember those uncomfortable frames that the showrunners admitted were deliberate, despite the evidence in the written text suggesting a familial bond? The subtext that, all the way into S2, carries the implication of a romantic relationship between a father and his daughter?

Well.

The implications now threaten to melt into explicit text, and the uncomfortable frames have turned into Unfortunate Implications, and I am not sure how I feel about this.

 It's not giving Lily and Snape; it's giving Sansa and Baelish.

It's giving the showrunners a big, fat "YEESH" rating from CPS.

And it's giving us the same, old, tired trope of a monstrous man unable to form an attachment unless it's through the lens of prior attachments, that whole 'You remind me so much of her' and the like.

 (I also admit I am the world's biggest hypocrite as the entire premise of Forward but Never Forget/XOXO is that the core foursome of Vander, Silco, Lika and Sevika knew each other, and that those ghosts haunt the machinery of the present day. But I try my damnedest to make plain there's politics buffeting all these relationships, and despite all their efforts to claw at self-sovereignty, reinvention and a new order, the past is a stubborn bitch that refuses to let go.)

(Also in FnF, Silco is triggered by Lika rather than into her in any affectionate or romantic way, because they're so similar: pragmatic survivors who aren't above rule-bending to get their way, and at their core just want a smoke break, a stiff drink, and a nap. It's a mutual respect rather than an affection, which is why she bestows on him the dubious honor of mercy killing her if she's too wounded on the Day of Ash to continue on.)

(He's the one person who could, and would, do her the service. It's kinship, and Jinx is the bright torch of their shared ambitions and ingenuity given both wing and voice.)

But anyway.

The flashback is a fever-dream. The kind you have when you're high on cold meds and can't think straight, and the world is a blur of sensations and memories that seem vivid in the moment but melt away into madness when you're better. It's a scene meant to be savored rather than interrogated. And I think if the showrunners had the time and inclination, we would've gotten a second episode solely dedicated to the flashback, rather than shoehorning it in. But since they're clearly trying to tie everything up with a neat bow before the finale, I don't blame them for having to skim past it and focus on the vibes/emotional resonance rather than the substance of a meaningfully written scene.

But hey.

Fanfic writers will have a field day with the open-ended dynamic and the fandom will never fucking stop, so that's nice.

Also we got loads of fantastic gifs of Young Silco. Bless.

<3

tl;dr: I've switched my critical brain off and decided to just enjoy the ride. It's so fucking epic. 

Also, Felicia was delightful and I hope her brotherhood/polycule/whatever with Silco and Vander gets its own spinoff, a la Road to El Dorado (or Zaun.)

[yaekiss]

𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑩𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒉𝒔

꩜ Room Content: GN! Top! Bathysmal Vishap! Reader x Subby! Bottom! Neuvillette, spoilers for Genshin Archon Quest 4.2, no gendered terms for reader, reader is a bathysmal vishap, Neuvillette has a dragon form, both reader and Neuvillette have hemipenes/two cocks, cloaca fucking (Neuvillette receiving), frotting, praise (Neuvillette receiving), lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ A/N: If you don't want to read about dragon vishap smut, don't read this one LOL. I know I said "between 800-1500 words". This one just ran away from me ok shhhh. I also made up some draconic courtship lore, don't look too hard at it (but please tell me if you think it's cute thank you <3) anyways ENJOY !!! ꩜ This was written for @coingbee as part of my Care for a Fic fundraising event for Gaza! If you would to request a fic of your own, do check out the event post above ^^

The Hydro Sovereign has returned to their full power.

From beneath the surface, your head lifts. Judging by the excited clicks and chirps made by the rest in the community, it seems as if the others have sensed it too. 

Whilst your fellow bathysmal vishaps murmur and chatter wildly with each other about whether or not to head up to the surface, you’ve already come to a decision. Without wasting another minute, you’re already hightailing it upwards towards the surface, tracking the whereabouts of your Hydro Sovereign via the trail of draconic power traces.

Following the trail takes you all the way into Fontaine. Along the way, you’ve adamantly ensured not to take routes with higher human traffic. The very thought of even crossing paths with one sends your mind twisting with a hatred and loathing so foul. 

As your journey progressed, the ebbing and flowing stream of the trail you’ve been tracking gradually grows stronger and stronger as your distance travelled increases. Until, finally, you’re sure you’re close to the end and even closer to meeting the Hydro Sovereign when the trail stops and seems to be wholly focused and condensed into a solitary being nearby.

Your head emerges from beneath the water, breaking the still surface, sending ripples outwards. Eagerness bubbles within you as you anticipate finally meeting with the Hydro Sovereign that the bathysmal vishaps have been biding their time for, restlessly awaiting the return of their Dragon Lord. The moonlight of the evening is lovely, reflecting off the flow of the ripples.

And yet, as you crane your head to look over to where the water laps gently at the shore, to where the trail you’ve been tirelessly following should end, you feel your blood chill.

All you see is a mere human who stares out into the vast sea.

A split second is all it takes for any previous semblance of anticipation to morph into disbelief and bitterness. Surely, this can’t be! After all this time, was the undying hope in seeing the return of the Hydro Sovereign wasted on some farce? A prime example of a cruel sadistic joke the high heavens would play at your expense, just to see you inevitably crumble at the grand reveal? 

Consumed by your emotions for a moment, you can’t help but regret not having forsaken your sight as your ancestors did. For perhaps if you had followed in their footsteps, you would’ve been able to bask in the exalted presence of your Sovereign leader, albeit for the price of blissful ignorance. 

However, there is still a stubborn, restless part in your mind that wishes to understand just how you could have been so misled like this, how you had managed to be fooled into tracking the trail of a human all this time. 

In a bat of an eye, you swim and make it to the shoreline, the coarse sand crunching under your claws. The disturbance causes the human to notice you, startled by the sudden appearance of a bathysmal vishap. (Although, strangely enough, no trace of fear shows on their face, and they make no move to scurry away.)

As the tension between the two of you grows, you advance slowly towards the human, low hissing sent to them as a warning. And suddenly, they try soothing you in a tongue that’s nothing but familiar to you.

Before your mind can keep up with the fact that this mere human can communicate with your kind, your head has already instinctively lowered along with your gaze pointed down towards the ground in deference to the undeniable traces of draconic authority in their tone and voice.

And when you feel a gloved hand lightly patting under your chin, trying to usher you back up to your previous position, you're struck with the dilemma of relishing in the awe of the unmistakable power of the Hydro Sovereign thrumming beneath or scorning the fact that you've allowed a human to touch you so casually.

(Does it really matter if the human in question is technically your Dragon Lord? The uncertainty leaves a sour taste in your mouth.)

Nevertheless, with enough insistence, they manage to raise your head back up before they start up the conversation.

“Greetings. I am sure you must have many questions regarding my form-” you nod, “-Very well, I suppose an explanation of events both recent and bygone is in order.” Through this, you learn briefly about the matters that have transpired, that his name is Neuvillette, that he is the both Iudex and the Hydro Dragon.

“I expect that you would take this information back to the rest of the vishaps, and that soon I might see more of you on the surface-” his tone drops to one more stern and absolute, “-With this, should any of the human Fontanians meet any unjust or unreasonable form of harm from your kind, I shall not hesitate in enacting the appropriate judgement.” 

An understanding reached, you return back to your community as a sort of newly appointed mouthpiece. However, this proves not to be your last meeting with the Sovereign. No, far from it, really.

The sun starts to dip below the horizon as you slink languidly behind Neuvillette on a stroll together at the area outside of the Opera Epiclese. A couple melusines ride atop your back, Blathine and Veleda. You’ve come to remember their names after Neuvillette encouraged you and the melusines to get along more. (And you might have a soft spot for them after realising the fondness the Hydro Sovereign extends to them.)

The sight of the Chief Justice, along with a literal vishap essentially piggybacking two melusines might seem to be an odd sight to most. However, Fontanians have simply gotten used to this after the first few instances. 

“Ah, there goes the Iudex and the melusines, and that big ol’... weird lizard he keeps around again, for the third time this week,” you hear someone in the surroundings say.

“Huh. Good for him, I guess,” someone else says in reply.

Despite all the time you’ve spent around humans while at your Sovereign’s side, you still haven’t quite managed to readily want to take up the form of one. Hence, the reason why there was a vishap right in front of the Fountain of Lucine. 

Sometimes the Fontanians comment that you’re some sort of big guard dog for Neuvillette. (Honestly, you can’t quite find it in yourself to be opposed to being seen as a protector for someone you hold dear. Plus, it made for easier piggyback rides for the melusines and you enjoy seeing the warmth on Neuvillette’s face when he sees them having fun.)

As the sky darkens and the stars above begin to twinkle, the both of you drop the melusines off at their destinations. Soon, you’ve strolled to the coastline, the soft sound of sea water crashing against the shore blending into the ambient noise in the peaceful evening. Admiring the moonlight glistening and skating across the body of water, you break the comfortable silence first.

“I shall be travelling back to the depths tomorrow, is there any message you would like me to pass on to the bathysmal vishaps?” 

Ever since your first meeting with Neuvillette, more and more of the others have been venturing out and up to the surface with the return of the Hydro Dragon. Due to your enthusiasm in meeting with the Sovereign, the responsibilities of monthly reports and announcements now fall on your back. (Sigh, is this what you get for being the first one back up? “The early bathysmal vishap meets the Hydro Sovereign,” or something of the like?)

“Ah. Has it already been a month since the last one?�� He pauses to think, before continuing, “No, I don’t have any information or messages to relay.”

