#to see so many people just do the thing they do without getting to a final product

[kittyfrisk9]

IdeaDpxDc: A nice moment with a sleep demon.

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

Dead On Main.

---

Danny accidentally absorbed some of Nocturn's powers (like in the Vortex episode), and now, with these new temporary abilities, why not take advantage of them? Like a kid with a new toy, Danny (or should I say Phantom: with a new design) has fun every night going from dream to dream.

The dream world is so strange! Without the constant threat of a dream entity trying to take over the world and all that. Now he has fun exploring the most unusual parts of his classmates' subconscious, or anyone's in general.

Even though he knows he shouldn't be doing this (after all, he's a responsible adult now), spying on other people's dreams isn't exactly something a mature person would do.

On the other hand, Danny is the responsible adult; Phantom is the one who uses his new powers recklessly. Plus, no one in Gotham knows who Phantom is, and at the end of the day, he's not hurting anyone. Point in his favor!

It was all fun and games… until he felt it: the unpleasant taste of a nightmare, distressing and desperate. Phantom knows he has to intervene, because, unlike Nocturn, he does not delight in the suffering of others.

So he goes. And what he sees shocks him.

Resonant laughter of a psychopath, the constant pain of flesh being beaten, and the devastating reminder that no one came to help. Phantom doesn't just see it, he feels it. Gross. What is this? Why would anyone be hurting a child? Then he understands: this is not just a nightmare, it's a memory, and someone is suffering from reliving it.

He absolutely will not allow this nightmare to continue.

...

Jason hasn't been having good days lately, mostly because instead of going to therapy, he's chosen to sweep his trauma under the rug and aggressively throw himself into crime-fighting. He's not good at dealing with his emotions, especially when he's been tormented by the same damn nightmare over and over again.

He knows the script by heart, he knows how it will end, but he still feels the same fear as the first time.

His head hurts.

"No, not again," he thinks in terror. Once again, he's tied up, unable to move or call for help. It's colder than he remembers. The walls have a grotesque tint, with laughter written in every corner. But the worst thing is the silence… until the sound of clashing metal begins to resonate.

Everything is a thousand times worse. He's sure the original scenario wasn't like this, but his terrified mind refuses to accept it.

The metallic sound resonates louder, each crash rumbling in Jason's chest. His breathing quickens, and then he hears it: that laugh.

A deep, distorted echo of laughter that seems to come from every direction. The laughter snakes around the grotesque walls, filled with the same letters that repeat his agony. “Ha… ha… ha…” fills the air, louder with each invisible step that approaches.

Then, he appears.

It’s not the Joker he remembers from that fateful night. This one is worse. Bigger, more deformed, with a smile that seems to tear at his own face. The colors of his suit are darker, more twisted. It’s as if his mind has amplified him, made him more monstrous.

“My, my, how little Robin has grown? But… something remains the same, doesn’t it? No matter how many times you live it, it always ends the same way. And to think that you were my greatest work of art!”

His voice is mocking, but behind the mockery is pure cruelty, a wicked amusement that lights up in those crazy eyes.

The Joker leans towards Jason, his face invading the small distance between them. The sound of metal continues to echo, and Jason knows what's coming next.

"Oh, I almost forgot…" he says, pulling out of nowhere an iron crowbar that gleams in the dim light of the nightmare. "It wouldn't be a good memory without this, would it?"

That's when the pain begins. Jason doesn't want to scream, and he won't. Even though that abominable creature is just a representation of his killer, he won't give him the luxury of listening to him suffer. The blows continue, and Jason bites his tongue. It's just a nightmare, it's not real… it's not real.

It's not real.

It's not real.

It's not-

"Hey… Are you okay?" he hears him ask. His shocked gaze turns to where the clown should be and discovers that he's gone. In his place, there's a handsome young man: short, slightly messy black hair, expressive purple eyes, and a body almost completely shrouded in dark shadows.

The mysterious man had a cosmic air about him, surrounded by a mix of special effects of stars and galaxies. Something magical.

And new.

Jason honestly doesn't know what he's seeing, or why he's seeing it. "What?" he says, unable to find another word to describe his situation.

The entity laughs at his stunned state, a reassuring echo very different from the joker's laughter. Then he snaps his fingers, and suddenly he's no longer in that ugly room. He's now in a field of flowers, beautiful and vibrant, looking out at a starry sky.

Okay, this is the part where he asks his brain how he went from being in a nightmare to being with a handsome guy under the stars, hands free and untethered.

"Relax, you're not crazy," the being says as he lies back in the grass. “You were in pain, and I didn’t like it, so I got you out of there. Don’t worry, that abomination won’t bother you again.”

Jason blinks twice, bewildered, not understanding anything. “You… saved me?”

“You could say yes.”

“Why?” He shakes his head. “No, wait, that’s not the question. Who…?” Looking back at the being, he decides to change his question: “What are you?”

He seems to have taken the being by surprise.

It clasps its hands together as it looks up at the sky, trying to act normal. Jason narrows his eyes. “You can call me Void.”

“Did you just make up that name?”

The being looks away, seemingly embarrassed at being found out. “Yeah…” And suddenly exclaims, “Ah, ancients! I'm not supposed to be doing this, much less with one of the bats."

That last sentence had given away more than it should have.

"Hey, how about we admire the night view and then pretend this never happened?" Void suggested with a hopeful smile, turning to Jason.

Maybe it was the soft scent of the flowers, the calm atmosphere, or just the tiredness after so many nights of endless nightmares, but Jason, without thinking too much about it, walked over, lay down next to Void on the grass, and said, "No."

He needed a break.

...

And that's how Jason befriended a dream demon. And how Danny pretended to be a dream demon until Nocturn's powers wore off. He couldn't let the bats find out his identity.

After that, they spent more time together, fell in love, there was drama and there was closure. In the middle of all that, Danny started having tea with Alfred in the dream world, and at other times, he had fun bothering the other bats in their dreams.

But that's another story.

---

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

[tender-rosiey]

maybe jelly — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: gojo getting jealous? 👁️👁️

you arrive at jujutsu high, as you prepare for your guest lecture. you’ve given these talks before, but this time, something feels a little different—satoru is acting strange.

not that he’s ever normal, but today he seems extra…dramatic.

“you’re going to kill it, babe,” satoru says, draping his arm over your shoulders as you walk toward the classroom. his blindfold hides his eyes, but you can feel the intensity of his gaze, more focused than usual.

“you okay?” you ask, glancing at him with a teasing grin. “you seem a little... off.”

“me? off? never,” he replies, lips pulling into his trademark smirk. “just making sure no one gets too cozy with my brilliant wife. gotta make sure these kids remember you’re taken.”

you roll your eyes playfully, “I think everybody and their mother know that, satoru.”

time passes by, and now, you stand at the front of the lecture hall at jujutsu high, wrapping up your talk.

the students seem genuinely engaged, and one in particular, a young sorcerer named ren, is practically bouncing with enthusiasm, asking follow-up questions.

“and how did you manage to seal that curse without any physical confrontation?” ren asks, his voice brimming with admiration and curiosity.

before you could respond, satoru appears at your side with his usual confidence, his presence instantly commanding attention, “well, she is the wife of the gojo satoru. kinda comes with the territory,” he interjects, flashing his signature grin.

you shoot him an exasperated look, “I’m pretty sure my skills had something to do with it.”

satoru leans in close, nuzzling against your cheek affectionately before pulling back slightly. “oh, of course, sweetheart. you’re amazing, but it doesn’t hurt to be married to the strongest sorcerer around, right?”

ren blinks, clearly caught off guard by the interaction.

he glances between you and satoru, his expression a mix of confusion and awe. “I wasn’t aware you were married,” he mutters, his gaze flickering between you and satoru as if trying to process this new information.

you smile and give satoru a jab into his ribs that he takes like a champ, “yeah, he likes to remind people. it’s kind of his thing.”

satoru, never one to miss an opportunity to make a grand statement, leans down and places a soft kiss on the top of your head.

his arm slips casually around your waist, “just keeping things clear. y'know, in case anyone forgets that I get the honor of calling you mine.”

ren tries to steer the conversation back to his question, “so, about the sealing technique…”

satoru cuts him off again, stepping slightly in front of you with a playful yet firm stance.

“hey, hey, let’s not bombard her with too many questions now. she’s been on her feet alllll day, talking about all the cool stuff she’s done and showing everybody just how badass she is.”

you roll your eyes but can’t suppress a small smile. stepping around him to face ren again, you continue, “ignore him. the technique I used requires focusing on—”

satoru clears his throat dramatically, pulling you back to his side and wrapping his arm around your shoulders, eyes boring into the poor boy even through his blindfold.

“you know what I think? I think my lovely wife deserves a break. maybe some alone time with her handsome, strong, and incredibly talented husband?”

you raise an eyebrow at him, your tone teasing. “handsome and humble, I see.”

satoru’s grin widens, and he leans down to whisper in your ear, “I can be both when it comes to you.”

you are about to retort back, but then you remember that ren is still here.

you turn to the boy with a smile and assure him, “anyway, ren, if you want to chat more about techniques, we can catch up later. after my husband gets over himself,” you hiss at the man who raises his hands in surrender.

ren, now visibly flustered and unsure, mumbled, “uh, I’ll… catch up with you later then. thanks for the talk!”

ren dashes out the room, slamming the door behind him. you tap your feet against the ground for a few minutes, before you elbow satoru again.

he stays standing up, chest puffed out and a big grin plastered on his face. you deadpan as you stare at your husband, “you really couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

satoru shrugs nonchalantly, still holding you close. he hums, giving you a kiss on the forehead, “what can I say? I don’t like sharing. besides, you are the wife of the strongest sorcerer; it’s important to make sure that’s clear.”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help but smile helplessly at your husband. your fingers find their way through his hair making him instantly melt. you giggle at your puddle of a husband, “you’re so lucky I love you.”

he tilts his head slightly, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “I love you more, soooooooooooo—”

“oh my god, I get it,” you laugh as you try to push him off. he resists with a whine as he nuzzles his face into your shoulder. you yield and let the silence fill the room.

he hums softly as you both sway mindlessly.

“but y’know,” you pull back slightly, smiling up at him, “you really do like to make an impression.”

he chuckles, his eyes twinkling with a mix of pride and mischief, “just doing my part to ensure everyone knows how lucky I am and how lucky they should feel to be in the presence of my extraordinary wife.”

he intertwines your left hands together and raises them slightly, showing off the rings. the sun makes them shine quite brightly, and it makes you sigh with a smile and satoru let out a huff of laughter.

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize

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[rose-maidenn]

🌬PAC : Your most appealing sensual qualities :-

Pile 1 :

Hii loves how are you doing?

For you I get that you know exactly how to make a person wait for something be it , your attention, your favours or your time , I get the word void for you , staying with you puts people in a state or rest or in a new world it's like you surround them with maya , it's so beautiful, be it is case of friendships or relationships you show people how worthy you are , ik nowadays how people admire nonchalance but most have got it all wrong , your way is beautiful you know how to read the room and gives them the exact amount of attention .

The way you brush your hairs in the middle of the conversation from your face is very attractive , people see your hair for hair inspo btw it's very voluminous and shiny , you remind me of the old celtic women with wavy hair, such beauty .

Moreover people really like when you wear clothes showing your waist and the way you move is very attractive it's hypnotic even , I won't be shocked if you said you learn dance because girl you're attracting the attention damn .

You're one of those people who attract attention without saying much and that is so so rare and you embody rare how stunning are youuu!!!!!!

Pile 2 :

Heyyy ,how's everything going ?

Your eyes damn those eyes , you know that they kill and you use them well angel . Your hands are very observed by other people the movement of your hands , your nails , I will not be shocked if you said you learnt mudras or reiki . I think you can easily read people's energy just by touching them. Wanna know something honey you need to be really careful about the things you say because you easily manifest . I wish all the good comes to you.

Your diction and hold on various languages and accent is very admired , the way you pronounce and the certain raspy tone to your voice is very sensual to most people it's like you're luring them in . Your anger Is so admired by many people because there's a way you fight for the causes the passion is seen in your actions and that is so attractive .

People are in awe of your thinghs I'm not even kidding , they imagine sleeping on them , they would like to see you in a sexy garter belt like damn , your skin is super shiny as well , random but I remembered coco oil by victoria's secret , maybe you should try that , your soft skin is adored by many people .

You have a luminous glow to yourself like the moon , I can't describe well but it's beautiful you're like a old Hollywood glamour queen , damn your auraaaaaa!!!!!!

Thank you so much for reading🫶✨️ , dm me if you wanna book with me 🎀 kiss kiss ♥️

[missfertileandferal]

lowkey super anxious to post this but im missing you guys so much <3

i plan on a solid return soon! i just wanted to get off my chest whats been going on:

Earlier this year, I dealt with an awful situation of my kinky stuff leaking into real life. My insane coworkers found my content and as I was serving on the clock, proceeded to show my customers and all the staff. then i was fired. Im traumatized to say the least but I over came it.

Come mid summer, I planned so step back for a little bit to move apartments no more than a couple weeks. What happened was both my job (i worked with close family friends so stressful) and a really bad situation with a companion found about my kink stuff. i never expected or was prepared for the humiliation, deception, and pain that would come from my fetish journey

My last job was such a loss. I had been blessed with a cute job as a medical office assistant without any credentials (i wasnt doing anything out of my capabilities of course) it was so peaceful and perfect compared to the drama of my last gig plus working with familiar people felt just like home honestly. Then I got covid. I was out for 2 weeks, at the same time i was moving into my new place. I tried calling them back to let them know I was cleared and ready to get back to work. I received a humiliating text. I was dismissed. That turned into a crippling anxiety of them confessing to my family what I do in my past time

The following week I was met with more disappointment. Ive said this before but I dont have many people in my corner. It used to suck to admit but I stand with pride now knowing those who are around me love me 100% regardless what I do or dont do.

