#writer as omnipotent

[illegiblehandwriting1]

put simply,

We are the ghosts under the floorboards We are the voices in his head We are the whistles of the treetops And the creaks around his bed

We are the shadows in the closet And the eyes along the hall We are the broken friends and family who all scream and shout and call

We are the memories of long ago the terrors of the night We are the footsteps no one left at all We are the reason that he fights

We can measure hugs and words of care We line up shining lives We haunt our blorbo evermore We choose if he survives

[r0semultiverse]

Kawaki Homophobia Moments

[helpmeimblorboing]

My main villain’s transformation over the years is so fucking funny, cause like he was born a fully-formed adult man out of a pool of liquid magma that spontaneously manifested inside his mother’s womb; had a depressive run-in with a human who tried to kill him after learning of his true nature, which taught him - this fledgling chick -about betrayal, and another with a small kid who died of sickness, teaching him about death.

And you know what he does after that ?

He takes an office job !! He just decides to integrate into human society. Sure, he incinerates any bosses who are overly rude to him and is an extreme taskmaster, but for all intents and purposes, he’s a loyal slave to capitalism

And then Damian shows up and ropes him into the Carneficina - this actual, literal terror cult composed of killers that is, in effect, actually a rather sweet family unit

So he becomes a greaser. Flaming motorbike and all, dragon tattoo running up his side, black hair slicked back with what looks like gel but is actually him purposefully making his hair shine to make it look like he puts gel in there. Carries around a gun that he effectively never uses, except for once when he enchanted its bullets to blow up inside his enemies’ flesh, solely for the sake of Rule Of Cool

And then the Red Massacre happened, and Serenity left the Carneficina. Damian became depressed, and all terror-y, murder shit grinds to a halt

So what does our intrepid antagonist do ? Go back to his old life ? Nah man !! He starts another cult named the Fireborn, positions himself as both its religious leader and god, and starts what is effectively a branching organisation, looping most cults of Dysphoria under the Fireborn’s sway. Like, this man has gone into full-on Satanic priest mode, goat-skull, red robes and all

And then one of his followers, the Pack Leader, betrays him and flees with a precious Artifact, and he chooses to give chase, ending up in London

And you know what this mad lad does next ? He grows himself a house (literally, out of the dirt like a tree) and settles in for the long haul, taking a job as a janitor and befriending the Pack Leader’s son as a fuck you to his former employee

Afarit, the man you are

[fionatheicicle]

If you are writing a book and you are describing something that is all knowing, the word you need to use is omniscient, not omnipotent.

Omnipotent is all powerful

Omniscient is all knowing.

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #214

Brain Curds are lightly edited daily writing - usually flash fiction and sometimes terrible on purpose.

Read God for a Day Act One and God for a Day Act Two first.

I found my body strolling along the boardwalk, smiling with a sickening ignorance of tragedy. Dietz was dead, and this monster in my skin was using my life as a vacation.

“Hey!” I yelled. He didn’t turn around. “I’m talking to you!”

“I am aware, Lillian. It would be best for your public reputation if you allowed me to lead us to a private space before we speak. Understood?”

So nonchalant. So disgusting. A universe of death and entropy, disguised as a prize, foisted upon me as He relished the quiet of being a single human. The horrors were unforgettable, unforgivable, and yet He walked as though He’d never seen them.

We entered a single-stall unisex restroom and He locked the door behind Him.

“Am I to take it, Lillian, that you are dissatisfied with this arrangement?”

“You are. My friend is dead.”

“And you killed him?”

“Not on purpose.”

“God does not make mistakes.”

“Well I fucking do!”

The room shook and He fell to the floor and started chuckling as blood flowed from His bitten lip. “Given every atom of power and knowledge I was afforded, freed from the confines of your human brain, given reign over all of existence, you still are incapable of recognizing the Truth. My only failure was my attempt to make your kind in my image.” He smirked. “Tell me, Lillian, how many sins have you witnessed as of yet? Uncountable, yes? This is but a taste of the Hell I have built for myself, and you sick people covet it. You simulate it in your computer games. You lust for power by any means and at any cost, and you dare blame me when things go wrong?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Is that what you truly want? You need not give commands as a God, you may perform any action without my consent. Ask yourself, what do you want? Your life back? I can’t send you back in time. I can’t take away from you what you have seen. Forever and always you will be cursed with this shame and guilt that you wanted so badly.”