Another short lull in the conversation, you note that he seems to be mulling something over as he thumbs along the handle of his cane in quiet contemplation.

“I hope I am not overstepping as I say this, however, I find myself reluctant to part with you. I find that the time that we spend together is invaluable and that I oftentimes catch myself longing for your presence whenever we are apart,” he communicates this to you, the vulnerability apparent in his words.

“Perhaps, my confession would be more sincere if I were not restricted in my human form.”

As he says this, he wades into the waters, then dives under when deep enough. There’s a change in the atmosphere surrounding you, a heavier pressure forming and coalescing as a vivid bright blue starts to glimmer from the depths.

You look out expectantly, waiting with bated breath, and before long, the mirror surface of the water begins to ripple and distort from something significant moving underneath. Its streamlined movements rocket it towards where you’re standing, and as the level of the water decreases, more of its form is revealed until ultimately, the Hydro Dragon stands before you in all of his glory.

His serpentine frame towers high above you, almost double your height, with smooth iridescent azure scales covering the top of his body and claw-tipped flippers. The colour of his scales transition gradually from blue to ivory white in areas like his underside and neck. His powerful tail relaxes in the shallows, occasionally swishing, causing little waves in the water.

Casting your gaze further up, you see the familiar sight of his glowing tendrils, extending down from the two sides of the back of his head. He cranes his head downwards in one fluid motion, closing the distance between the two of you as he levels you with piercing lavender slitted pupils.

Driven by natural instinct, you bow at the display of ancient authority.

“Raise your head, after all, have you not managed to worm your way into the space next to my heart?” You hear his voice in your mind, the edges of his words pronounced with the slightest hint of a gravelly growl in this new form.

He shifts in closer, nudging his head under yours to lift your gaze back up so that it meets his own.

“As I expected. This form truly is more freeing for myself. Now, I am able to do this,” The tendrils by his head seem to glow more intensely before he can continue. The almighty Hydro Dragon is… blushing?

“Forgive me if I am too forward, however,” there’s nothing but sincerity in his gaze, “Would you allow me to entwine with you?”

Neuvillette's simple question sends your mind reeling. The act of entwining is an incredibly  personal act of intimacy and often indicates the start of courtship in draconic species, one that signals everlasting devotion and commitment.

Usually, entwining is done with tails in regular vishap species. However, species with tendrils can also choose to use them instead of their tails since many believe the gesture to be more heartfelt. It is also said that the closer the frills or spines that the tendrils wrap around are to the head, the stronger the affection that the dragon has for the receiving party.

“I ask this of you not as the Hydro Dragon but rather, as Neuvillette. The one who has seen you cherish and care for the melusines, the one who has had walks under the rain with until the stars have emerged in the clear night sky.” He tilts his head down, tone serious. “That is to say, I do not wish to have your agreement only be one made out of obligation to authority.”

A beat of silence passes as your brain scrambles to process Neuvillette pouring his heart out to you, and you realise that your lack of an answer causes him to hesitate. (His tendrils droop a little and you think you see rain clouds starting to form.)

Before he can apologise or backtrack, you shift forward, headbutting him lightly to shake him out of his crestfallen state.

“Of course, Neuvillette.”

Upon hearing your answer, he instantly brightens and he goes to nuzzle his cheek against the side of your snout. 

“Do excuse me if I execute this wrongly, I’ve never done it before after all,” he comments before gingerly manipulating his glowing tendrils so that they coil around the spines closest to your head on either side. 

Up close, you can see everything so clearly, the tenderness in his gaze that he holds specifically for you. You can’t help but playfully bump your forehead against his, making him emit a content low rumble.

When he untangles and pulls back up, you swipe your tongue briefly against one of his tendrils, something akin to a quick kiss. This elicits a shiver from Neuvillette, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Apologies, ahem, it seems that my tendrils are quite the sensitive area. This full form is still somewhat new to me, and I have not had the chance to discover and understand everything about it just yet,” he squirms lightly against you.

“So how about we find out together? No time like the present, after all,” your tone is sly, charged with a salacious intent that causes Neuvillette to stiffen, tendrils glowing even more intensely than before.

Saying nothing, he swiftly manoeuvres his lithe body until he’s lying supine on his back,.  he exposes his vulnerable underbelly to you, an act so trusting that it roots you to the spot in disbelief for a brief second. Your eyes travel down until you catch sight of his cloacal opening already growing slick.

“Teach me well, beloved.”

Using his tail, he ushers you onto his larger form, where you clamber until you've positioned your slit against his. And when you grind downwards, you can feel him tremble beneath you.

“Hah… I wasn’t aware that it would feel this good,” you hear his voice shake with arousal in your mind. Maybe it’s a side effect of telepathic draconic communication, yet, it’s almost as if you can feel everything he’s feeling, like all your sensations are linked with his, increasing the pleasure bubbling up within you twofold. 

He takes the initiative this time, pushing his bottom half upwards to rut against you. It’s not long before the both of you are reduced to grinding against each other, each moving in tandem in order to maximise the pleasure. 

Suddenly, Neuvillette halts all action, causing you to freeze and check up on him.

“I’m alright. I only stopped because it seems like your hemipenes have everted.” Bashfully, he averts his gaze elsewhere, as if he had been caught seeing something he shouldn’t have. (Which is laughable considering the fact that the both of you were just writhing on the ground, tangled up in each other.)

In your haze, you hadn’t even noticed your cocks evert. Neuvillette’s are still somewhat concealed within, only the drooling tips peeking out of his entrance. 

“Yours haven’t yet, that won’t do. How else are we supposed to help you understand your new anatomy?” you shake your head, a faux forlorn tone decorating your words. “Would you allow me to penetrate you, Neuvillette?”

He nods at your suggestion and you line up one of your tips at his opening. Aided by the copious amount of slick fluid, you’re able to slowly enter him, sandwiching one of his dicks between the one you have in him and the one rubbing against his exposed head.

The new sensation has him throwing his head back, drawing out a loud throaty groan.

“D-Don’t stop, please, beloved.”

Spurred on by how wrecked he sounds, when you’ve made sure he’s comfortable, you start to rock in and out of him, shallow unhurried motions to start then transitioning to a faster pace once he starts to meet your thrusts. Slowly but surely, as Neuvillette gets increasingly worked up, his hemipenes gradually evert until they’re fully revealed.

They’re slender, each with a pale white bulbous base that then curves and morphs into a tip that’s more flared on the bottom edge, like a blunt fishing hook.

“There we go, how are you feeling, still fine?”

“Yes, but allow me to catch my breath first before we continue. Thank you for checking with me, beloved.”

When he’s ready, he experiments and frots his cocks against yours, hissing at the heat and friction as they drag along your lengths. The slick sounds do nothing to quell the rising desire within you and you can feel yourself reaching your peak.

The dragon under you is faring no better as well, judging by how wound up he’s getting. His tail is flicking wildly to and fro in the water, churning up the sand as a desperate mix of growls, chirrups, and pitched calls leave him. Despite it all, he’s still the most gorgeous sight you’ve ever had the opportunity to witness.

“You’re nothing but beautiful, Neuvillette. Ah! I’ve grown to see the overflowing compassion you have within you,” he keens at your words and you can sense the pleasure he’s feeling melding with yours.

“How fortunate I must be to stay at your side, to call you mine, as I, yours.” And this is what does him in.

As he spills over, his tail goes to loop around yours tightly whilst his muscles lock and shake. You follow suit not long after, a sticky mess forming between the two of your bodies

A quick splash around in the water washes most of the evidence off. You rest next to where he’s curled up comfortably, the waves rhythmically lapping up against him. The atmosphere is relaxed as the both of you wind down and converse.

“I’d love to stay with you till the late morning but you have a trial scheduled and I promised to find Pahsiv first thing in the morning to catch up,” you lament.

A rumble from his chest, he’s chuckling. He tucks his head next to yours, caressing a tendril across your cheek.

“I’ll wait for you. Return safe, my beloved one.”

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

If you'd like to request a fic of your own, do consider checking out my event post!

[kacievvbbbb]

But what if I said Mihawk

*puts my hand on your back as I lead you down an endless hallway* walk with me.

Mihawk not wanting shanks to know how much he means to him. How he was the only barrier between Mihawk and and an all consuming nihilistic loneliness. How he hides himself so thoroughly that he feels he needs an excuse to be around shanks. If it’s not dueling then it’s bringing him a wanted poster Mihawk can’t just see Shanks because then he’ll know! He’ll know that he is all Mihawk has and that sometimes the loneliness he’s surrounded himself in suffocated him threatens to swallow him whole.

That he knows Shanks loves him has no doubt about it Shanks is incapable of not loving the people around him. And Mihawk doesn’t know what to dj with it. Doesn’t know how to love him back. Doesn’t know how to love without the weight of expectation . Doesn’t know how to stay without feeling restlessness settle in his skin. Doesn’t know how to be bad at something and so he avoids it. Let’s himself get swept up in Shanks love and never think about what it might mean to love him back whole heartedly (because he does he always has he always will even when they were ten years apart the only face he ever wanted to see at the end of a blade was shanks this is the only way Mihawk knows how to love)

Mihawk by his nature is casually cruel. He’s callous with people and capricious.Mihawk is terrible at making friends in the way all lonely people are. Doesn’t even know he needs friends. He places to much on shanks. Revolved his life wholly around the expectations on him. He said a lot of things he regrets that day. Some part of him still desperately wishes to see that smiling boy with the straw hat and 2 arms again live and in motion. He doesn’t know how to be sorry for this. Doesn’t know how to apologize at all. Doesn’t know what the weight of guilt is supposed to feel like. But Mihawk is sorry for the words he said that night, he didn’t mean them. He’ll never say that tho. But he will show up with a wanted poster and takes of the exploits of a smiling young boy with a straw hat and a body nit made of rubber. (It’s not the same but he’s glad that boy wasn’t gone forever that he gets to live on in color and motion)

There is a green haired swordsman that has changed the trajectory of Mihawks life. And a pink haired ghost girl that’s complicated his entire philosophy and the red headed man that is the catalyst that started it all. Mihawk has changed in the 2 years of having known these 2 kids more than in his 41 past years of being alive. There is nothing as undoing as a child. Maybe Mihawk can just love for the sake of it no expectations, no requirements, no guilt

[hyperactively-me]

regency era!ghost x reader (part 5.5, the letter)

My Dearest Lady,

I pray that you will permit me to trespass upon your time and patience to convey the deepest sentiments of my being. As I sit here, quill in hand, I find myself overwhelmed by the enormity of my sins against you, and I scarcely know where to begin. 