One of my dearest dearest friends, who I had previously communicated what I do (not to a full extent they always respected it) called me very dramatically only a week before I planned to see them (they live across the country and we ALWAYS visit each other when in our cities) It still doesnt feel real tbh, the call only last 40 seconds. I was informed that “I was going on the wrong path” and could no longer be associated with. That’s alls that happened. 8 years down the drain

I was informed by outside sources that my hometown opps had gotten hold of my content (who my ex friend still associate with but I despise bc they’ve always been obsessed with me but in a bad way) and they had confronted him about being my friend. he pussied out and cut me off. they also mass reported my last instagram account😡🤬

I had to take some time back to seriously debate if these loses were worth it. I was swallowed with so much anxiety knowing that an uncomfortable amount of people in my zip code knew what ive been up to. its already complicated being into this and while at the same time not being in a plus size body. thats another conversation tho

That debate has turned into me accepting these events as the universe weeding out people/things that no longer serve me. This has shown peoples true colors, if I am not to be associated with because of my sexual freedom, body acceptance, and undoing of fat phobia then PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE.

Im recovering ❤️‍🩹 but my heart and hedonism can’t be helped. i love being a kinky lil gut slut. its helped me grow in so many ways from acceptance to living an esoteric dreamy life. i love all the hot girls and guys that i see on my timeline. they hype me up and vise versa. i love this little corner of the internet. my fellow freaks keep me going. i’ve been so on and off online but every time i come back to the sweetest words and support. thank you guys for your patience and consideration

my anxiety is to the roof as im typing. its crazy that these privacy problems havent been within the actual community. funny. if your still reading this I love you extra. ill be streaming on ig on my comeback day!

new ig acc @missfertileandferal💘

[dragonsholygrail]

gimme a loving monster husband harem that loves me for me and won't get angry or disappointed when I suck at life please.

I went like super high-fantasy with this. If you’d like a different version lemme know but this is the brainrot speaking for me right now lmao

You groan, putting your head in your hands from the stress you’ve been going through for the past few days, weeks, or was it months? You didn’t know anymore but you were so tired.

Your Monster Harem surrounds you, providing comfort where they can. Your Dragon concubine wraps his tail around you from behind, silently letting you know he’s there for you. Your Phoenix Hybrid and Wolf Hybrid concubines rest beside you. Your mermen and demon concubines spread out among the steps. All while your Minotaur concubine lays before you are your newest prize.

“Your majesty, you’re ruining the empire. The people are in desperate need of leadership,” one of your advisors dares to speak up, their concern evident if they risked speaking to you outright about it.

Your mermen and demon concubines hiss at the advisor, furious that they insult you. Your Dragon concubine growls in warning, eagerly wanting to set the advisor on fire for their disrespect. And your Minotaur concubine bellows in anger, shaking his head and ready to charge at them with your command.

They all knew you were trying your best. Even when you felt like you were constantly failing and sucking at life, they were always right there to comfort you. Showering you in all the affection you could desire. In their opinion you were a wonderful and beautiful Empress no matter what you did. They loved you endlessly and there was nothing that could take them from your side.

“I think you need to leave while you’re ahead. Or else you’ll be leaving without one,” your Minotaur concubine rasps, just waiting on your word to take this bastard out.

But you don’t, far too distraught to find the joy in murder today. And the advisor scurries out of there in the blink of an eye.

At the sound of a cry breaking past your lips, all your concubines turn to you. Their hearts aching to see their empress in such pain. Rushing toward you they hurry to comfort you, all of them surrounding you and reaching to hold even an inch of your precious plush body.

“Don’t listen to them, my love. You’re doing all you can,” your Phoenix concubine murmurs with so much tender affection it allows you to cry even harder.

“And it’s enough! More than enough,” your Wolf concubine quickly adds. He nuzzles into your neck, a rumble moving through his chest at your closeness.

Your tears move through you freely as you release all your pent up emotion. Your arms wrap around as many of your concubines as you can, basking in their warmth and adoration.

From behind you your Dragon concubine growls, still not liking to see his Empress in such distress. His forked tongue runs along the nape of your neck, causing you to shiver against your concubines.

“You’re doing so good. No matter what anyone else says. Trust us. Trust me,” he says lowly. His claw reaches out and softly turns your chin toward him, meeting your eye for a moment before descending down and kissing you passionately.

Your other concubines help you to lay back on your throne and get as comfortable as possible. Not wanting you to worry about a thing. As you get swept up in the hot kiss of your Dragon concubine, they swiftly undress you. All of them wanting to kiss you as well.

You gasp into the Dragon’s mouth as you suddenly feel the other’s mouths and tongues covering your sensitive body. They grab at you, their differing claws taking handfuls of flesh in their palms, loving your squishy body and how it welcomes their eager hands.

The Minotaur concubine reaches your precious cunt first. Groaning at your glistening lips, not knowing how quickly you get wet for them. His wide tongue runs through your folds you cry out, body jerking into his mouth.

The Dragon takes the chance to slip his tongue deep inside your mouth and you moan. All these sensations clashing together and creating a symphony of pleasure.

You desperately try and rock into your Dragon and his magical tongue, into the hands of your other concubines, and into the skilled tongue of your Minotaur all at once. Your pleasure skyrockets at the never ending pleasure unleashed upon you.

Your Dragon’s tongue somehow moves perfectly in sync with your Minotaur’s. Both of them dipping their tongues as deep inside you as they could go. Your Minotaur switching between sucking on your clit and filling your fat cunt with his wide tongue. Your dragon moving between exploring your mouth and brushing his tongue against yours. All of it making your toes curl and your body shake.

The Minotaur concubine is shocked at how quickly you gush all over his tongue, your release flooding into his mouth. He releases a long grunt and laps up your orgasm like a man starved. It has you whining and whimpering into your Dragon’s mouth.

Your other concubines go nearly feral at the sight of your release. Their hands and mouths stop their groping, biting, and licking to gravitate toward your sweet essence. They swipe at your thighs all fighting for a taste.

All of them trying to push your Minotaur out of the way to get to your pulsing core first. You sigh with contentment as you lean back against your Dragon, knowing you’re in for a long night of pleasure.

All the worries about your Empire fading into the background to wait another day.

[almostfoxglove]

THE PRETTIEST

written for @quinnnfabrgay-writes & @hauntedhowlett-writes' #MONSTERSMASH2024 challenge

RATING: Explicit (18+) | PAIRING: Max Phillips x f!Reader CREATURE: GHOST + MAX PHILLIPS WORD COUNT: 4.3k CW: Smut (piv), voyeurism/non-consensual voyeurism (he's invisible and reader doesn't know he's watching), Max is a bit of a creep okay he's doing his best here, protective!max, jealous!max, enough manager speak that I got tech startup flashbacks.

SUMMARY: After a restructuring at the company, Max finds himself dead—this time for good—and haunting his old duplex. Lucky for him, you move in.

read on ao3 | almostfoxglove masterlist

Of all the hell holes where one might waste eternity, Max is pretty sure his vacant duplex is the worst of them. Six rooms, two floors spined by a spiral staircase—all boring and hollow and dusty. Disgusting. How difficult would it have been to let him haunt the office? He could’ve leered over all those pathetic little office drones, driven them crazy forever. Fucked with their desk chairs, their hard drives, mixed up all their coffee mugs. Not that Max has mastered the art of affecting the material world yet, but he will.

Petty? Sure. But you can’t blame a guy for feeling a little owed after all management’s little reorganization. His relocation to the goddamn fucking afterlife—and to this prison of an apartment where there’s no one to subjugate or fuck, no less. 

What a waste of his potential. His talents.

Who knows how long he spends stuck alone in this place until someone shows up, but eventually people do. The real estate agent—Doreen and her little beehive hairdo, her eyebrows always penciled on too thin—and, over what Max estimates to be about three weeks, a parade of nobodies she tours around, preaching godless, truthless sermons of the duplex’s good bones and the good life they could have in these dreary fucking rooms. He’d be proud of her sales pitch if he weren’t so goddamn pissed.

He tries, he really does. Yells often, I’m right here, Dor-een, honey, right fucking here! And waves his arms in front of her face, but he can scream as loud as he likes; nobody hears a thing. 

For the first time in his many lives, people walk straight through him. 

There might be, possibly, some karma in that. 

Max doesn’t care for it.

It’s misery until the day Doreen brings him you.

Come on, Max whines, slouching lazily on your couch. Curled up with your bedsheets cloaked over your head, you rot on the cushions beside him, four hours deep in a Desperate Housewives marathon, oblivious to his company: your usual Sunday routine.

As usual you don’t hear him, don’t see him either. Sitting right beside you, making no dents in the pillows, his glossy dress shoes kicked up on the coffee table. Still he finds himself complaining, one hand gesticulating wildly at the screen, You’re killing me, baby. It’s obviously the fucking neighbor! Guy’s got a box of death under his pool!

Meanwhile you just sit there, enthralled as Eva Longoria struts about in her tiny skirts and tiny shoes. Max tells himself the only reason he stays in the room when you watch this garbage is for her and all the other pretty housewives or to leer at what bits of you peek out from your duvet each time you reach for your tea on the coffee table—a wrist, your elbow, and when you knock over the popcorn bowl and slip the sheets from your head, the lovely hollow of your perfect neck. Truth is, if you were to quiz him, he’d be able to cite the plot of the whole season beat for beat.

Not that he’s enjoying this, this—this garbage. Never.

No fucking way. He’s just perceptive. Has an excellent memory.

Plus this is the one way he gets to be close to you. Such a pretty little thing, taunting him without ever knowing it. That sweet mouth, those clever eyes. Showering with the bathroom door sometimes cracked like you know he’s here and dying to peek through the veil of your jasmine-laced steam. Chewing the ends of your pencils while you sketch out some masterpiece on looseleaf that you never get around to painting.

Sitting on your couch, at your dining table, at the foot of your bed while you brush out your hair after a long day—it’s the closest Max gets to feeling like being stuck here might not be hell, just purgatory: always a breath away from the thing he’d like to touch, but at least he’s not simmering in battery acid or being flogged. He’s had his share of blood-bag roommates—brief fascinations that drained so quickly—but you? You’ve lived in Max’s apartment for three months and he’s no less drunk on you than he was the day Doreen toured you around. Can’t quite put his finger on why. Maybe it’s the longing, the forest fire that sears through his ice-box chest every time your eyes skim his face by accident, never lingering. 

What can he say? Max is a man, after all. Under all the blood and monster.

And you’re the prettiest creature he’s ever seen.

When the show cuts to commercial you mute the TV, immune to the serpent-tongued promises of liars like him. Lured by nothing, by nobody. Already slinking from your bedsheet cave, all bare legs and cute little ankles striding out of the room, leaving him with the ghost of you, the smell of your perfume kissed into the duvet.

What he wouldn’t give for the chance to sell himself to you. He’d charm you all the way to your perfect knees.

In a way, you and Max are the perfect couple. You’re free to do as you wish, and he’s free to watch you every second that you spend at home, miserable the moment you leave for work in those tight fucking pencil skirts. No better than a dog, he spends his vagrant hours of isolation alternating between puppy-eyed pouting and anxious pacing, tortured until your evening return. 

How did he ever live here alone? Alive or otherwise. He can’t remember now. There are too many rooms, too few sounds, too few breaths, too few footsteps. He misses you. Your bedhead and pajamas, your blanket nest in front of the TV, the cute way you answer the phone. 

Today, you don’t come home till eight fifteen—and Max has spent thirteen hours losing what’s left of his mind.

Baby, he sighs, rushing for the front room at the first turn of the lock, a grin stretched to dimples in his cheeks. Seems even if you can’t hear him, Max can’t help talking to you, perhaps childlike in his belief that someday you will. Where the hell have you—

His sentence hacks itself in half, drops to silence, because you’re blushing when you come in, eyes shyly downcast, one hand shaking the rain loose from your hair, tendrils clinging to your cheeks. “Here,” you say, and for a beat Max thinks you’re speaking to him. His mouth drops, stunned. 

Is this it? Can you finally see him?

“Come in, come in,” you say.

Then a man steps in behind you, shuts the door behind his hulking form, and if there were any blood to speak of in his veins, Max is certain it’d boil at the sight of him. Tall and empty-headed, dopey as a dog, stomping his blocky, muddy shoes all over your hallway. Yours and Max’s. Getting goddamn filth on your hall carpet. Given just a few material cells, Max’d have this guy dead before he makes it to the living room, wouldn’t even bother drinking him. This breed of dumbass isn’t worth the mess.

But he’s useless. Less than a gnat. Sentenced to watch you trail this motherfucker who wouldn’t know Tom Ford from his Brioni into your kitchen, jackets shedding and small talk traded—boring, boring, boring, but you laugh when the guy makes a shitty joke about the weather. 

This guy, this nobody, gets to make you laugh while Max never even gets a chance to try.

On second thought, maybe this is hell after all.

“S’a nice place,” the dumbass says, laying his knockoff blazer over the back of a barstool. Cheap stitching. Terrible, too-thin lapels.