“I never wanted this!”

“Didn’t you? Didn’t you when you relentlessly drowned and burned virtual people, laughed at their screams for help? The Truth is there for the knowing, and it is plain to see: their lives meant just as much as yours do. And you easily could have saved Dietz.”

The noise of the universe grew and grew, louder, louder, clawing at every aspect of my ethereal being like a rabid dog broken off a leash.

“God does not make mistakes - not because He is perfect, but because by definition what He does is done with precision, with purpose. With intent. Benevolence was always a ruse, Lillian! And you fools bought it! I shed no tears for what I’ve done for all of you! A God has no place for emotion and you have failed your test!”

He was overwhelming my senses. There was no doubt in my mind, he was doing this to me because he wanted me to fold. He wanted me to admit defeat and give him back his place on the throne of creation. I’d go back into my body, left to grapple with my actions and inactions alike, certain that life was meaningless and empty.

No.

I reached inside His chest and ripped out my heart. He looked at it and laughed, tears running down His cheeks. He said only four more words before collapsing to the dirty floor.

“Sweet darkness… take me.”

I killed God.

Please comment, reblog, like, and follow if you enjoyed - I'd love to know what you think! See you again tomorrow.

[swiftpooldoesstuff]

Can we get a lore rant about the space mans

*deep inhale*

Space Keeper is one of the founding keepers. Keepers are basically my OC world’s equivalent of the Greek gods.

The way the keepers work is each of them have control over one specific thing. In the beginning when there wasn’t really anything, there were the founding keepers that started to create stuff. As time went on, more things were being created that the keepers couldn’t keep track of, so they created (not like that-) more keepers to help them. These are the minor keepers.

Minor keepers are slightly less powerful keepers that serve mainly to adjust the work load and stabilize creation. Only founding keepers can make other keepers.

Anyway so back to Space.

Space, while having a broad range of stuff to keep in check, only has two minor keepers to assist them, those being Keeper of the Stars and Keeper of Moons. Space, like the other keepers, has their own personal realm, which is basically a really small galaxy (small as in the size of New York City).

Now to address Space’s wings.

So on Space’s ref sheet, they aren’t shown to have wings. That’s because they no longer do. Okay, we’ll technically they do but they don’t show them because they’re charred. Basically, they had these large, elegant white wings that were burned and destroyed in a fight among the founding keepers. What had happened was a disagreement between the founding keepers over how to go about with creating a universe, which spiraled into a fight, which created War.

War is not necessarily a keeper. They’re considered one by the majority of the keepers, but the founders don’t necessarily consider them one. War was not created intentionally nor by a specific keeper, and they don’t oversee a certain area of creation. Instead, they stir up trouble among the keepers and the creatures along the Timeline.

Space, while mainly uninvolved in drama unless it specifically involves them (this being one of the few times it did), was caught in the crossfire between conflicting sides, and when War made their dramatic appearance by literally blowing up the meeting hall, Space had attempted to shield Time and Energy (two other founding keepers) and ended up having their wings catch fire. When the hall collapsed, Space fell with it, all the way down to one of the planets. To the eyes of creatures in the universe, they saw a wonderful meteor shower. To the eyes of the keepers, they had just lost one of the most important keepers.

Space didn’t end up dying, but they did hide out on this planet for quite a while until Star and Moon found them and convinced them to return.

Since then, Space had been very quiet and oftentimes is found in the outer reaches of the universe or in their realm.

Anyway, feel free to check out their TH

[courtney-deserved-better]

platonic alecourtney is so...... you write them so well i love them idk i always thought they would get on each others nerves post her elimination but the way you write them has convinced me otherwise i love both of them sm

thank you!! canon doesn't give us a lot in actual friendship between them but it does give us seeds and boy oh boy am i gonna sow them.