It is with utmost shame and remorse that I recall my conduct towards you since our initial introduction. I have behaved with a rudeness and presumption that are wholly unbecoming of a gentleman, let alone a Duke. I shudder to think of the disdain and hurt I must have caused you with my unkind words and actions. I am acutely aware that my behavior has been unjustifiable, and I am filled with profound regret for every instance in which I have disrespected your dignity and disregarded your autonomy.

I have wrong you grievously, and the realization of my behavior now pierces me with a pain sharper than any sword. I was blind, wholly consumed by my own pride and misplaced sense of superiority. Again, my conduct has been nothing short of deplorable. 

I am unworthy of redemption, this I know. My actions have left indelible scars, and no mere words can ever hope to erase them. Yet, here I am, on my hands and knees, begging for a chance to atone for my sins. I am a man undone, crumbling under the weight of my own guilt.

I have been tormented by the memory of my cruelty and your undeserved suffering. My heart is a tempest, my soul a wasteland, lacking peace until I can make amends. I can no longer bear the weight of my guilt without seeking your forgiveness. 

Please, my lady, grant me the opportunity to atone for my transgressions. I beg of you, allow me the chance to right my wrongs. Allow me to demonstrate my remorse and my earnest desire to make things right. Your forgiveness would be a balm to my troubled heart and a chance to mend the rift I have so thoughtlessly created. I offer you my sincerest apologies as a flawed and fallible man, one who has come to realize the true value of your character and the depth of his own failings. 

If it takes a lifetime, I shall devote myself to proving my repentance, to showing you that I can be a better man, one worthy of the grace and dignity you so effortlessly embody. Your forgiveness is not something I deserve, but it is something I yearn for with every fiber of my being.

I am, and shall remain, your most humble and contrite servant,

Simon Riley, the Duke

part 5 < > part 6

[waitmyturtles]

Thinking About QL Fandoms and Markets For Indian Queer Media

Alright, ::rubs hands together::, let's see if this old auntie can get the link history of this thread straight first.

@impala124 originally wrote in an ask to dear @lurkingshan about Shan's thoughts on a developing fandom for Indian queer media.

Shan subsequently asked a few of us on the internet, brown Asian and/or otherwise, to weigh in, which @starryalpacasstuff did here. Starry's piece has a few great reblogs with media resources that everyone should scurry to check out.

The inimitable @neuroticbookworm then decided to show us her literary Tae Bo skills and dropped an absolute MONSTER of a must-read regional media and industry analysis here. (Let me emphasize that this is a MUST-READ PIECE if you're interested in Indian media.)

I'm going to use NBW's piece as a reference throughout my weak-ass response tea here, because she covered almost everything that needed to be said about why there ISN'T a robust or developed fandom on the internet for Indian queer media. So go read that first, and if you forget to click back here, it's all good, because I'm just gonna offer some unorganized macro-level thoughts at this point.

****

I'd like to first amplify a number of themes that @neuroticbookworm made clear in her piece about the "media industry in India." I'm only putting that phrase in quotes not because NBW wrote it (she didn't), but because it's a wholly inaccurate phrase.

1) INDIA IS *NOT* A SINGLE, UNIFIED CULTURAL MONOLITH. Remember your early social studies classes on early civilizations? The Aryans, Harappa, Mohenjo Daro? Those specific civilizations arose in the north of the Indian sub-continent, and not a lot of social studies spaces outside of Indian classrooms give love to the other regional areas in India -- like, say, all of South India, hello -- that belong to other civilization definitions.

To be grossly overgeneral, ancient civilizations in the northern subcontinent were known as Aryan civilizations, while those of the southern subcontinent were known as Dravidian civilizations. We see these differences today in the food we brown people eat, and ESPECIALLY in the languages we speak. Tamil (a Dravidian South Indian language) couldn't be farther away from Hindi (a North Indian language emanating from Sanskrit).

2) While the prominent political nationalists of India (😐) would like to have you believe that all Indians are monolithically similar -- or rather, SHOULD be monolithically similar by way of all Indians speaking Hindi, consuming Hindi media, and erasing religious diversity (🤬) -- nothing could be farther from the truth of our incredibly diverse and complicated subcontinent. We Indians are regionally, and therefore culturally, diverse in a great myriad of ways, way beyond our food, language, and religious preferences.

[For my non-Indians and non-Asians reading this, think about the two dishes you see the most on Indian restaurant menus outside of India. Chicken tikka masala and tandoori chicken, right? That's typical "Indian" food to the untrained eye. CTM is a British dish borne from immigrant South Asian chefs; and tandoori chicken was created by North Indian Punjabis. My own Indian origins are half-half (lah), I'm half-South and half-North Indian (with some SE Asia thrown in there, boleh!). My brain fucking freezes when I speak to someone who thinks the extent of "Indian food" is CTM and TC, and I have to explain, for the millionth time, the basics of the incredible array of South Indian vegetarian food that I grew up eating and loving.]

Thus, what I'm trying to say is, when we say the word "INDIAN," there are some questions that a curious listener should be tuned into asking to get specifics about just what kind of "India" or "Indian" the speaker is speaking of. I'll often get the question, "but WHERE in India are your parents from," from tuned-in Asians, who want to know specifically about my regional background.

VERY SO OFTEN IN POPULAR DIALOGUE ABOUT "INDIAN MEDIA," THE UNDERLYING ASSUMPTION OF THE CONVERSATION IS THAT THE SPEAKER IS ONLY SPEAKING ABOUT HINDI-LANGUAGE MEDIA, WITHOUT RECOGNIZING THAT REGIONAL AND/OR NON-HINDI LANGUAGE MARKETS MIGHT BE MAKING MEDIA, EVEN POPULAR MEDIA, FOR THEIR SPECIFIC REGIONAL MARKETS AND AUDIENCES WITHOUT AS MUCH OF A GLANCE TO THE DOMINANT HINDI-SPEAKING NORTH.

NBW says this brilliantly in her incredible piece, which delineates the major differences in the MANY regional and even sub-regional media markets of India, that produce a VAST array of media in the languages of the regions, markets, and audiences that this media serves.

On a personal note, when I was a kid, I only watched old South Indian films subtitled in English that my South Indian dad found. My North Indian mom watched them with us happily. We didn't do Bollywood in my house because frankly, dad hated those films and wasn't into them. Now that I think about it, it's probably because those Hindi films didn't bear a single resemblance to the cultural and life he lived growing up in South India.

3) Alright, so we have established that in terms of media, to speak about "Indian media" as a monolith is utterly incorrect, and just, go back to NBW's piece to get an excellent analysis of the details of that situation.

NBW does a bang-up job highlighting important pieces of regional media throughout her post, and like I mentioned before, there are multiple lists of media in the reblogs Starry's piece linked above ( @silverquillsideas notes in her reblog of Starry's piece that two important films come out of the state of Bengal, a market that us Indians should certainly pay attention to in particular.)

I therefore might posit that there might not actually be a unified "fandom for Indian queer media."

IT IS CLEAR from the reblogs of the various pieces that we've written over the last few days, that us Indians who love QLs certainly don't INHERENTLY know, universally, about ALL the queer media, across the subcontinent, in the MANY languages we speak, that has been made.

We have a lot of learning to do across our own regional identities.

I'd argue that, instead, from an organic growth perspective, that regional media markets in India would respond to THEIR OWN AUDIENCE'S AND MARKET'S DEMANDS and create queer media WITHIN THEIR OWN REGIONS

a) if their market(s) demanded it, AND b) if there was either pre-production funding, or a guarantee of net revenue from the airing of such media.

A fandom doth not create media.

It is filmmakers that create media.

And those filmmakers need

✨ MONEY ✨

✨ MONEY ✨

✨ MONEY ✨

to make media.

Some regional markets will, by nature, be willing to take risks on a filmmaker's desire to make queer media. Those projects could succeed, or could fail. Badhaai Do is one of the best examples of a Bollywood breakout piece that gained even some international attention, and certainly attention ACROSS the subcontinent.

But I want to emphasize this point about

MONEY.

The question that we're pondering is, why isn't there a more prominent fandom for Indian queer media and/or QLs?

@twig-tea made note, in her reblog of Starry's original piece, about the importance of accessibility and subtitling, an important note not just for international audiences, but for regional Indian populations that don't speak the same language(s). Accessibility allows fans to watch the media of their own markets, and markets outside of their boundaries.

But even bigger than this is, before we even get into accessibility, is: the filmmakers need money to spend to MAKE projects, and in an ideal scenario for themselves and/or their studios, they then need to (hopefully) make a PROFIT to demonstrate a sustainable desire and demand for the media they're producing, a profit that could hopefully be re-invested into more and new queer media projects.