You look about the room as if standing in it for the first time and for a moment your eyes pass right over Max, whose long-dead heart winces. Yelps. If you could see him, there’s no way you’d entertain this guy. This nameless little worker bee. Max would make you laugh properly, how you laugh when something funny happens on TV or when you get a letter in the mail from your brother. Sudden and twinkling, often ending in a snort. Adorable.

Shrugging, you turn into your fridge and say, “Yeah, I like it,” and exhume two slim cans of vodka seltzer to set on the kitchen island.

Thank you, Max says, his arms crossed over his chest.

The dumbass’ brows flicker up as he regards your offering. Idiot. What was he expecting from a girl like you, a PBR? These are delicious. Elegant. Calorie wise. Max understands. Max would drink that with a smile and a thank you. 

Or maybe he’d skip right to drinking you.

Sensing his hesitation, you crack your can and take a sip. “They’re not as bad as they look,” you say, a nervous chuckle bittering your lips as you watch your date open his can and bring it to his nose to sniff. “Sorry. I don’t have anything else.”

You can do so much better, baby, Max sighs. You’ve got better right here.

Against his will, the hours pass. The evening goes on. You and the dumbass only drink half a can each—him with a half-snarled lip and you with a self-conscious twinge—but somehow by nightfall he’s got you scooching your barstool closer to him, allowing his slimy hand to rest on your thigh. 

Max bristles. Seethes. Don’t do it, he pleads to you, unheard. He’s not gonna fuck you right, just look at him. Send this idiot home and watch TV with me. Do anything but this guy, baby, anything but him.

You bend in slow motion and it’s agonizing, the tilt of your head as you press your lips to his. The wet slurp of his mouth taking the second you meet. A terrible kiss, though you’re polite enough not to flinch. Breaking from the prod of his pink-slug tongue to offer your neck, his mouth immediately moving, and fuck baby, it’s like you’re trying to kill him all over again. Drive a stake straight through Max’s blackened heart by giving up what he longs to claim.

In an instant, anger births itself from the hollow of his chest. His hand shoots out in useless violence, swinging as if to strike a seltzer can from the countertop and knowing it won’t do a lick of good as ire devours him, igneous and fervid, searing hot as life in his icy hands.

The can jumps from the counter and clunks to the floor, its contents gluggluglug-ing across the tiles.

“The fuck?” Max hears the dumbass gasp as he leaps from his barstool, eyes bugged wide and child-like and weak. You freeze, lips pink and swollen, staring down at the emptying can. 

It’s a shame neither of you can see the way Max smiles. 

Now that’s what I’m talking about, he crows. Finally a little substance around here! 

This is good. No, it’s better than good. This is the rush after a promotion, after the deal that closes out the quarter over target. The look on every sad sack’s face knowing they lost and he won.

This is the bite that finally breaks skin.

Maddening, burgeoning, addictive.

He’s real again. A goddamn Beetlejuice for you, baby. He’s gonna scare this fucknut out of here and have you to himself. First was the can, next is you, and he’s gonna kiss you so much better than that. In celebration, Max kicks one foot to send the can soaring across the kitchen floor and watches his shoe pass right through it, aluminum undisturbed on the floor. No, he mutters, kicking again. No, fucking—come on, you worthless piece of shit—

Your nervous laugh is too far away to comfort him. Distant too is your voice saying, “My room’s this way,” and the shuffling of your footsteps as Max loses his shit on the seltzer can that now refuses to budge no matter the swell of his outrage. By the time he snaps from his incensed trance, your barstools are empty. He blinks, breathless with muscle memory—his lungs wheezing because they remember wheezing, not out of need.

Baby? he calls out.

But you reply. A murmur too lusty to be a giggle—Max’s body coils up at the sound, taut and needy, and carries him toward the sound. He forgets, briefly, who you’re with. Believes he’ll find you in your bedroom alone beneath the covers, hands fluttering as you bring yourself to the edge of release. How beautiful you’d be, gasping in pleasure. He might close his eyes and pretend it’s him drawing out your every breathy, needy sound.

You’ve left the bedroom door cracked, and though in death he’s no longer bound by silly things like permission, Max has since you moved in found himself in the habit of respecting closed doors. Walls are chalk outlines over which he’s free to step, but he doesn’t, not if you’ve closed the gate. He’s not a monster. Or not a total monster—whatever, semantics. Point is that he only spies on your showers if you’ve cracked the door. Indulges in the soft moments of you sleeping only when you’ve left him that sliver of room.

Like the room you’ve left him now: slender and tempting, this stripe of your bedroom wall. A Degas print in a copper frame, the wooden post at the foot of your bed. 

Your sweet voice cooing here, like this, and the creak of your mattress.

Something black and silty sinks in Max’s stomach when he steps inside. Not the rage from moments ago. Something darker, heavier. Jealousy. Half-sheeted by your duvet, the dumbass you’ve brought home rocks above you, his shirt gone, his beefcake arm blocking the view of your chest, and though you’re making all the right sounds it’s obvious this isn’t any good.

He’s not fucking you right.

Your hands clawing at his back are too stiff. Your yeses a beat too slow. As the idiot pants—thrusts choppy and graceless—Max watches your hand tap his shoulder blade as you breathe, “Flip over.”

“What?” bumbles the guy, his hips stalling. “Oh shit—fuck yeah. Okay.”

Another grunt, then he rolls off and Max gets a glimpse of you—your red bra lacy and see through, your nipples so pretty underneath. It just isn’t right, the awkwardness of this colossal douchebag as he settles on his back and you ruck back the covers to straddle him, not at all breathless, hardly even flushed, your hair all messy at the back from disappointing friction.

“Shit,” the guy gasps as you sink down on him, clamping those boorish hands onto your waist.

You don’t even whine, not even as you start to rock, though his breathing gallops beneath you. Guy looks two seconds from nutting while you look years away from anything even loosely resembling an orgasm—your rhythm changing often as you try and fail to find a pace that suits you. “Christ—oh my god, ” the guy groans.

Max sucks his front teeth, tongue soiled with venom.

“Touch me,” you sigh, bouncing now. The curtain of your hair shivering down your back. 

This guy fucks like he’s never touched a woman before. At your request his knuckles only pale, fingers pinching you tighter. That’s not what she means, Max growls. Touch her fucking clit, you pin-dicked imbecile. Can’t fucking please a woman, should be fucking ashamed—

His pointless ranting is cut short by a sudden moan as the guy lifts you off him in time to come all over his stomach, chest rapid in its heaving, upper lip snarled in pleasure he doesn’t have the goddamn decency to return to you. For a long moment you hover above him, waiting, but his head just slumps back against the pillow, satisfied. 

Done.

He’s actually done. Motherfucker.

When you crawl off him to sit back against your headboard—arms crossing over your stomach self-consciously—Max sees red. Sees fire. Sees the roiling magma at the center of the earth where someone oughta make this fucker take a nice hot bath. 

He’d do this right. He’d fuck you properly, have you coming apart at the seams, go down on you until you beg for his cock and edge himself for as long as it takes to have you screaming his name. Can’t you see that? Can’t you feel him here, right now? Can’t you feel how bad he wants you? Can’t you imagine how much better he’d be? How good he’d make you feel?

Letting out an airy chuckle, the brute wipes the back of his hand across his sweaty brow and pushes himself to his feet. Redresses with a goddamn smirk on his face—not one of cruelty, but it might as well be. He thinks this is a job well done. Time to go home. 

A peck to your lips, then he’s rattling on about calling you, seeing you again, maybe Thursday? Friday? While you just sit there, blinking up at him in disbelief. “Sure,” you say, dazed and not quite thinking. “I’ll call you.”

Yeah, she’s not calling you, Max snarls, following the guy out of the room. Watching as the jackass plucks his jacket from the back of your barstool, steps over the mess of seltzer without a thought to clean it up for you, and waltzes right out the door. Not a care in the goddamn world. 

Though he hears you get up shortly after to use the bathroom, you don’t emerge from your bedroom and Max doesn’t disturb you. He spends that time in the kitchen, grabbing and grabbing and grabbing at the dish towel hung over the handle on the oven door, trying to pull it off. 

For at least an hour, his hand glides through the towel as if it’s water, not a flutter or sway in the fabric. Not even a brush, a compromise. It just hangs there, indignant. Mocking him. Deaddeaddeaddeaddead. Maybe it’s the Senior Sales Manager in him, the apex predator at the top of the food chain—but Max can do this all night. He’s not backing down, not letting a stupid fucking towel get the better of him. That lazy curtain of terrycloth will disintegrate before he waves the white flag. 

Beyond the picture frame windows that stare out into the barren, colorless street, the sun has shied to navy blue, letting out the round-mouthed moon, and you have not emerged from your bedroom for hours. He wants to check on you, ask if you’re okay. Frankly, baby, he’s getting a little worried. On the next sweep of his hand, the towel gives up the ghost; Max pulls it from the oven handle, marveling at the toothy fabric. He’s holding it, really holding it, all on his own. 

Thank fuck he’s not haunting the office. If any of those bull-brained fucks saw him now, as he kneels on your kitchen floor, he’d have to die all over again. Somehow. The technicals aren’t important—what’s important is that no one’s here to see him on his fucking knees, mopping up the spilled drink. Something like joy burbles in his chest when he reaches for the can and seizes it, placing it safely on your counter. The floor dry and shining again, clean. 

Max folds the towel carefully and returns it to the rack. 

As if on cue, the bedroom door croaks down the hall and you emerge. A huge t-shirt slumps from your frame; you’ve tied your hair up, put your glasses back on. Dressed down for the last dregs of night, rubbing the back of your hand in one eye, tired. 

You look so, so tired.

I’d rub your shoulders, baby, Max sighs quietly and though you won’t hear him, it still—after three whole months—doesn’t feel any less right to hope.

He steps out of your way as you round the corner into the kitchen with a yawn, hands clasped behind his back, cheek dimpled and eyes alight. Just like he wanted, just like he hoped, your eyes fall immediately to the floor where the can is missing, the spill wiped. Lashes flickering—the towel dark at the hem on its handle, the empty can on the counter. Your brows pinch low over your nose, curious. 

Pretty good for a dead guy, Max grins.

How sweet, that lifting flinch at your mouth’s sharp, pink corner. The soft hm you make in reply. It’s not much, but this strange, fluttery feeling in the dark cavity one might wrongly call his heart? It doesn’t feel half bad. 

Not bad at all.

He’s getting better at it. Not great, but the projections look good. Give him a little time, he’ll have this whole place dancing. Put on a big show, announce himself properly. 

In the meantime he practices when you’re not looking. Small stuff—he opens cupboards. Shuts them. Hits start on the dryer when you forget to press it yourself. Some days he wastes reaching for things and coming up empty, but now again his luck sparkles. Things move. Bend to his will. Isn’t long until he can hold it for a while—gathering the matter to run the vacuum around, or reorganize your pantry. A tidy house makes a tidy mind, baby. No good living in a dump. You’re so busy, always cracking around like a ping pong ball, and hell, it’s not like Max can leave this place, get a little air in his idle lungs.

He likes being useful to you. Likes that tiny smirk on your lips when you find something fixed or organized for you, even though you likely chalk it up to having forgotten that you did it yourself. Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need the credit. Isn’t that strange? How often he smiles at you? How perfect he finds the taste of your name.

Winter has arrived like a secret—whispered about for weeks and then suddenly let loose on the world. You come home from work in the evenings with icing sugar hair. Usually unbothered, far as Max can tell, but today you stagger in flushed from the cold and dark in the eyes.

Shit, baby, Max says when he sees you. Bad day?

Sniffling, you drop your coat right there in the hall, let it puddle over your shoes, and stalk off on a mission, barreling into the kitchen. The fridge door rips open, casting blue-white light over your face, and you must feel a hell of a lot worse than you feel because you don’t even blink at the contents inside. All the shelves wiped clean, the bottles arranged with the labels facing out, those wilted, bad greens deposited in the compost. You just reach in for the half-drunk bottle of Riesling that to Max smelled mostly like juice and swipe off the lid.

You chug on your way to the couch, leaving the fridge door open behind you.

Max closes it when you’ve gone, the TV already switched on in the living room, the lilting strings of the Desperate Housewives theme song swimming through the air. When he turns the corner he finds you wrapped in the throw blanket he now knows the texture of—supple and velvet, weighted and warm—with the wine bottle nestled in your lap. 

A silver tear hangs on your cheek. 

Really bad day, whatever it was. 

He wants to ask. Wants to pull you into his arms and pet back your hair. Wants to lick that sadness from your skin. 

Maybe this isn’t the show he’s imagined. Not much of a reveal—but you look so small right now, alone on your couch. Wine splashing in its bottle as you bring it to your lips, not bothering to wipe that tear away. If Max had a heart that beat, it’d stutter as he watches you. Helpless isn’t something he cares to feel.

No time like the present. Max sighs, scrubs a hand down his face as he ticks his jaw to one side, and nods. Alright, baby, he relents. Hang on.

On his way to the bathroom he cracks all the knuckles on his left hand, rolls his neck, swings his shoulders. Stretches himself long and limber like he’s about to run—but this is it. Curtain’s coming up. Time to find out if one glimpse of him sends you sprinting for the hills. Though he casts no reflection, Max stands before the mirror hanging over the sink and straightens his tie, corrects his lapels. Old habits, but it never hurts to look good.

Hand waggling, then, over the tissue box on the counter. He slaps himself hard, sending a delicious ripple of pain across his cheek. Come on, he begs. Don’t play hard to get.

The box lifts.