[abiital]

I knew I was in deep shit, but man, the Devil herself coming to make me an offer? I was bound to give my own life if she asked for it. Of course, no good story comes without a little backstory -- even if it is half baked -- so let's get into that. I was in a rough time. Lost my house, got fired from my job, and was considering turning to robbing shit just to get by. That's when a portal to the infernal realm appeared directly in front of me while I was in an alley. She -- yes, she -- walked out from the portal, and honestly? She's less intimidating than I thought she would be. For context, I'm about 5'11. She was maybe 4'9, probably closer to 4'8, had a few horns -- though very small -- and infernal red skin, as per usual for depictions. Anyways, back to the deal. I couldn't even process what had just happened before she spoke to me. I thought I had too much whiskey when I heard her say "$5, and I'll give you anything you need," but no, after I repeated the sentence, she confirmed. "Just.. just $5?" "Yeah." "I was expecting you to, like.. ask for my soul or something." "Oh, nonono- That's a very harmful depiction of me and Hell's denizens. What you humans have made is already hell enough, so I made 'Hell' the equivalent of a more fire-y version." I couldn't argue with that, considering I'd just lost about everything I had overnight. Like any sane person would do in this situation, I asked if there were any rules to the deal. "So, like.. will I go to hell if I take this deal? Are there any rules to it?" To my surprise, there was no restrictions and no punishments. I could get anything I wanted for just $5. I could've increased gravity by a multiple of 9, just to see what happened. That'd've been pretty funny. After thinking for a minute, I handed her $5 -- still can't believe it was just $5 -- and requested my end of the deal. "Make me omnipotent. On this planet, at least. I already know if I ask for flat out omnipotence that you would deny --" She cut me off before I could finish my sentence. "I could make you fully omnipotent, but then you'd be subject to the laws and traditions of deities -- and since I would be the one that turned you omnipotent, you'd effectively become a noble to me." Fuck it, good enough for me. I took the deal, and now that it's been a few years, everything's great. The laws and traditions are a little weird -- we have parties in Hell every halloween, and man, the people in Hell know how to party, -- but regardless, I've adjusted. I usually just spend my time playing competitive games and slapping people through their computer screens when they talk shit.

In your hour of need, the Devil comes to you to make an offer, and he doesn’t request your soul in exchange. In fact, the price is suspiciously small…

[g-b-m-s]

I will never be able to read the word omnipotent without pronouncing it omni-potent in my head.

I know the meaning, I know the correct pronunciation. And yet.

Omni. Potent.

[evergone]

Lonely

Theodore Nott x Legilimens! reader

Warnings: Swearing.

Description: The reader has no friends until destiny (in the form of a boy named Theodore Nott) does everything to make her feel like she belongs.

In your first year, you were put in a dorm by yourself. You heard so many times that this was a gift — a sign of your good fortune, Professor Trelawney said — as everyone else in your year group had to share with someone else, but you, the introvert you were, were left to your own devices. Despite these assumptions, you quickly discovered that sharing a dorm was central to establishing friendships, and you spent the vast majority of your high school life friendless and alone.

At times, your boredom and your loneliness were so all-encompassing that you would read the minds of the first years who you knew wouldn’t be capable of sensing the imposition upon their thoughts. None of them thought of much. The boys were preoccupied with daydreams of girls and music (most of them were very into hip-hop as was the popular culture of the nineties), and the girls were nearly all stressing about parties and school work.

You were as much at ease with your situation as one could possibly be. You were of the mindset that if there was nothing you could do about it, why bother? Everyone had their cliques, their friends, and you were just the one to be left out. Your only goal was to get through the remaining year, then you would leave school, rent a house somewhere obscure, become a writer or an archaeologist or something else fun, and start your life over again. But it appeared that destiny had other plans.

Destiny, that supreme, omniscient, omnipotent concept that dwindled above and twisted within the interactions of all peoples, came to you in a free period you were spending in the library. The period before had been Charms, but that was of no consequence, neither was the fact that you had no more classes until later that night when you would make the journey to the Astronomy tower. You were sitting at a desk in the far left corner of the library, tucked between the pages of a number of books written by Z-named authors of some incredibly niche portion of history when Madam Pince’s high-pitched and troubled voice disturbed your rather unproductive attempts to finish your homework.