Let me not get into all the obstacles in which filmmakers, queer or otherwise, might run into issues with production fundraising for a queer-centered project. We Indians know about our conservative, often violent, obstacles.

NBW does a fabulous job in her piece discussing what COULD be made by way of queer media that COULD gain a stronger cultural foothold over time across the subcontinent.

4) A fandom, most often, develops as a response to media already created. A fandom, HOWEVER, *IS*, often, in today's digital age, often recruited to fundraise for projects they want to see! GoFundMe, right?

I think it was @impala124 in a reblog that mentioned that there's already a "market" for Indian QLs. But we've established now that there are actually many unconnected regional media markets in India that can't be assumed to be glommed together.

If a fandom WANTS to see a particular kind of media, in their own specific regional market, it's certainly well within its rights of speech to create internet buzz for it.

But I think we as fans also need to take responsibility for a better understanding of the economics of media creation, and to be patient as queer media is produced across the subcontinent, and to simply do our best to hype it up on the internet when we can, so that commercial sponsors and potential production funders can then pay attention to what us fans want -- and what we're willing to pay for.

And let me be honest, this is a *tremendously difficult proposition* for a field of media that's just really small against the giant, mainstream, well-funded media markets of India. And this field of queer media would be guaranteed to face crippling and disgusting conservative criticism as it gains more of a prominent cultural foothold -- as we are seeing in South Korea literally at this very second.

Looking on the economic bright side: we see in Thailand and in Japan that QLs make MONEY. Shit, not just Japan being into Japanese QLs, but also, Japan is so into Thai QLs that the major Thai channel and studio, GMMTV, has a distribution deal with the Japanese channel TV Asahi to air Thai QLs in Japan. MONEY, BABY! INTERNATIONAL DOLLAS. Great Sapol, of the QLs Manner of Death and Wandee Goodday, just wrapped a stint in a mainstream Japanese drama, and I'll assume that's because he's hotttt and talented gotten a lot of attention in Japan from his previous Thai QL work, as well as his lengthy resume in Thai mainstream media.

The hunger for QLs is there in these two major national markets, and the Thai and Japanese audience markets have proven that the demand for content for these countries can be economically fruitful. So the media markets of these two (much smaller than India) countries are pumping ever more money into production, and filmmakers are responding with more QL content than ever.

We have not even begun to contemplate reaching that tipping point in India, across our regional markets, yet. Again, NBW offers some creative paths forward that will take time to develop.

Fuck, I mean. Imagine Bollywood looking towards Thailand and its branded pair formula as an inspiration to develop queer media. (IMAGINE.) Get two super popular Bollywood actors together in a branded acting coupling/partnership. Shah Rukh Khan and Saif Ali Khan doing India's version of What Did You Eat Yesterday?. In aprons! Making keema and rajma and chapatis. ShahSaif (SaifShah?!). KhanKhan. How would that go down?

It's a proven economic formula in Thailand. And that's just one example. We're well familiar, separately, with how Japanese QLs gain traction in bigger media spaces for its audiences, with media being adopted for the screen, as they mostly are, from popular yaoi and yuri mangas.

India and its regional media markets need some proven economic formulas within its regional markets to prove that queer media can gain culturally important footholds across the mindsets of various audiences -- and to prove that those footholds can produce profits.

The fandom element in this is that the regional fandoms, while creating buzz, could also prove to be important economic factors to a regional queer media industry being able to survive, and maybe even thrive.

Assuming that I am speaking to a mostly progressive group of fans here: we can only hope for this, and we must support the queer media that the subcontinent currently produces, IN *ALL* THE LANGUAGES (!!!!), to demonstrate to producers that Indians, wider South Asians, and even non-South Asians, WANT THIS MEDIA. We want it, we SHOULD want it, and damn it, we should SPEND OUR MONEY on it, to show our appreciate to the filmmakers taking risks to make this media.

I'm out! I need a chai and a samosa and a dosa.

[lawyer-of-louis-de-lioncourt]

Fans of IWTV that are problems

People who want to put the blame on one character.

Like sir. Uhm. How do I say this? In a way that can penetrate your mind?

They. Are. All. Horrible. People.

But they are also: All Beautiful People With Love All Consuming.

Both can be true. Because IWTV is the extreme reflection of life and people.

There is this comment on a fan edit on YT that was literally posted a day ago that I found.

I think we've established Louis is the problem. He is the common denominator in all these toxic relationships. Even his and Claudia's was an unhealthy mess. [Image]

And before I go on, on why this sh*t brings the movement down and I don't and won't tolerate I just want to bash the thinking of this person.

Let me ask you, reader and watcher, if a person in an abusive relationship lands in another abusive relationship are they the problem? Are they seeking to be abused yet again? Do you think they like it? Do you think Louis du Point du Lac went into loving Lestat because Lestat showed anger issues? Insecurities? No. He saw the best in him. He still fucking does. He loves the guy despite his problems. Do you think Louis fell for Armand because he was a gaslighter? A liar? A betrayer and clear child killer? No. He fell for Armand's ability to be soft to be gentle. He fell for his understanding. His clear care and focus on what he wants. His endurance.

"Louis is the problem." The problem here is that there are lies and manipulation from all characters. Louis is a lost soul who is more impulsive than the rest of the characters. He goes through life always seeking, seeking, seeking not really knowing what he is looking for. He also has fucking depression and some deep self-resentment.

But to say he is a problem because he is a victim (and he is because even though he has his strengths in the events between the Big Lestat Drop and The Trial he has been most hurt from both events more than Lestat and Armand (if we don't count Claudia because she was the MOST VICTIM OF ALL OF THEM DURING THAT ERAS)) is disgusting. It's victim blaming. To say he is a common denominator of abuse is stupid. He is the common denominator BECAUSE he attracts powerful love interests who are unhinged.

There is a huge power imbalance between Louis and Lestat. That was unknown. A power imbalance between Louis and Armand that was known but put aside because Armand gave the illusion that he was giving Louis the reigns.

To say Louis is the problem is blaming a wife being beaten, divorcing her husband and then getting in a relationship where she is beaten again. Clearly she's asking for it. (That's how this post sounds like) And. I. Will. Not. Tolerate. It.

Okay. Now that is put aside.

Like I said before.

These vampires are broken. One could argue being beyong repair.

The purpose of the books is to show monsters in love. Monsters who act on humanity but still take it too far.

There's a whole quote that says something about Lestat loving first and how passionate he is but in that love the only way he can show it is through violence. To break it.

We see Armand who is so loving and so f*cking patient. So eager to be loved. So eager to not be alone. Because he has been so alone all these years and then he meets Louis. Louis with a daughter. Louis with a burning, eager heart to be free this time around. Louis who represents everything Armand desires. To be free of all chains. And in wanting Louis he loves only him. Sees Claudia as chain too. Because Louis broke free of Lestat. Because Claudia, to Armand, is an extension of Lestat. Louis' capturer, maker, abuser.

He loves so much that he sees this as right. To get Louis all to himself. He wants this so badly. He even says it. "I want you more than anything in the world."

Words with weight. Words he meant. Words he carried through. He loves wholly. Obsessively. He loves solely.

And then Louis. Sweet Saint Louis. A father, a brother, a man who cannot exist or see himself outside of others. He is father, brother, lover, companion, son before he is Louis. This man who cannot exist outside others. This man who because of his spiraling self-hate drags others so he can stop the self- punishment. To get a reprieve. To put this love onto others because he can only love himself by loving and caring about others.

Who cannot love himself. Who drags the body of a stranger's daughter to beg for one himself. Who self sabotages and then tries to fix it. Who loved someone who hurt him because he can't let it go. Who thought he could love a man with burdens and control that was spiraling. A man who he knew felt the loneliness he had too. Louis who begs, demands and pleads and manipulates to get this fix of love. To put it somewhere. Even if it destroys the person he loves. (Paul, Claudia, Lestat and Armand) Just a little bit. Who loves then bites the hand that feeds him. Who loves so much. So much. He gets lost in it. Then drowns. Drowns in his failures. And drags others into it.

(Lestat: You drag me into your gloom. Armand: Will I be on suicide watch for the next 1000 years?)

And it's true to sense. He can't preserve his happiness. And sometimes he goes out of his way to not. Destroys it. (The killing of Lestat. The harsh words in 1970s to Armand) Because he doesn't deserve it.

This is all what it comes to:

They are humans stuck to live forever with these woes and problems and nowhere to put it. No where to put their trauma. So they make it themselves and then try to love with these jagged pieces.

They are fleshed out and more real than any character out there.

They are real. In their monstrosity. In their humanity.

They are horrible, they are beautiful, they are guilty, they are innocent. All of this. All true. All at the same time.

"I could not prevent it."

"...Was a band aid for shitty marriage?"

"This fascinating boy."

"I HEARD YOUR HEARTS DANCING?"

"Let me go."

"I love you with all of myself."

"Come to me."

"But she didn't love you. Not like he did, not like I have."

"I hate you."

"I know, I know. She's calling me."

"You and me. Me and you. You and me. Me and you."

"PICKED ANOTHER ONE OVER ME!"

"He's...a lot."

"I love you too baby brother."

"I'm not asking Arun."

"Am I all I have endured?"

"THE NAME! UNUTTERED in our home for 23 YEARS!"

"Could you imagine me? Without the burden of her?"

"I want you more than anything in the world."

"She called me an angel. Me!"

"Saint Louis."

"Are your companions?" "Yes." "No."

"I had a hunch."

"He forgave me."