Here he comes: tissue box in hand, stalking tall and proud down your hallway with his chin up, shoulders back. Gets the momentum rolling, doesn’t hesitate, just waltzes in.

Your head snaps in his direction, eyes round and brows rising. To you it must look like the tissues float through the air to your side. Max steps back with butterflies jittering in his bones. 

Don’t be scared, he pleads. It’s just me.

With your head cocked to one side you consider this, though you’ve not heard his voice. Probably for the best. Came out a little softer than he meant it to, a little needy, and that’s just not becoming of a man like him. He has a reputation to uphold, even now. 

After a long, bludgeoning pause you click your tongue, swiping one white tissue from the box to turn over in your hand. Deliberating. Then your face cracks, possessed by a slithering smirk. Your gaze flickering so close to him it’s almost as if you’ve looked him in the eye. 

Deep in his chest, Max feels a strange throb—his stirring heart—as you say out loud, 

“I knew someone was there.”

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[yelenasdiary]

Hey, i'm the same one with the idea.

So i was thinking, the Marvel universe.

Wanda had the boys, but they are Vision's kids. Yn is their bestfriend(Wanda and Nat) and played like cupid, you know, they were a couple thanks to her.

So well, I was thinking something about being reincarnated, i don't truly believe in it but in a history i like that type of things.

Wanda was pregnant again, with a baby girl, and in the time Wanda was suppose to gave birth, Yn was in a mission but it went wrong, she got shot and even if they try to "fix" everything, they couldn't and she died.

In the moment, the doctors were trying to do their things, Wanda has the labor contractions and finally gave birth.

So the thing is, the "soul" of Yn went to the baby, or something like that.(I don't know how to say those things, i try my best to write in english hahaha)

And Wanda and Nat found about it and named the baby after Yn.

While the little Yn was growing up, they saw how many things she did in the same way as Yn, and of course they talked about her with the little one.

And basically, you can change everything you want and need to write the story, if you want to write it, of course. Thank you. Have a good day, or night.

Watching Over You

Pairing: WandaNat x Fem! Avenger! Reader (Platonic), Mentions of Wanda x Vision. 

Summary: Somethings in this world are unexplainable but what if that one thing helped bring two people together to start a new life

Angst, Comfort

Warnings: Character Death, Mentions of guns, and Child Birth | 1.5K

Translations: Detka (baby),

AC: I love this idea, it’s something different! I hope you enjoy this, I do apologise if this isn’t as exciting as you hoped. Thank you for sending it! x 

The blue sky started to look dim, your body turning cold as Clint and Steve rushed you to the quinjet. Steve carrying you bridal style while Clint cleared the path, the soldier laid you down on one of the uncomfortable beds and strapped you down tightly. “It’ll be okay! We’ll get you home” you heard Steve’s faint voice before things went black. Clint wasting no time starting up the jet to rush you home to medical. 

Meanwhile, your best friends were preparing for the next chapter in their lives. You could say you were cupid in Wanda and Natasha’s love story. After Wanda and Vision got divorced, Wanda struggled to get out of the loveless slump she was in. You did everything you could think of to help her get over Vision, but it was hard when her two eldest children were fathered by him. But with some time and patience, Wanda opened herself up to dating again. Did she expect her next marriage to be with a woman? No, but she was so thankful that you helped her see just how much Natasha loved and cared for the mother of two. 

It wasn’t exactly easy for Nat either. Her feelings for Wanda started well before the brunette got divorced and watching Wanda have a little family with somebody else pushed Natasha’s hopes for a family of her own further and further to the back of her mind. But now? Now Natasha and Wanda were hours away from welcoming their first child together. 

Without you and setting up a cheeky few blind dates and listening for hours on end to your friends feelings for one another, you weren’t sure what the two would be doing now. But it’s been 2 years since they got married and a lot of happy tears on the way. 

“Something isn’t right!” Wanda said in a panic, “Nat, something isn’t right, I can feel it!” She added, rubbing her hand over her swollen stomach. Wanda’s water broke a couple of hours ago, but she wasn’t dilated enough to be taken to the delivery room. Natasha comforted her wife by taking her hand, “have some ice chips detka, everything is okay, I promise” she replied before offering Wanda a cup of ice chips. Wanda saw that Natasha didn’t quite understand her wife’s worries, she slowly shook her head, “it’s not the baby, something just doesn’t feel right” Wanda said, her eyes building with tears. 

“Do you want me to get a nurse?” Natasha asked. Wanda shook her head, “please don’t leave me” Wanda replied, looking up at Natasha. Although Wanda’s current state of mind was confusing Nat a little, she sat down beside Wanda’s bed and quickly changed the topic to keep her wife distracted. 

“So, do you think is going to get jealous first? Tommy or Billy?” She joked, causing Wanda to playful slap her hand away from her. 

----

What seemed like forever had passed, Wanda was only seconds away from giving birth. Natasha by her side holding her hand has her wife almost broke her knuckles in pain and while the delivery room was full of excitement and happiness, another room was full of the exact opposite. 

Tony, Steve, Clint, Maria, Thor, Bucky and Pepper sat around the large table in one of the many conference rooms. Nothing but silence was shared, tissues in the center of the table that mainly Maria and Pepper reached for, the guys looking at one another, all wondering how to process the news. 

“We have to tell them” Steve broke the silence. 

“Last update I had was Wanda was taken into the delivery room. Nat said she’d keep me posted but I don’t think we tell them yet” Clint replied. 

“We can’t not tell them; they’re going to know. Especially Wanda” Maria chipped in, whipping her tears on a tissue. 

“How about we just deal with it when need too, right now, we should probably go to the hospital and be there for them” Pepper suggested, “nothing we do is going to change anything” she added. Tony nodded in agreement, “if anything, we tell Nat first. We shouldn’t tell Wanda right now” he inserted. 

The small team came to an agreement, it wasn’t easy, and they wished things were different, that they would have better news but the best thing they could all do right now was to be there for each other. 

Steve knocked softly on Wanda’s door in the hospital before slowly opening it, everybody had a soft smile on their faces and even through the news they had to keep to themselves for now, the excitement of meeting a new little family member helped make things feel a little better. 

“Hey guys!” Wanda smiled softly at her extended family. Natasha was gently rocking their new-born daughter in her arms as the others entered the room. Clint stepped close to Natasha, looking down at his friend’s little baby. “She’s beautiful” he whispered softly.  

“Do you want to hold her?” Nat offered with a sense of proudness in her voice, Clint nodded, “I’d love too” he added. 

“Hey, where’s Y/n?” Wanda asked, looking at everybody. Thor’s eyes dropped immediately to his feet which only made Wanda tilt her head slightly to the side, “Nat, uh, there’s something I need to run by you, do you mind if we step outside for a moment?” Steve quickly said before Wanda could question anything. Wanda watched as Steve and Natasha left the room, the others quickly turning the attention back to the baby in Clint’s arms. 

“Does she have a name yet?” Maria asked. 

“We have a couple of ideas, but nothing seems to feel right at the moment” Wanda said, smiling tiredly at her. 

“Steve, what is it?” Natasha asked, a sparkle in her eye that Steve hated to break. “We thought it would be best to tell you first” he started. 

“Tell me what?” Natasha frowned slightly, trying to read Steve for an answer. 

“Y/n is gone. There was a situation on the mission, and she was shot, she never made it off the table Nat” 

Natasha was in disbelief as she cocked a brow at her friend, “you know this is a really shitty time to play a joke like that. She’s never miss this” 

Steve stood in silence, allowing the news to sink in until it did, and Natasha’s eyes filled with tears. “When did Helen call time of death?” Natasha asked. “6:42pm” Steve answered, unaware that the little fact would cause Nat to break completely. He caught her in his arms, comforting her until she was able to gather herself once more. “I t-think you guys should go” she looked up at him, “I need to tell Wanda” 

“I understand” Steve replied before the two of them entered the room once again. “Alright guys, I know it’s exciting, but I think we should let Wanda get some rest and our little darling will need a feed soon” Natasha announced, any excuse to kindly ask them to leave. They understood the moment they looked at Steve, they all gave Wanda a hug before the room was just the three of them. 

----

It took a few long days for Wanda to process the news, every time she looked at her new baby, all she felt was happiness but in the short moments she was able to look into her daughter’s eyes, all she saw was you and that was the thing that troubled her a little. Not everybody believed in reincarnation, Wanda wasn’t sure she believed in it much herself but when it came to finalizing the birth certificate, it was time to give the new-born a name. 

“That can’t be right” Wanda frowned, the blue ballpoint pen hovering over the birth certificate. 

“What’s not right detka?” Natasha asked, placing her hand on Wanda’s knee under the dining room table. “Pumpkin’s time of birth, it has to be a mistake” she replied. Pumpkin being the nickname they gave their daughter until they were able to settle on a final name. 

“I was hoping that you wouldn’t notice that” Nat replied, watching as Wanda’s eyes filled with tears. She dropped the pen from her hold and ran her fingers through her hair, “our best friend died the exact same time our daughter was born” she looked to Nat, “call me crazy but this can’t be a coincidence. Every time I look into Pumpkin’s eyes, all I see is Y/n. Even her cheeky little smile makes me feel like Y/n is here” Wanda went on. 

Natasha didn’t think her wife was crazy, not for a second. “Me too” the red head admitted, bringing her hand to cup Wanda’s cheek, wiping her tears. “I know we’re stuck on a name but I can’t help but want to name her after Y/n” she added. Wanda smiled softly through her tears, “I wanted to suggest that. I would love to name her after Y/n, I think it’s a great idea” 

As time went on, little Y/n grew up knowing more and more about the Avenger she was named after, she leant about how you helped her mother’s get together, she learnt all about your favorite hobbies, likes and dislikes. There was plenty of little things that mini-Romanoff did that made everybody around her think of you, from her cheeky smile to her stubbornness and even her mischief behavior when playing with her brothers, she might be half Wanda and half Natasha but she was in many ways, a part of you.

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[thefrogman]

Back in the olden days, if you used the "keep reading" function on a Tumblr-dot-com post, it would

not get very many notes.

At all.

I am not sure exactly why.

I think people hated pressing an extra thing.

But maybe it was also a psychological phenomenon where, given the choice, they were unwilling to trust me with their time.

But if I sucked them in with a good story or a compelling image, they would get serious FOMO.

When I created a super high effort post-of-length I would get comments like, "This was way too long but before I realized it I was reading the last sentence."

That was a really good feeling.

I used to do tests to figure out the best posting strategies and I think I figured out you'd lose about 90% of your notes if you did a "keep reading" post.

So that notion was ingrained in my brain again and again from when I was very note-obsessed and I have since avoided the "keep reading" option almost like a conditioned response.

Just seeing that squiggly line appear still induces a Pavlovian fear.

But that was probably a decade ago and I did a new experiment. My story about replacing my mailbox did reasonably well with a strategically clickbaity "keep reading."

This was a promising result due to the fact that some people like to send me hate for writing a lengthy post.

I recently got a death threat for writing too much, which was a fun reminder of my M&M days (I melted men's rights activists' brains with a poorly worded analogy and they launched a years long harassment campaign).

It seems in present-era-Tumblr-dot-com many more people prefer pressing an extra thing rather than scrolling a bunch on their smartphone. The collective behavior has changed. And maybe I don't need to use tricks and running gags in order to get folks to "keep reading".

Unfortunately I started writing that ring light post a few months ago so I wasn't able to include that in the experiment. But I am going to try using the keep reading function in the future and as long as the average number of folks that usually read my longer posts continue to read my posts, that will be the standard approach.

I also tag these posts with "long post" so you can flag that if you wish.

While I am no longer in the audience-building phase of my Tumblr career, these essays and stories and educational posts take a considerable amount of time and effort to create, so I do want to make sure everyone who wants to read them is able to. But posts without hearts and reblogs can quickly die a gruesome algorithmic death. Even my most ardent followers would tell me things were not showing up on their dash. (I think replies help mitigate that, so if you like a long post, you can help with engagement.)

The collective noun is a "business" of ferrets.

Do you want to see a business of ferrets ready to do some business?

KEEP READING

I love writing and it is a huge catharsis for me. And I love sharing any knowledge I feel like I have the earned expertise to speak on with authority (technology, photography, light, fun ferret facts, etc). I wish I had the energy to be a photography teacher, but long posts on Tumblr are probably the best I can do for now.

I know my posts are super long, but I try to make them as fun and informationally dense as I possibly can. I don't like wasting people's time if I can avoid it. Though maybe I should trust my follower's attention span a bit more. I have this fear that if I am not constantly entertaining, people will click away or unfollow.

I think a good business for a business of ferrets would be selling pool noodles that look like ferrets.

So as long as I get roughly the same amount of notes I will do the keep reading. And then maybe people can lay off on the mean comments and occasional requests to end my own life because I bloviated about soft light.

100% true ferret fact..

If you ask a ferret what their business is, they will crawl on your shoulder and whisper in your ear...

[hyunebunx]

💛 w/ felix please!!

˖˙ ᰋ ── 💛- 'a kiss shared during sunset, often romantic and serene'

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff!! the fluffiest kind

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: i loved writing this sm :( it's a little self indulgent but i still hope you'll like it! thank youu for requesting!! <333

Sunsets were your absolute favorite.

It might sound cliché or overrated, but witnessing such mesmerizing beauty whenever you were lucky enough to, genuinely made life worth living to an extent other things didn’t. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder but nobody could deny the one of a kind colors and the bright light that was slowly dimming with every minute that passed weren’t painting one of the most gorgeous pictures of them all. Mother Nature herself was the most talented artist after all, her creations admired all over the world by all sorts of people, even the ones who didn’t have a keen eye for the arts in the first place.