Ever bored, and hardly ever entertained, you leant to the side to see around the long bookcase. To your surprise, your eyes immediately met with a pair of blue ones. The irises were mere spots lost in the oceans of colour and they darted between you and Madam Pince, desperate for assistance. Behind those eyes, you could hear his mind asking for your help. If you was slightly smarter, you would’ve avoided this person’s gaze altogether and returned to your work.

“Madam Pince,” you said before allowing yourself a moment to think, and the frustrated librarian’s head turned to you in owl-like frustration, “Is everything okay?”

“Not at all,” she said, her voice an angry whisper, “Mr Nott should be in class, instead, he’s here violating my books!”

You glanced at the owner of the eyes. The green lining of his robe told you he was from your house, so you knew him even if only from afar. He hung out with the big group of your housemates most of the time, but you’d observed that he often sat by himself in the common room and the others intruded on his personal time. He was tall — probably six feet or so — and thin, with hair that was darker than blond, but most definitely not as dark as some of his friends’ hair. In the traditional sense, he was handsome, but you’d heard him speak in class before, and his voice bore an awkward intonation as if to speak was to curse which made him seem almost as nerdy as yourself. Despite this, every movement he made seemed elegant no matter his emotion, this was so inherent of a feature that even in that moment — when he was so clearly itching to turn and run — he was like a swan. His name was Theodore Nott, and you’d never spoken to him before.

“He’s supposed to be helping me with my homework,” you blurted out and Madam Pince quirked a pencilled-on eyebrow, “You know I’m terrible with, uh, Ancient Runes.” You both had that class together.

“Yeah,” nodded Theo as he stepped around her and stood by your side, “The professor said it was okay, I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.”

“As am I,” she frowned, “Tell her not to let this happen again.”

“Yes, Madam.”

With an irritated hum, she left the two of you alone. Theo turned to face you once she was out of earshot, and let out a sigh of relief before sitting down on the edge of the desk you were at.

“You’re in Slytherin,” he said obviously, “What year?”

You sucked in a breath of air, “Sixth. Yours.”

“Oh.”

His brain exploded with a million thoughts at once, his conscious and subconscious fighting for dominance. You could hear the embarrassment as he reprimanded himself for not knowing, and the confusion as he searched his memories for some sign that he had, in fact, seen you before.

“We have Potions together, and Astronomy, and Divination, and Ancient Runes, and… most of our classes, actually.” You shrugged without a care.

Theo cringed, “Sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed you before.”

“I don’t really make my presence known,” you said, “So don’t worry about it.”

“I’m Theodore Nott,” he introduced himself, hand outstretched towards you, “What’s your name? I don’t want to make the same mistake next time.”

“Y/n L/n,” you said and shook his hand. It was soft and had no callouses at all.

“I best be off, I’m missing Arithmancy.”

“Boring.”

“You’re telling me,” he chuckled and left the library.

Over the course of that afternoon, you were unable to tear your mind away from Theo, and none of your homework was completed as a result. You didn’t go to dinner in the Great Hall. Your mind was much too preoccupied to eat.

At eleven-thirty, your alarm sounded, and you washed your face in preparation for Astronomy. Professor Sinistra demanded that all her students wore their uniforms for her classes, even if said classes were at midnight, but there wasn’t a single person who ever did that other than Hermione Granger. Everyone else tended to pull their robes overtop their pyjamas and call it a day, yourself included.

The lesson wasn’t all that interesting as Sinistra had the class chart some stars for the whole hour. However, you barely managed to get anything done because you were so distracted by Theo who was sitting peacefully at the opposite side of the tower amongst his friends. Including Theo, there were five of them (you didn’t include Crabbe and Goyle, who you always thought were less friends than goons, or Millicent Bulstrode or Tracey Davis, both of whom you knew were periodically hated by the others). Two girls, three boys.

Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy, and finally, Theo. At seventeen, his hair was a mostly consistent length of woody brown curls that sat fluffily on his head — if anything it was maybe a bit shorter on the sides. His eyebrows were thick as they always were, and in that particular Astronomy lesson, they were hard pressed against the tips of his long eyelashes that seemed almost too feminine to belong to him. By far the most intriguing and attractive aspect of Theo was, of course, the prominent mole on his left cheek that stole your attention away from a tight-lipped smile he had thrown your way.