"Why do I owe you my one act of cowardice?"

"Armand preserves my happiness..."

"Claudia is my coven."

"It was never about me."

"Tell her she's beautiful every morning."

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[mychapel-004]

i am about to ramble like a crazy person abt the fnaf movie so scroll if u don’t like spoilers

was not expecting all the love on my last post so i will keep posting thoughts abt the movie

another thing that rlly interested me in the movie was the focus on images, how humans process things through what we see rather than context, and how this sets up the fnaf movie trilogy to focus on fnaf 4 in the next movies.

the most obvious example is abby, we’re explicitly told that children communicate and understand things through pictures, which mike sorta shrugs off until he starts seeing the bigger picture. this then applies to the animatronics when he learns that they are also children and incredibly influenced by the drawings in their environment. the restaurant in the movie is very much a living thing of its own, the way it thrums to life when abby enters, and the animatronics know the truth of the drawing the second it is pinned up, and the animatronics are an extension of that.

a less obvious example is mike. even though he shrugs off abby’s teacher, and the point she makes about him being at the centre of all her pictures, he is much the same. it isn’t just children who are influenced by images. he has been returning to the same image every night for we don’t even know how long, the same picture of the nebraskan trees, the same perfect family picture he describes to vanessa, the same image of his brother looking at him out of the car window. everything he does is a result of this image. he is wholly consumed by it, believes he can somehow change the picture and see the truth beneath it if he just tries hard enough.

the ghost children, specifically golden freddy, change the image for him in an attempt to placate him into giving them abby, but no matter if he dreams of a happy family, it wont change the truth of what happened. just like how pasting a picture of five children happily holding hands with a golden bunny won’t change the truth underneath. images are fallible, they don’t tell the truth and we cannot trust our brains.

firstly i think this is a really fun direction to take in context to how the movie humanises the animatronics. fnaf 1 is a game made entirely of scary, still images of the animatronics, save for the jumpscares and foxy’s run. the lore is sparse and entirely given through exposition (if i hear one more person complain abt vanny only being there for exposition and not phone guy’s two minute loredump at the start of every night in the game i will lose it), and we know nothing other than that our death is imminent.

but the truth is that these animatronics are kids. they’re scared and lost and confused and cannot understand what has happened. underneath bonnie in the west hallway camera and freddy staring at you from the showtime room are terrified kids doing what they feel they have to. the movie was incredibly dedicated to showing that these kids still want to build pillow forts and sing to music and tickle their friends and be a family and i think it was a great choice.

i think all this focus on images is definitely a perfect lead into fnaf 4 (im not 100% on my book lore but i believe there are three books that cover fnaf 1, fnaf 4 and then sister location??) especially with the recent lore update that all of fnaf 4 is hallucinations. we don’t need a lore explanation of how the nightmares could be real because… they aren’t. following the game timeline, fnaf 4 would have already happened by now but we could easily see a return to it through mike, especially if the schmidt-emily or schmidt-afton theories are true and mike could have been the child in fnaf 4 but surpressed his memories. firstly we have a protagonist who is already on sleeping medication and has dreams that can be easily manipulated. this is a perfect setup for the nightmare animatronics to start making themselves known.

i also think that fnaf 1 was intentionally visually tame. the themes of the movie are actually very dark, they don’t shy away from the truth of the bodies being hidden in the suits, the animatronics Very Brutally kill the burglars, max is literally bitten in half and her body is hidden away, but the on-screen gore keeps it pg. this 100% allows them to experiment further with the levels of gore, tension and violence if they do fnaf 4, because quite frankly some of the nightmares are horrifying.

TLDR this movie sets up a million directions and theories that the next one could go in, and theres nothing the fnaf fandom loves more than vague lore and theory crafting

vanny post next bc i have Thoughts

[darkdemeter]

More Fem child reader fluff! S/O has to travel with Strife and War since they cant find a way to Earth, deciding to help her after their mission is complete. As they travel, they figured S/O has a pure innocent soul full of light due to being kind and young. One night during camping, S/O is asleep, possibly in Strife’s arms, War’s cloak, or besides the horses who care for her like she’s a baby horse, and brothers discuss how frail and small and innocent the child is and wanting to protect her.

GUIDE HER WAY HOME III

◤✘DARKSIDERS REQUESTS | CATALOGUE (Platonic!) Strife and War x Female Child!Reader

NOTES ↳ And so our story continues! *dreamy sigh* I adore how this story is playing out, it's turning into a bit of a series but I'm honestly here for it (and writing it). I love being able to let my creativity come through with these wonderful ideas submitted to me and explore the more in depth character study of Strife and War in this story arc. WARNINGS❕ ↳ Fluffy, wholesome content — mention of prior injury — a bit of light angst? — intended hunting/killing of an animal — Ruin and Mayhem eat apples (headcanon) — I think that's it?

✎ 2.2k ────────────────────────

With Earth’s location being guarded by a ward that protects it, what are the Horsemen to do? 

The angels they sought guidance from proved to be a poor choice of candidates to look after you. Thus, they must take on the role as your guardians until the appropriate time comes and their mission is complete. They cannot simply set aside their prior responsibilities. 

Only after their task is done can they finally take you home — will deliver your home, where you belong.

But the way things are turning out to be, it cannot be said it’s dull or damning; in fact both Strife and War find their situation… enlightened. As if being in your presence that awes with glimmering light somehow brings a calm over them, comforting like a sure and weighted blanket. 

Nor can it be said that there’s no small amount of adventure with you around, running about their legs in a hurry whenever you take breaks or make camp for the night. Though the Horsemen continue on their destined path, they thought it was best for you to stretch your legs, to burn through some of that pent up energy that kept you stirring and fidgeting while in the saddle. 

War and Strife lead their valiant, loyal steeds at the firm guidance of their reins, their eyes watch closely as you run ahead of them, playing on the outskirts of the reef of bright yellow, a meadow of flowers that rolls with churning unison in the breeze that calmly sweeps at their backs and tousles your hair messily. 

Eager and bustling with a feeling wholly consuming, you dart into it with a rustled intrusion. Strife and War falter and their pace slows down considerably as they turn their attention to the dusting of petal powder that follows you, head barely visible over the flower horizon. You laugh aloud, palms wound with bandages stretch to embrace the fluttering stalks that tickle against your skin, the adornment of yellow pollen falls to nestle in your hair like a fluffy crown. 

Despite your circumstances, especially the recently transpired events with the angels, you beam with adoration and life, finding the pleasantries of splendor around you. In your eyes you see something that the Horsemen sorely find themselves failing to, though perhaps they try to perceive what it is; how exactly you see the world around you. 

Lands of mystery that allow your mind to expand with broad imagination and hope. Even as they stop, noting the sudden and eerie silence from the meadow, Strife and War charge forward to where you were only to find you seated and enjoying the peaceful atmosphere around you. Your eyes are brightly illuminated under the golden sun that flitters through the valley, occasionally obscured by white and puffy clouds, and the reflective tour of the dusty pollen in your eyes shows your quiet appreciation. 

In your hands with a fond, nurturing care, you absently hold onto a fuzzy stem. Your thumb brushes over the soft petals of the flower, your mind lost in the twirling, brightly colourful abyss above. 

Strife and War follow the invisible thread of your focus, wondering to themselves where exactly you’ve taken yourself into the scape of your thoughts. What is it that you dream and yearn for? Is it the comfort of your homeworld, your family? Do you gaze upwards with aspirations that the weather will hold up and be constantly sunny?

The wind picks up again, whirling as a sprinting breeze that disturbs the meadow into a frenzy and rustles the fabrics of clothing. Realising you are presently under their shadows, your head tilts back and your eyes stare upward. When they meet your curious gaze, a small noise bubbles in your throat, gurgling like a gleeful coo as you nuzzle the flower closer to yourself. 

Something about you radiates, not entirely seeable to them like Vulgrim’s ability to glance through a separate veil within his eyes, but there is most definitely a pulling gravity that both calms and warps the environment around you in a spiritual sense. 

To them, it’s like you’re glowing. The imprint of such divine innocence sitting right before them, a soul that burns brightly with pure and overwhelming light as you bask in the rowing field’s embrace; your soul following the river flow with its circling energy.

Time moves on and so do you and your new guardians. The sunlight begins to wane into a stronger hue of orange that borders on the pinkish smear against the sky’s canvas, warning of the crawling midnight that blacks out and flickers with a million stars. 

“It’ll be getting dark soon,” Strife says, hands resting idly on his hips as he stares out from the shrouded overlook. 

War huffs in response, his eyes moving higher along the skyline with an agreeing nod. “We will need to find her food. She must be hungry…”

“Hm.” Strife’s steel-clawed fingers scratch at the base of his skull, considering what type of food would sustain you. Humans were an interesting sort, the Creator’s youngest and most fledgling of designs. Hunger plays deep into their balance and it’s very likely that with you being so young, going hungry is not healthy for your growth. And so, whilst you played with Mayhem and Ruin, Strife and War scan the grassy plains for any sort of food they could find. 

Strife’s head swivels fast at the fleeting catch of movement. It’s fast whatever it is, but with the right approach, he’s on the hunt with a dagger primed and at the ready. War hears the gentle pitter patter of your boots clubbing the dirt but he doesn’t react, instead watching Strife. Your head moves between the two brothers with a wide grin plastered on your face, eyes blinking rapidly with the sun peeking through the canopy. 

“What he doing?” you ask War as you point at the rider who becomes still for a moment, paused with a hunter’s final poise. 

“He’s hunting,” War answers. You remember very well that your father was a hunter, often returning in the day’s afternoon with a bounty claimed and slung over his shoulder. 