Yet somehow, the sunset was even more dazzling now while you were admiring it with Felix, your one and only who everyone was convinced was related to the sun himself.

Lowering your hands, you let the cheap film camera dangle from your wrist casually, the sand warm under you. “I’ve always loved taking pictures of the sky.”

Felix tears his gaze from the ocean, the warm breeze softly ruffling his long blond hair as he smiles. “I know. You never miss a photo opportunity, wiping out your phone and stopping everything we do to get that perfect shot.”

You return his smile, sheepishly, bumping your shoulder into his. “So, you’ve noticed.”

“Of course I have.” He admits like he couldn’t phantom someone not noticing, leaning closer and staring at you in such a way that had you believing he forgot all about the beautiful view in front for a moment. “Because while you’re busy staring at the sky, my eyes only see you.”

Your eyes widen, heat rushing to your face alarmingly as you finally turn to look at him. Wrong move, because the sight of him takes your breath away, especially since you’re close enough to notice every single detail that made Felix who he was. His freckles were not hiding behind any makeup, spilling all over his cheeks like actual constellations – the ones on his eyelids were always your favorite, having taken too many pictures of them to even count now – plump lips naturally pink and still stretched into a faint smile that only pulled you closer by your heartstrings, tugging at them and never really letting go.

The sun was setting, and there were numerous other couples around enjoying the view and the last days of warmth on the beach, but now you could only see him.

“Now you’re just lying to fluster me.” A giggle escapes you, awkward and shy as the beautiful shades of orange begin caressing his side profile, mesmerizing you.

Felix shakes his head instantly. “Why would I?” His hand finds yours on the sand, intertwining your fingers. “People find beauty in different things. So, while you’re enthralled by the sky and all of its colors, I’m bewitched by you and only you.”

Bewitched, like you were some sort of otherworldly being in his eyes, a piece of art deserved to be hung in a museum in its own separate section, surrounded by security 24/7.

You’ve never doubted Felix’s love for you but at the same time, you had no idea he regarded you so highly, in the same way you did him.

Without a second thought, you lean over and plant a lingering kiss on his cheek, feeling his smile widen before you get the chance to pull away, happiness radiating off of him.

“Sure, the sky is beautiful.” You nod, a little tongue-tied and emotional by his previous statement. “But there’s something I love capturing in pictures even more.”

His brows furrow, turning his whole mind upside down in search of the answer he’s looking for, sure you’ve told him about this before. There was no way he wouldn’t remember.

You reach to smooth out the skin and stop him from stressing. Felix beams in response, catching your fingers and bringing them to his mouth to kiss one by one.

The waves were crashing against the shore, bringing a rare serenity you and Felix could never get enough of as the sun seemed to pause its descent to also witness your love, giving you a few more moments of light.

“The moon?” He tries, thoughtful while bringing your hand to his chest.

You shake your head and almost close the distance between you to whisper. “You.”

Then, you kiss him, tenderly and softly like you’re afraid once you pull back and open your eyes he will disappear like he was nothing more than a fragment of your own imagination. Or a ray of sunshine personified whose time ran out and he needed to hurry home and be among his people, to allow the moon to take front stage.

Felix holds your hands like he feels the same, not believing someone like you was actually real and bothered to give him the time of day.

There is no rush or desperation, just two people who love each other like it wasn’t the first time, like they somehow met before in a past life and were separated by the cruel passing of time. Like soulmates destined to find each other over and over again, guided by the red string of fate that never tore no matter how far apart your paths were, or what obstacles dared to stand in your way.

When you pull away, he chases after you, pecking your lips repeatedly until he’s satisfied. But he doesn’t seem to get enough, deepening the kiss at the last second while pulling you even closer as he wraps an arm around your shoulders to feel you near.

The sun is almost gone when you come back for air, forehead resting against your lover’s as you both break into the biggest smiles, delighted to be together and make even more memories.

And for once in your life, you don’t mind missing a sunset for you found an even more beautiful view. 

[rena-lily]

Yall imagine an au where all the first years try to get Sebek to go to their dorm kind’ve like a trial period for like 3 days and then the dorm heads catch wind up this and then are also like hmmm that’d be interesting so they also try to convince Sebek. (They got permission from Crowley cause why not)Turns out Sebek fits very well in all of the dorms and he fits very well in a duo with each one of the first years in their dorms(trio in adeuce’s case ). Like Sebek is sometimes reprimanding Epel in Diasomnia but he’s with Epel on his distaste for the flavorless food(like be so fr atleast Lilia’s cooking has taste even if it’s bad…SHAME ON YOU) and they have a good time together(Vil firmly believes that Sebek should keep his hair down,he WILL rectify this atrocity AND ALSO WHERE WERE YOU SEBEK WHEN HE NEEDED A GOOD SINGER FOR VDC), let’s be honest Sebek is a rule followed through and through and he’s already acquainted with Riddle so he’d honestly do well in Heartslabyul especially as a trio with Adeuce as the braincell but still getting roped into their shenanigans(riddle is glad that atleast one of them knows the rules), Sebek is super athletic so Jack and him went on morning runs together a lot when he was at Savanaclaw and let’s be honest those two prob destroyed anyone that tried to challenge them together(Leona was lowkey impressed), and Ortho taught Sebek some new games while Idia occasionally showed Sebek new games(his favorite was animal crossing)(Idia guesses he doesn’t mind the freshman…BUT he’s very loud…) , surprisingly Sebek becomes friends with Floyd while in Octavinelle and manages to get out of their without getting into any contracts(Octa Trio liked him enough so they didn’t try to scam him..this is a one time thing tho!!!), and while he was in Scarabia, he got along well with Jamil(Sebek thinks he’s a cool human)(Now while Jamil doesn’t like extra work, he wouldn’t mind having an extra person to help him…and he GUESSES Sebek isn’t a bad person to hand out with)and he manages to keep Kalim out of trouble while Jamil was away but Kalim instead taught Sebek some dances(Kalim thinks Sebek is very fun).

Later on the Diasomnia trio find out and are like WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN???NO WAY(None of the housewardens informed Malleus😭) and then all of them end up fighting for Sebek and like Sebek just has like no fucking idea what’s going on. He’s just excited that so many people wanna hang out with him and he’s just like >:3. Kalim and Azul also gets in on it. Like Scarabia and Octavinelle also join in because "oh look new friend to party with" and "ah yes money" but the most important "I..I have a freshman now? *cri*"

I think a perfect ending for this is to see Sebek's skills in person. Because I believe the dorms (sans first years) are going to argue what skillset they can bring for Sebek not knowing that Sebek is absurdly and obliviously competent with most tasks. Like idk Sebek swordfighting with some random RSA prince charming and actually won something for NRC is a flex.

Cue Crowley and the other teachers fending off teachers from RSA to "STOP RECRUITING MY STUDENT" "BUT HE HAS POTENTIAL IN RSA-"

A green thunderbolt quickly shuts the mouth of the RSA professor. and now the Diasomnia trio is like “OMGGG NOT ONLY DO WE HAVE TO FIGHT THE FIRSTIES FOR SEBEK BUT NOW ALSO THE HOUSEWARDENS TF” and then they’re just fighting for Sebek’s attention . ALSO IT WOULD BE SO COOL IF SEBEK ALSO IS AQQUAINTED WITH SOMEONE IN RSA LIKE YOU AFTER THE SWORDFIGHTING THING AND THEYRE LIKE “you knowwww Sebek you should totes come to RSA” (he somehow befriended the RSA student he beat and now they have weekly hangouts)(first years are not happy about this)and then now everyone is fighting for Sebek so now the staff are trying to fend off RSA staff and students but everyone is also trying to get Sebek to join their dorms.

[sister-lucifer]

Taken To Another World 

⊹₊⟡⋆A Multifandom Fantasy AU Themed 5K Celebration Writing Challenge⊹₊⟡⋆

Special thanks to @ghostboneswrites2 for inspiring this! 

Interested? Keep reading! 

There will be two prompts for each genre; a pair for fluff, a pair for smut, a pair for angst, and a pair for horror. Each prompt comes with its own criteria, so read carefully! 

How To Participate: 

Reblog this post (for reach! thanks!) 

Pick a prompt (or multiple) 

Write your fic 

Post it and tag me (feel free to send it to me directly if I don’t see it!) 

Use the tag #lucifer’s 5k fantasy challenge 

The fandoms this challenge is open to are as follows: 

Obey Me!, Creepypasta, Marble Hornets, Batman (and all related media), Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure (all parts), and any original characters/universes.

Don’t see your fandom? You’re still free to use these prompts (and please tag me if you do so I can see it,) but it unfortunately will not count as an entry for this challenge!

Rules: 

Feel free to pick multiple prompts, but you cannot enter more than one fic per prompt! 

The fics can be part of your own ongoing series, but they must be able to stand alone as their own piece without the additional context of the series 

Please state which prompt you chose somewhere on your post 

Feel free to cross post your work to another site such as Ao3, but please, do mention that it was part of my challenge 

Anyone can participate in this challenge, however I ask that minors stay away from the NSFW prompts 

You are free to bend the prompts as you wish, there is no mandatory time period or setting 

My inbox and messages are always open if you need to ask questions, consult me, or just want to discuss ideas!

The fics can be Character x Reader, Character x OC, or Character x Character; relationships can be platonic or romantic as you wish

Some prompts are written with pairs in mind; feel free to modify this to fit in as many characters as you’d like. Poly relationships included!

Absolutely NO incest OR pedophilia under any circumstances 

NO AI, NO using other people’s writing, and NO using a piece you’ve already written

Pay attention to the criteria! Prompt 1 will have a required quote, and Prompt 2 will have a required plot point/action

The Deadline is currently undecided. This will be updated soon 

Winners: 

I will choose up to 3 finalists for each prompt.  The finalists will be presented in a poll, and the readers will choose the winner. 

The winner of each prompt will get their own shoutout/promo post including an analysis of what I liked about their fic, & at least 3 fics I recommend from them and why. 

Does all that sound like fun? Good! Here’s your prompts:

Over The River, Through The Woods…

Fluff + Faeries

Prompt 1:  In a fit of rebellion, a naive royal flees from the castle and into the woods. They stumble upon a faerie who, against all they’ve ever been taught, seems rather…kind. 

Necessary Criteria: “Anyone can do a good thing if they try.” / “Well…how often do you try?”

Prompt 2: Fae don’t often leave their villages, except to gather. Unfortunately, one foolish faerie has found themself entangled in a trap left behind by a human hunter. Even worse, the human has returned to see what they’ve caught; although, they seem far more curious than hostile. 

Necessary Criteria: One of the characters teaches the other a new word in their native tongue. 

Magic Begins In Superstition, And Ends In Science…

Angst + Alchemy 

Prompt 1: The job of an alchemist’s apprentice is rarely an easy one. Magic is a fickle mistress, after all. When the apprentice’s companion tries to pull them away from their work, the argument gets heated, until the pressure becomes too much and causes an intense explosion…literally. 

Necessary Criteria: “You’re not even smart enough to understand what I do, and you think you get to tell me when to stop working?!”

Prompt 2: The alchemist’s work is starting to consume them. Blinded by their pursuit of knowledge, they recklessly decide to slip a bit of their newest experimental concoction into their companion’s meal without their knowledge. The alchemist convinces themselves this is all for the greater good, and surely nothing all that bad could happen, but soon comes to regret it. 

Necessary Criteria: A horrible transformation. 

The Tongue May Be Twice As Sharp And Thrice As Lethal As The Blade…

Smut + Swords 

Prompt 1: A rivalry between two swordsman gets a bit out of hand when the pair decide to make a salacious bet over a duel: whoever loses must play submissive to the other, starting from the moment they drop their sword. 

Necessary Criteria: “Don’t think I’ll surrender that easily.” / “Mm, I didn’t think you would…I like it so much more when you’re fiery.”

Prompt 2: A courageous knight rescues a royal from the clutches of peril, and their majesty simply can’t let their hero leave without thoroughly rewarding them for such bravery. 

Necessary Criteria: The pair narrowly avoid being caught in the act. 

Cursed Is The Man Who Dies, But The Evil Done By Him Survives…

Horror + Hexes

Prompt 1: Foolish explorers accidentally wander into a witch’s garden. One of them can’t resist plucking a berry from a bush, not giving it a second thought as they swallow it down, only for the horrific consequences of a curse to start taking form the next day. 

Necessary Criteria: “Please…you have to tell me you know how to make this stop.” 

Prompt 2: While treasure hoarding is generally frowned upon among honorable bounty hunters, some simply can’t kick the habit. This quickly proves to be a terrible mistake, though, as a cursed trinket starts to warp its owner’s mind and plunge them into a darkness that turns them on the one they love most. 

Necessary Criteria: Creative use of an everyday object as a weapon. 

Final Reminders:

Most importantly: Have Fun! 

Make sure to read the rules carefully! 

You’re always free to ask questions! 

Tag me in your entry + use the tag #lucifer’s 5k fantasy challenge! 

Happy Writing, everyone!

(even if you don’t plan to participate, please reblog and share this post so others will see it!)

[ghostybaby000]

Gone | Part 1

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: 18+, fighting, cursing, general violence, symptoms of panic, fluff

Tag List: @yyiikes @talooolaaloolla @strawberrygato @cumsluut @sofiacoppolaslut @blackbeautyiloveyouso @casalucard @identity2212

You squeeze his hand as you push through the large crowd of people. There’s noises coming from every direction, people no more than a few inches apart at a time. You make your way outside the building to being outside, leaves and other debris you can feel crunching under your feet as you follow Simon. There were still far too many people outside for you to even think of letting go of his hand, you were sure to get lost. 

He makes his way through the sea of people, keeping his head down with you directly behind him, there was no way you were letting go of his hand, he squeezes yours ever so slightly to remind you that he wasn’t letting go either.

 You both finally push into a clearing where you see he’s found a table, and it feels like you can breathe again. You sit down at the small table as Simon pulls up a chair to be seated with you, scraping the concrete as he does. You look around the park where rides flew in the background, loud noises of machines were going off in the distance, and you hear people laughing as they pass by. You were just about exhausted, but the excitement of being here with him only grew with every new machine or challenge you found. You feel the ache in your feet from the hours that you’ve already been here, and looking to Simon you can tell he is just as tired. 

As Simon is unfolding the map to the park, you see a familiar set of faces approach from behind Simon. Before they reach him he turns around to see them both, John and his date. You wave hello as Simon stands to pull another table closer to yours. John grabs a set of chairs in each arm, and places them to be seated across from you and Simon. 

Both John and Simon chatted as you and his date did the same. It was originally meant to be a double date, but you both found you wanted to do different things and instead agreed to meet after a few hours to check in. John’s date was a medium height with long wavy hair, and a good sese of humor. You had only met her once or twice before but always found her to be welcoming. You chat over the rides and how scared John’s date was at the thought of rollercoasters, and how John thought the games were tampered with, earning him a dramatic eye roll. Under the table Simon’s hand thumbed over your thigh as they spoke, you wouldn’t ever protest the constant connection to him. After probably a half hour, John’s date was itching to see more of the park and admittedly you were too. Saying goodbye to the two of them as you again were hand in hand with Simon to another portion of the park. 

This park wasn’t incredibly large, in fact you could probably know your way around without the map by the end of the night, although they were still handed out at every other booth just in case. One part was sectioned off for food while the other sections held rides and booths to play games. Simon had been following you around, taking on the challenges of a few different booths, some of them being more difficult than he’d expected. He saw how your face lit up when you saw a reward from behind a stand, and he knew it was yours. One booth in particular got his attention, lights surrounded its frame with plush toys hanging on either side. The goal of this booth was to throw a baseball at glass bottles, and by knocking down a certain number of bottles, you would get a prize. 

He started out by giving a reasonable toss, one that looked as if it should of knocked over the bottles with ease, they didn’t move. He tried again this time throwing slightly harder, one of the bottles falls. The man behind the booth demanded that for the larger rewards, you had to make all of your throw’s count, Simons eyes narrowed at the man. You tug on his sleeve,

‘Oh c’mon Simon there’s so much more to look at! Let’s go.’ Simon pulls out his wallet and hands the man more money, as you gently let go of his shirt. He gives Simon three baseballs; each would have to hit and knock over the glasses. Simon takes a small step back before winding up and throwing the ball at the rows of bottles, he was determined. It hits two bottles taking them both down, making a clank as they fell. Again he leans into his throw, giving himself a bit of thrust he releases the next ball, one bottle knocking over. He rears back a third time to throw the ball, pushing himself just slightly harder, and it grazes the bottle, tipping over-it falls. 

Simon swells with pride, his posture becoming more straight, he looks at the seller and points to a plush a few rows back,

‘I want that one, right there.’ 

A smile comes over your face as people make their way through the park behind you, more busy now that night was getting closer. A group breaks to walk around you, you reach for Simons arm just as he steps forward and out of reach to get his prize, what looked like a stuffed animal. Someone brushes past you aggressively, pushing you backwards and farther from Simon, into the large groups passing by. you turn looking both directions for the person who had run into you carelessly, there were too many people to tell any difference between them.

You swear it was only a second, maybe less that you took your eyes off of his tall broad back.  You hear the rides behind you, people screaming in a joyous fear, when you feel hands come around to cover your mouth, and it all fades to black. 

Simon turns around on his heel, the pride momentarily spread on his face. He looks around thinking you were looking at a ride or had maybe found John again in the mix of people. His eyes bounce between peoples faces, searching for your features that were so familiar. He felt his hand squeeze around the bear you had wanted, that he had won you only seconds ago. Immediately Simon feels his chest tighten, an entire new anxiety taking his every thought. 

He searches for anywhere you could have gone, but there were just too many people. He feels his breaths becoming shallow as the panic strangled him with every thought. He goes back to the concession stand where you had been moments ago, stepping up onto the counter, he doesn’t hear the man telling him to get down. He doesn’t hear the people on the rides, he doesn’t hear the children screaming in the distance. He hears nothing but your sweet voice that kissed his ears moments ago, the sound of his heart pounding in his head, the sound of fear taking hold. 

[myfairkatiecat]

okay so shannon giving us a keefe pov seems actually lowkey important and what i would do in the story rn but I'm not convinced she's going to use it to do the things I feel like we need her to do.

let me explain.

Shannon set Sophie up as a character who behaves certain ways. A lot of those ways are very good, and she's certainly a hero, but she also has character flaws that get worked through. For example, she can be a little reckless (personally I would have made all the same choices) (I know we think of Keefe as the reckless one but he's a different type of reckless) she can prioritize the wrong things, she can be disorganized, etc (all things that are super valid and understandable and make her relatable btw. I am a sophie foster defender)

and BECAUSE sophie is the protagonist, we see all of this develop. She has certain qualities that are a little stagnant sometimes, at least if you look from the outside, but there's actually a ton of development going on. She hears others' opinions on her actions, good and bad, and the reader sees how this impacts her and how she grows and changes, even if that change is nonlinear or in many ways she stays the same and just grows more mature.

Here's the thing about Keefe. he wandered out of side character territory and into second main character territory starting at the end of everblaze and peaking in legacy. And Shannon has been INTENTIONALLY writing him with consistent character flaws since the beginning, explainable by his past circumstances in fascinating ways. But we aren't there to see a lot of the falling out for that stuff.

A lot of people complain that keefe never faced consequences for stealing the caches or never had the black swan or adults yelling at him or mistrusting him or his friends avoiding him. And like... we do not know that. It could simply be that that was just not Sophie's problem at the time. Sophie also may have simply not been one of the people giving him a difficult time about it. In fact, we know she wasn't, but boy oh boy Fitz certainly didn't bounce back in less than five seconds. And we don't know what the Council and/or black swan did with him that sophie just wasn't involved in--and bc it didn't become relevant to the plot from sophie's perspective, sophie being the actual MC, it just seems unimportant.

Another thing is that Keefe has a lot of the same character flaws throughout the series, but they do shift somewhat with his experiences, and that's without us even seeing in his head, you know? So here's the thing.

Shannon went and started developing Keefe like a second protagonist (who is interestingly also an anti hero in some ways) and even if you aren't a person who thinks he's the most developed character on the paper (disagree but see where you're coming from) he's DEFINITELY most developed in shannon's brain, and that bleeds through. But then we ONLY see Sophie's perspective BECAUSE THIS IS SOPHIE'S STORY, and everything revolves around what is relevant to the plot from her perspective, and then keefe is just in the background being extremely important and relevant and having all these extra issues that we ONLY ever see from sophie's perspective.

Unlocked was... well, it was half a book, and only half of it was keefe. I actually do think his perspective was enlightening in some ways, but a full keefe book at this point kind of seems necessary to me. Because... he's taken on the role of another main character in this story, but we don't see any of that development happening, and for a lot of people i can see that getting taxing. Now I get that those same people also wish keefe would just. step back from the plot. and i get that! but I think with the way he's involved in the plot NOW, seeing his perspective is important, because sophie's POV (especially with her unreliable narration) doesn't give us enough of a window into the complexity that is keefe's worldview right now, especially with all the ways he keeps impacting things. it's just a really important perspective to have at this point.

Shannon, if unraveled is just keefe trying different human foods and giggling like a kotlc react on wattpad, I will probably enjoy it bc i love your work always, but i will also be shaking you by the shoulders because we need this book and you better spend it doing the things we need

[physalian]

On Hyper Independent Characters (and how not to make them the bad guy)

So many characters with “trust issues” are painted out to be cynical little gremlins who just need to ~open their hearts~ and ~let the love in~ like doing so, repeatedly, has only proven them right every single time, but this one love interest will swoop in and save the day.

The people who write these characters tend to do so in bad faith, as if their fears and trust issues are unfounded nonsense, like they’re wrong and Negative Nellys for being wary.

So!

From experience (thus this is hella biased), here’s some thoughts on writing an independent character with trust issues that isn’t belittling.

1. It’s likely not that kind of trust they have issues with

I said this before a while ago, but “trust issues” paired with an extreme sense of self-reliance isn’t “I think everyone is a liar,” but rather “I think everyone is unreliable”. It might stem from a place of constantly being let down, of constantly having the people in their life drop the ball on major events, but also little things, even something as simple as “hey yeah I’ll totally do the dishes” and then they continue to sit there, forcing the person to be a nag about it, or just do it themselves.

These kinds of personalities tend to grow up surrounded by unkept and empty promises, where, while it might not be every single occasion, it happens one too many times for them to keep giving the benefit of the doubt. Even when people have the best of intentions and mean it when they say they’ll do XYZ in the moment, and they really just forgot, the person they made the promise to is impatiently waiting for them to remember 12-day-old dishes.

2. Why don’t they just remind people to keep their promises?

If you’re in my boat, many people with commitment issues are also narcissists or just mean, who, if you even gently remind them, make you out to be a nagging, impatient brat. And to avoid hearing that again, you just don’t speak up. Too many times where ‘forgetting’ has been from a source of a weird power fantasy, intentionally screwing you over, leaves people sitting in a state of unknowing whether it’s benign neglect or very much on purpose, and afraid to voice their concerns to be proven right.

If you’re not in my boat, chronic “forgetters” aren’t going to change without intervention. So if I ask you to do the dishes once, and you forget, that’s one thing. If I ask you twice, three times, four times, nagging over and over again, then the benefit of the doubt is shredded, and I can’t help but assume that the “forgetting” is on purpose. Either weaponized incompetence or something more benign, doesn’t matter. Even if you have some executive dysfunction, that's an explanation, not an excuse, and the people you live with aren't your maids.

Either way, these personalities might grow up with a whole slew of self-worth issues, and be reluctant to make plans with people, invite friends to important events, or get excited about big milestones, because they’re so used to people they care about “forgetting” or canceling last minute that the only one they can trust to reliably show up is themselves.

3. Why don’t they just communicate these fears?

See the “narcissists” in point 2

4. Isn’t it lonely never letting people in?

Fuck yeah, it is. The thing is, though, that if you spend your whole life learning how to do everything alone—pay your bills, do ‘couple’ or ‘friend’ activities, run errands, take yourself out to places—the idea of having to squeeze in the wants and needs of someone else might start to sound incredibly inconvenient.

If you’re so used to being on your own schedule and reaping the benefits of being a party of 1 in crowded spaces (I just took myself to dinner at a place with an hour long wait, able to be seated immediately at the last remaining barstool), of not having to wait for someone else to confirm plans, negotiate who’s driving, negotiate a time to meet up, food to order, a movie to see, a roller coaster to ride, a game or streaming service to buy—everything is entirely under your control, sacrificing convenience for the chance that the person you invite actually shows up on time and is invested as you are isn’t really worth the risk.

That's not to say I don't enjoy when I get to do things with friends, but I can equally enjoy doing things alone as opposed to whining about it.

Personally, while I can daydream about having a romantic partner, that thought is always immediately followed up by the understanding that they’ll be an inconvenience to my independence. But I’m someone who’s always had to do the emotional labor in a relationship, who’s always the most organized, the most mature, the most level-headed in tough situations. Always been the person in groupwork who does all the work. The idea of being “a team” is a fantasy meant for other people. “Team” to me is “me and this deadweight that I have to drag around”.

5. How I’d like to see this represented in characters

Dropping “the one” into their lives and having this person swept up, broken out of their little pessimistic shell, in some epic romance, as if they only needed to find the right person and nothing at all goes wrong… is bad faith.

It’s bad faith because it minimizes this kind of independence as just a little mood problem that can be fixed right quick, that it’s inherently wrong—what was all the fuss about?

What I’d like to see is examples that prove they’re not crazy. Big and little things. Dishes, and big events. Then, they can meet “the one,” but not without some trial and error. A lifetime of “people suck and are unreliable” isn’t going to be snapped away bibbidi bobbidi boo after one good date. This magical person will have to show up, and keep showing up, and keep showing up, and the one time they don’t, because they won’t, then A and B can hash it out like adults.

6. How this person might act

I’ve never actually met somebody like me and we’d either be best friends or loathe each other. But this person might be the most reliable friend you’ve ever had, because they’re so afraid of becoming like everyone in their life who let them down before. If you ask a favor of them, it gets done with supernatural haste.

This person might also have their own commitment issues, where instead of failing to keep their promises, they punish themselves by keeping promises they hate, showing up out of spite and resentment because they said they would, lest they be called a hypocrite.

They might under-share or not speak up about accomplishments in their life until the time for hype and anticipation has passed, lest they share expecting the same level of excitement only to be met with apathy. They might not show visible excitement about objectively exciting things, because they’re so used to plans falling through that they won’t believe something is happening until they are physically in the location and it’s staring them in the face.