“Ha! Got it!” Strife’s laugh echoes over the rolling hills, carried far on the wind as he wrestles with the startled creature. White like the snow, pink nose twitching as it struggles in vain to escape. 

“Wabbit!” you squeal and begin to run towards Strife, War not too far behind you with each stride matching your speed. Strife meets you halfway, crossing over the slivered, shallow river. He kneels down to your level, grinning behind his mask at the thought that he has done right by you so far in catching you food, for providing for you. 

“How about it? Dinner?” 

In a young one’s age, you must encounter the concept of death, the idea that one life must be taken to sustain another. It was a teaching passed down by the elders of your village. But still, in seeing how the rabbit has gone still in its resigned fear, you shake your head adamantly. 

“M’no.” Your arms reach out and Strife lets you take the rabbit from him, head tilted sideward with a hum of confusion. 

You hold the rabbit in your embrace, cooing and feeling the pristine texture of its fur against your hands that are careful to pat it. Strife’s eyes glow with a rhythmic pulse that follows each breath he takes and leaves. His eyes sink to find the unkindness done to you by the bandages around your bruised and hurt hands; and still your resort to be kind and compassionate overcomes the tears once present in your eyes. 

“But it’s food,” War remarks, tone almost reprimanding though intending to be gentle. “If you let it go, what will you eat?” 

You shake your head again, voice lowered into a near whisper. “Not the wabbit. Not her time.”

You waddle slightly as you walk towards one of the nearby burrows. Strife stands slowly, both are entranced by your moral compass, far too sweet to butcher an animal for your survival; a life for a life. 

“There you go.” You set the rabbit down and let out a small breath through your nose, hands guiding to push the rabbit to move along and within an instant it hops down the swallowing hole of its home. 

“It seems we will need to find another solution.” War doesn’t say much else after that, however, a small quirk of his lips lifts up. He admires the capability of your moral compass, a raw and intune nature of your compassion that shines through you. One day you will most certainly come to understand that a rabbit filling your stomach may go a long way, but he refrains from squandering that aspect of selflessness.

As the last of a species known for violence and carnage, the Horsemen begin to wonder if they can learn a quality brand new from something so small and pure. 

When night finally settles over the realm, Strife and War set to work on securing the camp’s location and lighting a fire. A mere and indulgent comfort for them, but for you it was everything. A source of warmth, a notion of safety and a respite for you to observe and ponder with childish wonderment. 

Having passed through a forgotten orchid that grew with freshly ripe apples, it certainly resolved the matter of filling your belly and you happily fed Ruin and Mayhem their own fill of the treetop delights. The way that Ruin and Mayhem would briefly bump their noses together in order to eat the next apple you presented to them, thanked by their noses and huffing breath pressed against your head, you were soon encouraged to rest by War and Strife. 

Now fast asleep with War’s red cloak wrapped around you, your head rests against the burly stomach of Ruin who lays at your side, providing a source of warmth and simply to remain close at your side. Mayhem occasionally bows his head, his long and armoured neck stretching over Ruin’s backside to flare his nostrils inquisitively at you as if to ensure you were asleep and undisturbed.

Strife and War mind themselves, their eyes always somehow finding their way back to you before they observe your surroundings. There was no possible way a threat could harm you, not with them around. 

“Are we going to talk about it?” Strife asks. He stands rigidly with his back pressed against one of the nearer oaks, arms crossed sternly over his chest and his golden eyes thinning into fine slits the more he dwells on it. 

Every sight of those bandages reminds him, haunts him with a nearly done mistake. Had the angels taken you in, would you even see your home and loved ones again? Strife will forever damn himself for thinking that the angels would do any good by you. He will forever scorn and internally ridicule himself for almost giving you up, for trying to believe that you were safer anywhere else that wasn’t with them. 

He wants to be better. He needs to be better. 

“What is there to say, Brother?” War asks with a shrug of his shoulders, ashen hair dancing over them with the motion. Strife seethes, sarcastically and dryly chuckling, “Oh, plenty! We almost gave her away to those— those…”

“Monsters.”

Strife’s shoulders tense at the word, its meaning carrying a far more personal remark than a broader term. His head falls forward and the golden hue shining through his visor’s pupils dims. 

“Yeah…”

“When she decided against killing that rabbit, she refused to take a life she considered equal to her own. She saw no honour in it.” War pauses while his eyes move from the crackling fire to you, watching as you stir and tug the ragged cloth of his cloak closer and bury your nose into its fabric. Something in his usually stoic case softens. “I saw her for what she is — of what she can become.”

“Better than any of us, that’s for sure.” 

War wishes he can agree wholeheartedly, but he is troubled given the deep furrow between his brows. Strife can see it, a translucent layer that forms over the glistening blue of his eyes.

War sighs low, quietly, “But she is also vulnerable.”

Strife can also understand that sentiment. Not just physically but your very presence incites chaos and other dark forces, drawing them to you without meaning to. It is the unsettling nature of this warfare, the darkness takes hold and snuffs out whatever light it happens upon; uncaring if that power be that of Heaven’s mightiest army or the tender purity of a soul such as yours. 

Powers like Lucifer seek it and its end. 

“She’ll become a marked target, if she isn’t already.” The words in Strife’s throat are dry and constricted. The instinct to curl and fiddle with the triggers of his guns is undeniably strong. 

“And it is up to us to protect her. Come what may, none shall snuff out her light, so long as I breathe and stand as a warrior for the Balance.” “With you all the way there, War. Heaven, Hell and back. I dare them to try.”

[aquamarixx]

Heyy! Glad to see more Fragaria writers. You just coincidentally wrote for some of my favorite characters! Do you have any time to write a fluff continuation of Louterstella’s? Seeing them fumble a bit trying to figure things out would be adorable and much appreciated <3

how love looks like

Louter may not be able to give you all of his heart, but every piece he offers, filled with love, is wholly and undeniably yours.

‎‧₊˚✧ TURNING POINT 2025 ENTRY ✧˚₊‧ pairing louterstella x reader word count 1.3k words tags shifting stars afterstory, hurt/comfort, sweet ending navigation

Nothing stings quite like the silent treatment. That’s what you think as you sit in the warm, fragrant ambiance of the apothecary. The scent of dried herbs and flowers doesn’t soften the ice-cold distance between you and Louterstella.

People always said Klark, his younger twin, was the ice queen. But they’re wrong. It’s Louter. His words, when he chooses to speak, are as distant as the stars. You reach for him, but your words dissolve, like whispers stolen by the wind, never finding their way to him.

You’re not sure when it started. Like mold creeping into the corners of a room, you only noticed it when the cracks began to show.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Louter’s voice cuts through the stillness, snapping you out of your thoughts. His eyes are on you, the faintest crease of concern visible in his brows.

“I—uh...” You look for an excuse, not ready to confront the tension between you. “You haven’t touched your tea.”

The words “Did I do something wrong?” hover at the edge of your tongue, bitter and heavy. But you don’t let them escape. Not yet.

Louter exhales and rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry. I’ve just… There’s been a lot on my mind.”

You nod, unsure how to bridge the gap he’s created. The alliance has consumed his time lately, leaving little room for the quiet moments you used to share. Gone are the days when he could leisurely stroll through town to visit you, his sanctuary. Now, your apothecary feels more like a place he passes through than a refuge.

As Louter glances around the shop, his expression grows distant. Blue Bouquet members like Willmesh, Kurode, and Myunna have become regulars here, often stopping by whenever they’re in the kingdom.

Even Klark seems to have taken a liking to the place. Louter has come to accept that your apothecary—and you—are no longer exclusively his. Sometimes, he likes watching how you interact with others, how seamlessly you fit into the other side of his world. But other times, it gnaws at him, especially when someone gets too close for his liking.

Willmesh, for example, talks a lot when he’s around you. Maybe it’s your approachable nature. But Louter can’t ignore the way Willmesh’s eyes linger on you or the easy smiles you exchange. It grates on him, this unspoken, undefined jealousy.

As Louter rants—calmly but with an edge of exasperation—about how his responsibilities have multiplied, something shatters. The sharp sound startles both of you, and you spring to your feet to help Myunna and Willmesh clean up the broken glass.

Willmesh crouches beside you, his fingers brushing yours as you both reach for the shards. He apologizes, but you wave it off with a reassuring smile. “It’s fine. Really.”

Louter’s jaw tightens. He shouldn’t feel this way, he tells himself. There’s no label on what the two of you share, no claim or stake that gives him the right to feel possessive. But logic doesn’t dull the sharp edge of his frustration.

When the others finally leave, the silence between you and Louter feels heavier than ever. You turn to him, forcing yourself to speak.

“Is there something wrong?” you ask, your voice quiet but steady.

“Nothing,” he replies, too quickly.

You step closer, taking his hand in yours. It’s warm, and for a moment, Louter thinks about how your touch used to be enough to anchor him. But not now. He pulls his hand away, the motion abrupt and unkind.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, startled by his reaction.

Why are you apologizing? The thought flashes through Louter’s mind, sharp and cutting. He’s the one in the wrong. He’s the one who can’t sort through the mess of his own emotions.

But instead of speaking, instead of staying, Louter storms out, leaving you alone in the heavy quiet of the apothecary.

He should have said something. But how could he, without sounding so utterly pathetic?

Louter feels caught at a crossroads, torn between his duties as a Knight of Fragaria and the love he holds for you—someone he’s sworn to protect, to care for, to treasure. It’s a constant battle to suppress the selfish desire to ask for all your love, affection, and understanding, knowing full well he can’t even offer half of his heart in return.