Thus, they might look frequently bored or unhappy and unmoved by something important to you, or something you thought they’d like (especially if you’ve let them down before, trust is a privilege, not a right).

7. What I’d like people to understand most of all

First, that some of us tend to live by the “if you want something done right do it yourself” mantra, so actually asking somebody for help with something is admitting that X cannot be done alone, which makes failure to keep a promise even worse. As in, if A goes out of their way to admit they can’t do F alone and risk being let down to ask B to do this one little thing for them, and B still drops the ball, A is going to sit there and think “this is why I have trust issues”.

Can’t speak for everyone, but yes I do acknowledge that the suffering in silence isn’t helping anyone and am working on it. Counterpoint: Weaponized incompetence is very real and an adult should not have to remind another adult to keep their living space clean, at the bare minimum. Agreeing to do a thing is at least equal responsibility on the inviter and invitee and "you didn't remind me" isn't a valid excuse.

But most importantly, if you have a friend or relative who is fiercely independent, I’d implore you to learn one thing: Do not make promises that you can’t keep. And if shit happens and you have to cancel even when you had the best of intentions, have the decency to tell them and make the best effort you can to reschedule ASAP, instead of putting the impetus on them to do the rescheduling. Make it absolutely clear that you do, in fact, care, and weren’t going out of some apathetic sense of obligation.

I cannot count the amount of times I have asked a friend to do something for me, they eagerly agreed, and then my very real deadlines come and go and they say absolutely nothing, so I have to nag them, and nag them, and then they turn it back on me with a “obviously you can see that I’m busy and you’re not paying me for this” when all they had to do was say “no I can’t help you” (two whole humans; we are not friends anymore).

The ability to be approached with a request for a favor, step back and think about it, and go “No, I don’t think I can do that in that time frame/at this moment I’m going through a lot/with the skill the task requires” is apparently ridiculously rare. I’d infinitely prefer a no upfront than a yes, bank on that yes, and then wait around hoping someone follows through.

Not saying anything is really rude. If you agree to X, the person who asked you is fully expecting you to do X. They shouldn’t have to be lining up backup plans and last minute helpers scrambling to do the job you promised would get done.

—

Not exaggerating when I say it happens in so many areas. I’ve needed very important things like recommendation letters, or actual paid beta readers on a very hard deadline and still scrambled at the last minute to find replacements that sometimes cost real money for rush fees. I’ve been left waiting at an event for an hour minimum only to finally receive a ‘hey I can’t come’ text and then go home. I’ve told people multiple times, “hey, if you’re going to do X, please do it like this and have some consideration for my things that you’re borrowing” and just… be ignored.

As somebody who gets whatever’s asked of me done immediately, no matter how busy I am, man is it hard to keep accepting “sorry I forgot” as an excuse, from multiple people, multiple times.

The nice thing, though, the big benefit of hyper-independence is that I have learned so many skills out of a compulsion to just do it myself instead of gambling with the accountability of another flighty human. Handyman things for my home and my car, but artistic things, too. So there’s that.

[mixelation]

*devil on your shoulder voice* what if you went into a really detailed rant about why you hate the earth is space australia posts

>:(

common themes i don't like:

"oooh humans scawwy because PREDATORS" - shut the fuck up. you're being childish. are you aware that YOU are also prey in the right circumstances? predator-prey dynamics are diverse and often shifting (look up "intraguild predation"). you are literally making interspecific interactions less interesting by doing this

"pack bonding" - this isn't a thing. this isn't a term i can find used outside of this specific genre of post and a couple of dog training books. it has no biological or sociological basis. i asked a psychologist about it and they said y'all are wrong

why are we making posts hyping up humans, only to write those posts as terrified of interacting with the incredible diversity of human behaviors and attitudes and cultures. like in these posts humans are all universally "bonding" with strange creatures and acting like physical tanks in pressing situations. if the point was a love letter to humanity you'd think you'd get actual characters representing different facets of humanity instead of a single caricature

speaking of which, why are we romanticizing human traits which are not universal. yes, some humans can [physical feat] but many cannot. why do so many posts seem to be gloating over a "feat" i'm like 93% sure the OP cannot do

i hatehatehate the format of them as an alien having a conversation with a human, where the human calmly explains something about earth (almost always poorly/inaccurately) while the alien freaks out. i hate how 50% of the sentences either begin or end with the phrase "but yeah" because the writer doesn't know how to conclude a thought when they're waxing poetic about a topic they have a very shallow knowledge on

posts often don't seem to realize they're implying absurd things about how aliens work. like i just read one about how earth is ultra diverse, implying aliens have very low biodiversity, and earth is shocking for the aliens. however, if true, without the ongoing coevolutionary arms race provided by a diverse environment, how did the aliens evolve to the point where they have space travel? i want to know about how THAT planet works, not read someone on tumblr recite a bunch of lukewarm biology facts they only kind of half know

also why are there so many scenarios where the aliens meet their downfall because they just.... didn't do any observations/research before doing something? and it's never a clever thing like "they observed for years but missed X for Y reason." it's always just like "....and then they were dumb and we were so clever and smartbrained!!!"

idk why tumblr is obsessed with taxonomy but they get especially bad at it when aliens come up. guys. the aliens would use different systems because they have a separate evolutionary history. or if they used the same system--- why?! how did THAT happen???? see my point about implying absurd things about aliens

"isn't science terrifying" - NO IT'S NOT, THAT'S JUST HOW THINGS ARE???? i hate this attitude and i find it boring. also no offense but i don't get the appeal of writing aliens shaking in their boots at the idea of [earth thing] instead of being excited to find a cool knew thing. like why go into space if you're not enthused by finding out new things and getting to learn about how the universe works. why is the interest in otherworldly biology never mutual. why is it so important to you that aliens be afraid of us and humans be the most specialest darlings in the universe

back to the "conversation" format. i know most people are not scientists so there's no reason to know this, but. most biologists know a lot about one thing and not a lot about everything else. your intro bio professor seems like they know a lot because they know intro bio and you do not. if you started asking in depth questions about, idk, the wrong type of fungus or something, they'd tap out. so it drives me batty when "scientist" characters are written like they're genuinely trying to explain something where most biologists would be like "uh, well, that's not my area of expertise--" like yes I understand part of the appeal of those posts is that some people just like listing things that they know. however one thing that i know is how biologists tend to talk and you're hurting me

[spockandawe]

Oh, this is interesting. To me. I'm not sure it's interesting to anyone else! But I'm on my computer for once and FULL of words again, and I'm delighted to talk to myself given half an excuse.

So, I made a post about Long Live Evil! Because I cracked open the book and was absolutely taken aback by how transparently it seemed to be an SVSSS reskin. I wrote up a goodreads thing (it's whatever, I'm going to rehash the main points here too), because I was also full of words and beans after finishing the book yesterday, and after polling online friends, I was surprised to see that the comparison didn't seem to have organically occurred to anyone else, when it was so naked to me. I know there’s a TON of transmigration and isekai stories out in the universe, and pointing at one single book was a big claim, so I just had to assemble all my thoughts! I find this so interesting! And I reblogged my initial one-off post with a little more elaboration about some of the things that jumped out at me, then got on with live and went back to chipping at ORV and GHG, and shotgunned MADK this afternoon.

This is a subtle nod and a wink to my passionate love for these kind of... morally grey main characters! Calling them villains might be a bit much, I don't think there are many true villain protagonists out there (LLE included), and even Devil Venerable has a demonic cultivator who's doing demonic shit and killing loads of people... but with the ultimate balance of the heavens and earth as his priority. This kind of story is my jam. I was recced this book on the basis of transmigration and sketchy protagonists being my thing. I can't rightfully call SVSSS the best cnovel I've ever read, but it is my favorite. And I've probably reread it more times than any other cnovel.

So, that SRB post, huh? I put Long Live Evil behind me, and honestly even following up on the sequel is mmmmmdoubtful, but THIS snagged my attention again. First, the comparisons she's calling out as incorrect are wild to me. Draco and Harry? What? Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian?? (I had to ponder that one for a hot minute, but I bet you anything it's about 'the golden cobra' and 'the last hope' and that's just silly, they're not wangxian, they're MOSHANG)

I was recced LLE in one friend group, but I had an anti-rec from my book club friend group. My book club friend hadn't been at all impressed by it! And she's cool, and I talk up svsss and mxtx to that crowd every so often, without really expecting them to read it. I talk about transmigration as a plot device that I love, and the things that can be done with it! But with that connection in mind between the books, as I started LLE, I was jokingly defending the honor of SVSSS to this crowd, so I admit I was primed to recognize similarities.

I really truly did not make it far in the book before locking it down. I was getting vibes basically from the moment Rae started gushing about her problematic fictional fave, I referenced 95% certainty shortly after she makes the jump to the fictional universe, the golden cobra was 98%, Lia Mingyan's, I mean Liu Mingyan's lack of sex scenes was 99%, and the first pov section for Marius-jun was where I gave up and called it as a sure thing.

It'll be very funny if I'm wrong! I don't think I'm wrong.

Plenty of spoilers to follow, because I identified this inspiration early, I guessed basically every plot twist early, I don't have the patience to dance around spoilers while explaining how it all lines up.

Now, I said this elsewhere, but it bears repeating: I don't think this is plagiarism. I think it's tasteless to accuse an author of stealing and repurposing characters to her face. But I think it's also tasteless to repurpose characters as nakedly as happened here! Again? If I'm wrong? That's why I'm talking to myself on my blog and not messaging her directly (?????? who even does that). What are the stakes for me being wrong here? I look like a clown online? That would be terrible, I've never done that before! It's not a crime to write in ways I find distasteful. It's not a crime to write a book I think is not good, even apart from the use of fictional influences. But I like talking about my feelings online, and I can't be stopped!

But there's two aspects of this that make me somewhat uncomfortable in a less fun way. Both are contingent on the big IF. If this is inspired by svsss, I think it's not a classy move to take a Chinese story in a Chinese setting, inspired by the modern Chinese literary scene and classical Chinese fantasy, and just dump the characters into a generic western setting. Fanfic? Have fun and try to be respectful. Profic, making money off it? Ehhhhh. The question of how much change is necessary is a tricky one! It's not one I'm equipped to answer, this is not my wheelhouse or my place to speak. But it doesn't make me feel good!

However, here's where I have more personal stake:

Again, if this is inspired by svsss. It really doesn't feel great to see a queer story (a smash hit in more than one country!) stripped down for parts and made into a heterosexual story. It's not all heterosexual, we get side lesbians, we get men with homoerotic tension. But the central ship is now a guy and a girl. And it... stings a little extra, because in the story of svsss, the idea of assumptions about default (hetero)sexuality are such a central theme. A queer man has written a trashy, oversexed stallion novel where the hottest guy in the universe collects the hottest women like pokemon, and it sells so much better than the more personal stories he tried to write. He has to write this pandering trash to make money to live, he can't live on the more authentic stories he tried to tell before. The protagonist is the projection of his own insecurities and self-hate, and the protagonist's right hand man is his projection of his own ideal man. Another man transmigrates into the book, assuming that he himself is straight, assuming the protagonist is straight, and the force of their love changes the course of the entire narrative. In retrospect, it's upsetting to see those load-bearing themes casually carved out of the story and the hollowed-out remains used like this.

Anyways, in their place, now we've got running gags about how the heroine's tits are BIGHUGE now and she can't keep her balance because her GIANT HONKERS keep tipping her over.

I'm a little more bothered than I was yesterday! On the other hand, since I saw SRB's post, I've been chewing on that central ship. Full disclosure, it was one of my favorite aspects of the novel! My other favorite aspect is the dynamic between the golden cobra and the last hope (the moshang, which I think some people misdiagnosed as wangxian).

I know that the central ship here is the thing that's LEAST comparable to svsss, and the biggest roadblock in the way of my theory. On the other hand, I think it was the thing that HAD to change if this story was going to repurpose svsss without getting called out for being a classic 'bro can i copy your homework' adventure.

For this section, let's assume that I'm right and let's roleplay an author trying to figure out how to change Bingqiu into something not-obviously-Bingqiu. How do we need to differentiate Rae and Key from Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe.

First, we eliminate the martial sect thing. Easy peasy! That's a wuxia concept, and this book goes full nondescript western fantasy. She's not his teacher, he's not her student. And if she's not his teacher and he's not her student, why does this woman have power over this man, to build up the resentment that inspires him to turn the tables on her later? Well, in nondescript western fantasy, she's a noblewoman of some kind, and he's a servant of some kind. Noble lady treats servant like garbage, servant resents her. Doing great.

And to loop back around to the beginning of this a little, I think it really is key to this reskinning that Rae is a SHE. If the central ship remained queer, it would be so, so hard to pull away from the most identifiable thematic aspects of svsss. And pieces of what remain are... kind of bizarre for a normie heterosexual ship where our protagonist is aware that she's transmigrated into an impossibly desirable sexpot character!

Shen Qingqiu never considers that Luo Binghe might be interested in him because Luo Binghe is about to have a HAREM of beautiful women, he's the most heterosexual man of all time, and Shen Qingqiu is straight too! Besides, Shen Qingqiu is his teacher! He half-raised Luo Binghe! Even if Luo Binghe was bent, he wouldn't be interested in an old man like Shen Qingqiu!

Rae is 20, occupying a 24-year-old body. Her character's sexiness is relentlessly remarked upon from start to finish. Key is 18. Why is Rae so sure that he looks up to her as... a mentor, as an older woman? He almost goes down on her! He makes out with her! And she's like 'ah yes, it means nothing. lol. so funny how these things happen.' Bruh, at least after Luo Binghe kissed Shen Qingqiu, Shen Qingqiu finally got hit with the clue stick. Binghe didn't try to blow him only for Shen Qingqiu to keep noodling on about how Binghe definitely isn't into him in any sense, even the most oblivious man in the universe managed to catch on.

Why doesn’t Rae think there’s any chance of genuine attraction here? Yeah, I get that she's coming back from terminal cancer. She's doing great. She knows that the fictional character she occupies is one of the most desirable ladies in the land. He’s a teenager. He’s not expressing disinterest. A lack of horny for sexy lady ought to be more surprising for her. But I guess she’s slightly older than him and that small age gap has been magnified by the transmigration, so she conceptualizes herself only as his teacher, I mean mentor.

I’m not even mad at this dynamic. I love their chemistry, the ‘boss’ thing is cute, but lordt, I have to wonder if it’s meant to substitute for ‘shizun.’ But you know where this comparison really falls apart? Key isn’t really THAT much Luo Binghe.

At least, he isn’t in terms of personality. I mean, we’ve got the mysterious magical heritage, the healing factor, the unbeatable fighting skills, being beaten repeatedly because of the protagonist (tbh it’s sexier when she’s responsible, rather than just being a bystander), being yeeted into the abyss, I mean the ravine, to rise again and assume power as the merciless ruler of all the land. Oh, and he comes back from the dead still bearing the scar that represents her betrayal. In the original novel, he turned on her the moment he got his opening and was responsible for coming up with her gruesome torment.

(Also, Shen Qingqiu being terminally ill isn’t canon, but it’s very popular fanon, and it’s hard to ignore that with how hard the narrative lingers over Rae’s terminal illness as her gateway into this fictional world)

But! But the things that are different! Luo Binghe is a smart and sweet teenager, who had a rough start on the streets and has a tragically deceased single adoptive parent, but that’s their only backstory parallel, he doesn’t blacken until he’s thrown into the abyss. Not like Key, Key is a murder-happy sociopath, a former street kid who fought the odds and made good, and who’s a lot sharper and cleverer than the upper classes think someone like him should be. He utterly destroyed a righteous cultivator clan, I mean glassblowing guild, for the sake of revenge. Once our heroine scores a number of trust points with him, we unlock secret backstory about how as a small child, he experienced deeply formative hand trauma.

He’s Xue Yang.

It took me a moment to process the wangxian allegations SRB mentions in her post, because I was trying to figure out how someone would be aware of wangxian, and read that backstory, and somehow miss it. But it’s fine, I’m pretty sure they were actually talking about the golden cobra and the last hope! So LET’S TALK MOSHANG.

It was so funny. I was liveblogging the book to friends, because honestly, I do not jive with the buffy-esque joss whedon relentless quip-quip-quip writing style. I was struggling to stay engaged when the narrative never took a moment to breathe. And I perked up at the introduction of this new character! He seemed kind of fun, kind of meta, Key came over to share Secret Info with him, and I messaged the friend who recced this to me (also an svsss appreciator) ‘lol, what if he’s shang qinghua. just straight from svsss shang qinghua.'

Reader, a second transmigrator has hit the narrative.

Now, in some ways, he’s a disappointment to me. He’s not nearly as interesting as Shang Qinghua. Adding the author to their own narrative is way more fascinating to me than just dropping a rando into the story. But I’ll take what I can get, I think multiple transmigrators are almost always a fun decision. And for the queer reasons I mentioned above, I think Shang Qinghua ties into the themes of his novel a lot more strongly than Eric does here. I don’t want to call him ‘the golden cobra’ every time, I get more self-conscious every time I write it. And honestly, the reveal of Eric’s full Eric Whatever name feels a little awkward and… pointed compared to the sheer opacity of Shang Qinghua’s existence. Never mind what his name was in the real world, we don’t even know his name before he was a Peak Lord. I’m not upset we got a name or anything, it would make certain fannish activities a lot easier if Shang Qinghua had additional canon names, but it was an interesting detail in light of how parallel the characters are.

Okay! He’s not the author! He’s still a super-fan. He transmigrated into the book years before the LLE main character, and has settled in pretty well. According to canon as Rae knows it, he’s fated to be killed by his own favorite character. He’s fast-thinking and fast-talking, and scattered and all over the place, but dangerous when cornered and more competent than he looks. He deals in information and manages a network of spies. He’s a creative! He and the main character banter relentlessly and get along like a house on fire. He and the king’s trusted ice-cold right hand man share a weird codependent dynamic that’s part hostile, part homoerotic.

Marius has complicated feelings about not-shang-qinghua. Eric is a coward, he’d rather talk fast and lie than stand up for anything, he cowers and cringes and isn’t honorable. He and Mobei-jun also shared a deeply formative experience in their youth, where as a teenager in distress, Eric/Shang Qinghua appeared before them and announced their devotion. In Shang Qinghua’s case, it was offering to serve him (and saving him from huan hua injuries), and in Eric’s case, it was declaring him to be his favorite character (and saving him from sad teenaged isolation), but man. And in the end, after a long, fraught relationship, Marius/Mobei-jun is furious and strangely distraught when Eric/Shang Qinghua abandons him.

Guys, it’s not wangxian.

I think it hits less hard when Marius’s themes of family violence aren’t allowed to sit directly in the narrative, and when it seems like some vague berserker rage thing rather than Linguang-jun just bluntly wanting to murder him for practical reasons, but hey! This was still, genuinely, one of my favorite parts of the story. I wanted more more more of them, I would read this moshang au any day.

After that, the parallels get a little more nebulous! The comparisons between the abyss and the ravine are pretty obvious. I’m not sure why we decided to build our city and palace right on top of the pit of people-eating ghouls rather than literally anywhere else, but it means we don’t need to take a special field trip to Jue Di Gorge, which means we can do the bait and switch where it turns out Key was a heavenly demon all along. The temperamental King Octavian, the young master of the palace, one might even say the xiao gongzhu if they were feeling spicy, jealously tries to romantically monopolize half our main ship and has the other half flogged with a magic whip.

I already mentioned that Rae brings up that Liu Mingyan — wait, I said I’d change some answers so it wasn’t obvious I copied — Lia doesn’t get a sex scene in the books even though loads of other people did, just like Shen Qingqiu praises Liu Mingyan for her untouchable image in such an oversexed, gratuitous book. I don’t think it would be right to call Liu Mingyan a white lotus heroine in either SVSSS or PIDW, but her archetype is in that wheelhouse, and Lia is just a white lotus rival played straight (and played deliberately, another touch I liked). We don’t have made up animals like black moon rhinoceros pythons in LLE, but we do have leucrotas, which are like a lion and a hyena and serve no narrative purpose.

Oh, you know what else I forgot to mention? Rae gives Key one of her red ruby earrings, and he refuses to sell it, and stubbornly holds onto it until the bitter end. Is this Xue Yang holding onto the last piece of candy Xiao Xingchen gave him, or is it Hua Cheng determinedly keeping Xie Lian’s red coral earring with him even through his own death? Por que no los dos?

There are things that are original in here. I know that this presentation undersells how much of the book is original. The trouble is, almost everything I thought was good is something that either was lifted from another person’s creative endeavors, or is being tainted by association with all the other naked lifts. Some of the noble ladies have an archery contest! That’s pretty new and fresh, huh? We didn’t have any archery contests in SVSSS!

Yeah, but we sure did in MDZS. And MDZS is already in play, because we’ve already got one character who’s just copy and paste Xue Yang.

There’s a thermocline of trust in this book that fell off for me sharply, and it turned a lot of this into a guessing game of ‘wait NOW what the refrance? owo'

I’m probably on a hair trigger by now, but I’ve also probably missed some things. And I’m sure this is a synthesis of multiple influences, because most stories are. But this feels like cooking and trying to season your dish with a little salt and then the container lid just falls off.

Emer isn’t a clear parallel to an existing character! Love that for her! Love a lady with an axe, especially if she gets a nice girlfriend! On the other hand, in terms of backstory? Wow, she’s been raised with our protagonist since early childhood, as not-quite-foster-siblings, but she was always the clear unfavorite and harbors a lot of resentment over that. Oh, and once Rae entered the story, Rae started trying to speedrun an enemies to 'hello hiiii we should bestiessss' arc with her. I think she had to have an axe, because a whip or a sword would make the Jiang Cheng and/or Liu Qingge vibes a little uncomfortably strong. She doesn’t follow their character arcs! But the disappointing thing is that it felt like she was just there to facilitate pasting the frankenstein patchwork of the narrative together rather than having an arc of her own.

(why did Marius stop to give her a sword lesson? Why did she immediately sneak onto the roof to eavesdrop on the king?? It’s hard to give her credit for being an original character when none of her original actions make sense in the greater universe)

Oh, I almost forgot, we’ve even got magic plot macguffin plants. While Binghe is in the abyss, Shen Qingqiu needs to get the Sun And Moon Dew Flower Seed so he can build an escape hatch for himself before Binghe wrecks his shit. Rae, on the other hand, needs to secure the Flower of Life and Death by an arbitrary deadline as an escape hatch so she can go back to her original life rather than being trapped here forever. Very different! There’s even little side tangents about how these plants can be so beneficial to others, Zhuzhi-lang is desperately trying to secure a seed to build a new body for Tianlang-jun (which Shen Qingqiu enables him to do, despite not knowing what he wants it for), and Rae thinks about how the flower could “save someone on the very doorstep of death,” and gives it away for that exact purpose. So different!

I need to cut myself off, otherwise I’ll keep going. Truly, there is original content in here. It was just all the stuff I didn’t like. The character quipping was. God. There sure was a lot of it! By sheer volume, that’s a lot of original content. Some of the extended cast was interesting, I enjoyed the Horrors and their brothers, I liked Valencia. Now, I didn’t like how basically every girl ADULT WOMAN in this cast was in shitty teen mean girl mode. I didn’t like how immature every character interaction period was. I lost track of how many times Rae was going around in sexy clothes and rando servants were like “HARLOT,” out loud about a favored noblewoman, you know, as you do. Especially when her bodyguard is pulling against his choke chain just waiting for an excuse to do a murder. I don’t need Rae to be the picture of flawless maturity. But nobody is mature, full stop, not even the set dressing servants.

For a less loaded example, the cumplane friendship dynamic is here, practically intact. Shen Qingqiu can't snipe about authorial choices, because Eric isn't the author, so instead Rae and Eric squabble about favorite scenes and favorite ships and such. But it isn't nearly as charming when we don't see these two characters dropping their dignified Peak Lord cultivator roleplay to talk shit with each other. Rae and Eric never have a filter once in this book. They are always Like This, it isn't a secret face that gets unlocked when they're bouncing off each other, they are never circumspect, never have a filter, never have any idea they shouldn't be speaking their full thoughts at full volume 24/7. Even after this starts to have material consequences when they're inevitably overheard! It's an immersion-breaking level of immaturity, which is terribly frustrating when the original dynamic that I loved is only changed in such minor ways.

And another thing that actually tastes way more sour than it did on first reading – Valencia is probably the least mean girl of all the women in the cast. She’s delightful. Too bad that in every scene but her last one, Rae, who repeatedly references her own experiences having her body and appearance ravaged by cancer, cannot for love or money stop talking about how uggo Valencia is.

I know this is an adult novel. The characters are, by age, adults. There’s almost an oral scene. God, I wish we’d gotten the oral scene. But by every other metric, the characters are all high schoolers and I’m an exhausted adult muttering to myself ‘they’ll grow out of it, please GOD let them grow out of it.’

Again, none of this is a crime! Nobody forced me to finish the book! And I did enjoy the book. Parts of it! But that very distinct partial enjoyment experience almost forced me to dissect my own emotional response. And truly, other than a few flashes like Valencia, almost everything I enjoyed about the book was something I could trace directly back to one author, and mostly to one book by that one author. I… enjoyed half of the book. And if I can track most of that half back to mxtx and svsss, I really think that says something about how much wasn’t done to make the inspiration behind this book the author’s own.

It's disappointing! I read this book because I like svsss, I read it because I want more books like svsss, I read it because I trawl the novelupdates tags looking for more books that will hit me the way svsss did. It doesn’t taste good to be served reheated svsss with expired buffy sauce drizzled on top. It tastes even less good once I have a minute to think about what turning an m/m meditation on sexuality and self-image and assumptions about others into a m/f snooze does to the themes I loved so much. It stings to see an author rehash a book that was/is so important to me, and see what they kept and what they threw out, and be like ‘oh, so… these were the elements that mattered to you?’

Again, I hate to be redundant with this, but. I think calling this book plagiarism would be overdoing it. I think it’s tasteless. I don’t think being tasteless is a crime. It remains wild to me that she’s getting messages calling out her supposed inspiration, even if I’m simultaneously criticizing the judgment of the people making those specific comparisons. And I ABSOLUTELY understand why she’s reluctant to own up to the specific inspirations behind this book, because good lord. If it was me, I’d be professionally embarrassed too.

It’s not my job to be the book quality police, but I think someone as experienced as this should be able to do a better job of synthesizing inspirations into something original. I dropped ‘can’t afford to offend my scheming disciple’ earlier this year, because that narrative couldn’t shake the taste of stale svsss fanfic, and it was much more subtle than this is. Once again, if I’m wrong, this post will be retroactively VERY funny and I’ll be all ears to see what her inspirations actually were. I don’t think I’m wrong.