It feels impossible to compartmentalize his feelings for you amidst his responsibilities. His kingdom, his lord and Klark all demands devotion—and then there’s you. You, who give so much of yourself to him, and he can barely find the time to stand still long enough to hold you in his arms.

And yet, he dares to get jealous. He worries someone else might come along, someone who could give you the things that he can’t. Because, in his eyes, you deserve the world.

But that’s the irony of it all—he’s out there trying to protect that very world. For his kingdom. For his lord. For his brother. For you. He just doesn’t know how to show you that, how to make you understand that every sacrifice he makes is for you too.

Your letters sit on his desk. In them, you ask if he’s okay, if there’s something troubling him. You tell him you’re here for him, that you want to talk and work through whatever’s between you. But instead of answering, he throws himself into a different kind of labor.

For a week, Louter spends every spare moment with Klark crafting a music box. He doesn’t have a knack for machinery like his younger twin, and his fumbling efforts make Klark laugh at first. But his determination never wavers.

Late into the nights, he works. His fingers sore, his mind exhausted, until the music box finally takes shape. It’s his way of saying the things he can’t put into words, of reaching across the distance he’s allowed to grow between you.

When it’s finished, Klark smiles, both proud and impressed by his brother’s devotion.

And so, with the music box tucked carefully under his arm, Louter runs through the streets. The apothecary is almost closed when the doorbell jingles. You glance up from where you’re tidying the counter, startled by the sight of a breathless Louter, his hands on his knees as he struggles to catch his breath.

“Louter?” you ask, stepping toward him, concern laced in your voice.

He raises a hand to stop you, setting the music box carefully on the table. He flicks off the lights before you can protest, and then he winds the box and lets it play.

A soft, serene melody fills the shop, and as it plays, stars begin to project onto the ceiling. The night sky comes alive above you—constellations, galaxies, a world of light and wonder that seems impossibly vast and beautiful.

You’re transfixed, your eyes wide with awe. Louter steps closer, gently taking your hand and placing it on his shoulder. His hands settle lightly at your waist, guiding you into a slow dance beneath the stars.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. His voice is soft, but the weight of his emotions is clear. He tells you everything—the worries that consume him, the selfish thoughts he battles, the guilt of giving you so little while you offer him so much. He admits that this, this music box, this projection of the stars, is the best he can give you right now. He promises you the world—not just for his kingdom or his brother, but for you, so you can live and love freely, without fear, without limits.

“It’s complicated,” he says, his voice trembling. “Not having labels… not knowing what the future holds. But I promise to love you with all the love I can give, if you’ll still take me.”

You laugh softly, leaning into him, your body flush against his as you sway to the gentle melody.

“I’ve never asked for anything in return for the love I give you,” you say, your voice quiet. You sound, for a moment, like a knight yourself.

“So if this is how love looks like for you, then I’m all yours, Louterstella.”

You tiptoe, pressing a kiss to his lips, slow dancing to soft melody of his love and under the shimmer of the night sky.

amari's notes: i just realized how shit i am in writing fluff for fragmem, especially for the twins huhu. when you said fumble, all of my hurt/comfort thoughts filled my head. i still hope you like it, anon! thank you for the request! but i definitely love writing this one, i love giving nuanced characterizations to the knights, especially to the stella twins. anyway, I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a reply or drop an ask or even a request! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[dharmas-spam]

In wake of recent events and allegations against Neil Gaiman, I would like to release a statement that I know no one asked for. Because I have not been doing very well as of late, and this was the cherry on the shit sundae.

I hope you all understand that, in doing so, I do not mean to take away any attention from the victims. I just have to get this off my chest and clear the air I feel is polluted at the moment.

Here's my long-winded timeline of my interaction with Gaiman's work. Underneath will be my statement on these allegations and what I will be doing moving forward.

I first got into Neil Gaiman's work in June-July of 2021, around my birthday, although I had seen some of his work unknowingly over the years.

I will never forget the first time I watched Good Omens, and I will never forget the joy it made me feel from the first few frames. I finished the show soon after. The message of the beauty in individuality and the inherent neutrality of humanity made me feel hopeful for the first time in a while.

I read the book in October 2021 and was officially hooked. I started engaging in the fandom and found a place online where I felt wholly accepted. I made fanart, read/wrote fanworks, etc.

I then expanded my Gaiman-Verse knowledge in April 2022 and began reading American Gods, Anansi Boys, Trigger Warning, etc...and found great inspiration and solace in these works as well.

On August 5th, 2022, I watched Sandman the morning it released on Netflix, beyond excited, and then bought one of the large books with the first few comics complied inside after finishing the show.

My love for The Sandman universe only grew, and I gained new outlooks on life inside the character's words and actions. Death of The Endless and Hob Gadling were two characters that helped me better understand how to truly appreciate the world around me and the time I am blessed to have in it.

I received the full collection of The Sandman comics for Christmas 2022 and nearly cried with elation. I read through them like a beast and was given more of the extended works in the series (like Death's solo comic) later that same holiday. I was also given The Ocean At The End Of The Lane, and finished it in two days flat. I loved Mrs. Hempstock and her words on humanity.

As time passed, my passion for Gaiman's literature/media didn't waver.

I started dating my partner on June 1st, 2023, and Gaiman's work was part of what helped us bond, in addition to our already-lovely chemistry.

The EVERY kiss spoiler leaked and sobbed with excitement, lol.

Good Omens S2 was set to be released a few days after my birthday. However, I was very sick on my birthday and was rather miserable.

My parents went out of their way to make me Good Omens cupcakes in secret, and it was one of my best birthdays, purely because my father put in the effort to design them, despite my never letting him watch the show (which has since been amended).

That Christmas, I was given quite a bit of Good Omens and Sandman merchandise and started growing my collection of copies of Good Omens.

On April 25th, 2024, I watched Dead Boy Detectives the day it released, having been excited for it since November 2023, and found another media in the Gaiman-Verse that I adored and saw myself in.

Flash forward to tonight, July 4th, 2024, and I am devastated.

I spent the majority of my teen years consuming Gaiman's content and engaging in the fandoms. During the time, I found true happiness and felt comfortable in my identity, and I refuse to lie and say my self-discovery was not aided by the media he created.

I know this is not about me, but about the victims, and I know the allegations have been brought to light by many shady news sources, but I must finish my piece with this:

When J.K Rowling exposed herself as a TERF, I had not realized I was queer yet, but I was still deeply disturbed for reasons unknown to me. I separated the art from the artist, as I had loved Harry Potter since I was seven, and it was a way my mother and I bonded during hard times. It also helped me get through the height of quarantine and the horrors of puberty.

When I discovered Gaiman's work and the fandoms his work's inspired, I felt relieved: here was a white cishet person who cared for minorities and who created media for minorities.

If the allegations are true (which they likely are), it turns out my hero doesn't deserve his cape.

I will do as I did with J.K Rowling, with a much heavier heart. The fans deserve the joy and inclusion Gaiman's work has created, even if he himself is vile. I will continue to consume his work indirectly and in no support to him.

I encourage everyone in the fandom to stay calm during this time.

It is okay to be angry, sad, and confused. However, it is not okay to ignore the allegations altogether or the trauma these women have experienced at the hands of Gaiman.

This fandom is a safe space for many people, and I beg that it will remain that way.

I send out much love to the women who were hurt, and I hope you both find contentment.

[codename-adler]

WIP Game: aftg television soundtrack project

I love everything going on with this, just constantly imagining it in my head with different lines and scenes and everything 💖💖💖

my beloved, beloved insane project... i've already spoken about this here and there on my blog (i will organize a tag now that i think about it, dw), but in short i'm imagining AftG as if it were adapted as a TV series (first it was films, but i can do more with a show, and HBO TLoU changed me as a person and writer). it was 3 seasons, one for each book, but i've added a 4th season for TSC, and will add another one or 2 depending on how many more books Nora Sakavic blesses us with.

what i did was, i extracted the most impactful scenes from each book, those that would fit a soundtrack moment. i've created a sort of PowerPoint presentation, like a mood board for the scene, of how i'm picturing it shot, the angles, the pace, the tempo, etc. it is very, very clear in my head how everything goes. i'm not kidding. making playlists is my passion, and one i excel at i believe, but it brings me so much joy, pride and satisfaction. it's also really good for my mental. in parallel to this, i've also got the aftg x tlou project, which was wholly inspired by @cielalune 's own Andreil tlou AU fic turn out the lights, which i will NEVER shut up about. i have found a true kinship in their writing and musicality and i will forever be grateful for finding them and getting to exchange. all this to say, the playlist-making/planning for that fic is very time-consuming and brain-obsessing.

now back to the purely soundtracked wip. i'll share one of the first scenes i imagined and that has yet to change. this is for you too @minyard-05 <3

All for the Game (S2): The Raven King

"Betsy closed the door behind them. Neil could just make out the sound of her engine starting, and then it was quiet. Andrew was gone." (p. 255)

the slide currently looks like this as i haven't gotten to editing S2 of the project, but rest assured this is in no way the final look:

i'm going for a sort of echo-y, daze-y, numbing eulogy. TFC ends with Seth's death, and in a way, TRK ends with Andrew's. luckily it is a good "death" as he will come out of this freer, himself, accepted. but it is a death nonetheless. death of his past. a point of no return. a definite cross on all of it. no going back. and he also cannot bury this under his skin like before. over it. it's all in plain sight now. for as unapologetic as he is, Andrew was hiding.

Neil loses his best friend. Neil reckons with another's demons, and loses to them, loses him to them. That closing door rings the gong. And it's quiet. As manic as he may have been, Andrew was never noisy and full of life. Still he is missed. His absence is an abyss. It's not peaceful without the "monster"; it's deafening silence.

and the title of the song, too, is so perfect. Andrew leaving Neil behind that closed door, in that moment, means he is letting go of what he thinks is a hallucination. Neil will only be a memory now. he does not know yet Neil isn't a pipedream at all.

but both men will hold on to the memory of each other to survive what comes next.

[bigdreamsandwildthings]

Review: The Bright Sword (Lev Grossman)

Rating: ★★★★/5

“Stories never really ended, they just rolled one into the next. The past was never wholly lost, and the future was never quite found. We wander forever in a pathless forest, dropping with weariness, as home draws us back, and the grail draws us on, and we never arrive, and the quest never ends. Till the Last Day, and maybe not even then. Who knows what stories they tell in Heaven.”

This was a heck of a journey, with so many little side quests and things going on and history to absorb.

Collum has always dreamed of being a Knight of the Round Table. His adolescence has been rough, and at the first chance he gets, he sets out from the Out Isles for Camelot, sure that his destiny awaits there. And sure enough, it does, but the road will be anything but easy, and Camelot will be nothing like he expects, for King Arthur is dead, and the future of Britain is uneasy.

I have never felt a really intense pull towards King Arthur and the stories of Camelot, but like anyone, they've been a part of the media I've consumed for my entire life. I always enjoy the stories, but I don't have a super deep understanding of the lore. This book, and the historical note at the end, made me curious about it, more so than any other book or show or movie ever has. It made me want to know what the *real* story was, even knowing that there really isn't one, that Arthur is a legend that has morphed and changed over time so much that we can never really know what reality was.

The format of this one is really fun and, despite its high page count, made it feel like a quicker read. I absolutely LOVED learning about the knights and their stories, how they came to be who they are, and why they make the decisions they do in Collum's time. Nimue was a highlight for me, as was Palomides, and though I really enjoyed Collum's story too, it was those interspersed short stories that kept me reading.

I also felt like I could sense the Magicians in certain ways that this was written. Collum has a lot of little side things happen, and especially when he spends a year down the well, all I could think of was Quentin and Eliot. I loved that part of things, because it just shows that Lev can write pretty much anything and infuse it with that same heart and quirkiness and depth of character.

The meandering nature of the story + the high page count are the only thing that keep me from giving it a full 5 stars. I really enjoyed it, don't get me wrong, but it just didn't reach that level of fave for me. I think anyone who's a King Arthur buff should pick this up, and it will undoubtedly stick with me; I won't be able to read anything else about Camelot or Arthur without thinking of this tome.

[thedawningofthehour]

I don't know how you do the hurt/comfort so well in the book even though it is really messed up.

One example is the chapter 5 in the botanist portion. Specifically the eating the orange section and the “you know what my fathers work is.” hopefully I quote that correctly.

But when I am writing I can hurt but comfort is difficult. Like I feel like I do good with hurt no comfort fics. But I don't usually like those fics.

Ironically, that scene was supposed to have minimal angst lol, they were there so I could show Gale infodumping about plants and let Raph have a swim. Which is why I have Gale cut away when the conversation gets too heavy-that's not the purpose of the passage.

I think something a lot of people get hung up on is trying to do EVERYTHING. They want to acknowledge every injustice, represent every kind of person, explore the entirety of someone's character and trauma or whatever in one scene. (I could write a paper on the new trend of having eight-episode shows and allowing every plot point and character exactly two seconds of exposition because that's all the screentime they can get when the studio wants an epic told in the length of a novella and how this is affecting people's expectations for how storytelling should be done, but my oven timer just went off and I'm gonna eat soon) The thing you have to remember, nothing can be everything. You have to specialize at least a little bit or your ocean of storytelling becomes a wide puddle of meh.

One thing I ask myself is what is the goal here? What are the themes that I want to get across in this scene? Do they work with each other or is it jarring for the reader? What do you want the reader to take away from this? The scene in the first chapter where Draxum and Gale are doing Raph's intake exam, part of it's just exposition and me dumping background information and psuedo-science on the audience. But it's also meant to show how Draxum interacts with Raphael now that he's an ally, and show Raph how Draxum and Gale typically interact with each other. The scene with Gale taking out the explosive charge in Raph's collar is meant to highlight how very much Donnie Gale still is, how he isn't entirely obedient to Draxum and does what he does because he genuinely believes in what he's doing-and likewise, he doesn't believe Raph should be here if he doesn't believe in their goals.

The greenery scene is meant to show Raph's pre-conceived notions of who Draxum is being challenged. He sees Draxum as wholly evil, whose only goal is to do bad, like the villain of a cheap 80s Saturday morning cartoon. So far he's rejected every suggestion that Draxum has genuinely positive intentions and goals besides destruction, that might have a point even if he's going about it the wrong way. Seeing that Draxum grows fruit, that a major area of study for him is agriculture cultivation-food has traditionally been a symbol of life, peace, support, so the fact that Draxum is a horticulturist challenges the image of heartless, evil Draxum that Raph has built up in his head.

But at the same time, in the same place where he grows oranges lovingly cultivated to provide nutrition for the people who will consume them, there's poison meant to kill. It shows the depth of Draxum's intentions and the full breadth of his actions, that he wants to help life thrive but will not hesitate to take life if necessary. And Raph is also coming to terms with what he was created for, what his purpose in life was supposed to be and how he's playing into it now. He wasn't just a weapon, he was a sword meant to be wielded along with a shield. He was made to kill, and Raph doesn't agree with that-but he doesn't wholly disagree with the logic that led Draxum there. And he's very unnerved by that.

Another thing, the actual storytelling is definitely important but don't forget-it's secondary. Your real priority is manipulating the reader into feeling things against their will. You can have a completely shit story and get by if it's told entertainingly or if it made people cry. The most interesting plotline will still be a slog to get through if it's boring. You're trying to write like Donnie, but you gotta be a Leo first and foremost.

[pliablehead]

Heyo, what do you consider the top 5 must-watch EE interviews???

I AM SORRY I TOOK SO LONG TO ANSWER THIS and I think it's because I really don't have a proper answer!! So much of my deep dive into EE was done in one long hyperfixation spiral back when I was first getting fangirl-level into them, a good 6 or 7 years ago, and so I'm running into the problem of most of the interview content I've consumed all sort of homogenizing into one sort of blur of Lore that I've internalized and I am not doing a great job at separating out into its individual components! So, that said, the following list is probably not in line with what I'd actually ultimately believe to be the best, most crucial ones--it's just the ones my brain can call to mind at the moment. lol. BUT HERE ARE SOME:

serious/insightful: • Jon and Alex for Tape Notes podcast. (so not a must-watch so much as a much-listen, but there are a few individual clips from this on youtube in video form as well I believe.) RDF is my favorite EE album and I thought this was a hugely interesting look into their writing process and also had a bunch of cool personal stuff in it! Plus, I think it's a very good look at who the band are, like, "now" -- there's a lot of great content around from MA up through GTH, but by the time they were on album 4 and all like, 30+, and especially once covid hit and sort of changed the trajectory of like.. bands, in general, I feel like it's just been a different animal re: regular interviews etc. • this 2013 3-parter with Jonathan. It's been ages since I watched it but I remembered it almost immediately, and for some reason I'm remembering it as an oddly vulnerable Jon moment. just talking about things. (more good band lore! etc.)

funny/meme-y: • Mike and Jez at Isle of Wight. Unlike many others, I could not possibly count how many times I have rewatched this, and it is funny every time. The interviewer is a buffoon asking totally clueless questions and Jez is having absolutely none of it, he's just chomping his chewing gum the entire time, Mike's doing his best, it destroys me. • Mike and Jez look at memes. Less interview-y and more just #content but whoever edited this video did a TOP NOTCH JOB and it's one I often show to not-in-this-fanbase friends that can still be a fun look at the band and a good laff. • This very sweet one with Alex and Mike being interviewed by a literal child. Contains the infamous "Jeremy, and yes," which is one of my most quoted EE-related sentences ever • this Man Alive track-by-track, also audio only.. the BITS that Jon and Alex are doing. truly incredible stuff

just lads having a nice time :) : • the CAPSLOCK ON talkback - lots of pleasant band and lyric insight, and a great Jez cheese moment at the end • this livestream dot com session is some performing but some Q&Aing, so not really an interview proper, but the energy in the room is delightful alskdghj

other noteworthy bodies of work: • anything with Andy Backhouse. I'll be the first to admit that Andy can grate my nerves sometimes, he often feels annoyingly a little too simp-y or something, but the other side of that coin is that as a huge fan of the band he actually does always ask them questions that are like, Real, he Gets them, so it's guaranteed to be a notch up from just random music journos who are engaging with them on a more surface industry level. Nothing is more frustrating than watching an EE interview where the interviewer just so blatantly doesn't "get" EE's whole deal and doesn't know how to interface. Andy never has that problem ! • any episode of Chips of Chorlton that features them (I think Jon's been on twice and Jeremy once). Dutch Uncles are their friends and hearing them all shoot the shit in an extremely comfortable environment is suuuuch a pleasant and wholly different experience than when the lads are being Professional Music Band guys, even when the latter still consists of them doing fairly goofy things

A VERY LONGWINDED AND NOT ESPECIALLY COMPREHENSIVE ANSWER ?? !!!!! Ultimately I think I was the wrong man for the job. @hellkitepriest has way more of an archivist's nature sort of just intrinsically than I do, he can probably do a better and less ridiculous job akjdshglak