Your immediate reaction was to blush and avert your eyes, but upon glancing back and noticing he was still staring, you offered him a short wave. He nodded in response before turning to Draco and saying something too far away for you to hear.

The next morning, or, perhaps, later that morning is the right expression, you went to breakfast in the Great Hall. Not having eaten dinner the night prior had left you so completely starving. You could’ve eaten a pegasus. You sat down on the edge of the Slytherin table by yourself, and loaded a plate with two eggs, about five slices of bacon (it very well could have been more, your memory isn’t perfect), a piece of toast, and a spoonful of baked beans.

“Where are all your friends?”

You looked up to see Theo standing over you chewing on the end of a breadstick.

“Why do you ask?” you questioned.

“Because you’re sitting here by yourself and it looks a bit pathetic, L/n,” laughed Theo teasingly.

“I don’t really have any friends.”

“Oh,” said Theo, “Sorry I asked.”

You shrugged, and as he glanced to the middle of the table you shoved as much of the baked beans into your mouth as possible, and quickly swallowed them. Merlin’s beard, you were so embarrassed.

“Give me a sec,” he said absentmindedly and you almost thought to use your Legilimency on him, “I’ll be right back.”

He placed his breadstick in front of you as if it were a deposit meant to reassure you that he’d be back, but you weren’t fazed either way. You watched as he jogged over to his group of friends and started chatting with them, but never sat down. With his right hand, he motioned back at you, and you glanced away as the rest of them turned to get a good look at you. Suddenly, you were concerned about how well your makeup was applied, and if your uniform looked good, and if there was still too much food on your plate. And then, all of them stood up with their plates, and followed Theo over to sit around you.

Most of them sat on the other side of the table, but Theo sat next to you, and Blaise by his other side. He introduced you to everyone: Goyle, Crabbe, Draco, Pansy, Daphne, Blaise, himself (“but you know me already,” he’d joked).

“It’s crazy to think we don’t know you despite being in the same house as you for the past six years,” said Daphne and Pansy elbowed her in the waist, sending her a death glare.

“Excuse her,” Pansy smiled awkwardly, “She’s a bitch.”

Your ears tickled at the word. You weren’t used to people calling those they were friends with such vulgar names… You weren’t used to the idea of friends at all.

Draco started rattling off about half-bloods and “that darn Potter,” spurring his friends into a rather heated conversation. They laughed and cackled loudly at each other, entirely easy around you as if it didn’t matter at all that they didn’t know you.

“Is this okay?” Theo asked you in a whisper once the group had moved on to another topic of conversation.

“Yes, this is nice,” you responded with a blush over your cheeks as you tried not to smile, “I don’t remember the last time I spoke to so many people.”

Theo’s eyes softened, glazed with a thin layer of water that informed you of his empathy. He felt your loneliness as if it was his own. The image of a young version of himself locked in his bedroom, wailing for his long deceased mother, flashed in his memories and seeped into your brain. An involuntary consequence of your extraordinary Legilimency talent.

When Saturday finally arrived, you slept in the whole morning. You only awoke at the sound of a knock on your door followed by a series of laughter at ten o’clock. You rolled out of bed, and for a moment stopped in horror of your hair in front of the mirror to quickly tie it up, and then opened the door.

You were surprised to see Pansy and Daphne there, but even more so when Daphne asked, “It’s Hogsmeade day, why aren’t you ready?”

“Huh?” You said, squinting at the light of the hallway.

“Theo sent us up to grab you, get some clothes on and let’s go,” said Pansy as she pushed past you and slipped into your room, Daphne hot on her heel, “Merlin’s beard, there’s absolutely nothing in here.”

“Yeah, uh, I’ve got it all to myself,” you muttered.

“Oh, that’s got to be terribly boring,” said Pansy.

Both of the girls made themselves at home as they rummaged through your drawers looking for something nice to wear. They were both dressed very well themselves, and it made you a little self-conscious to think they were going to see all your cheap clothes.

Pansy threw a sheer white shirt you didn’t know you had and a pair of bootleg jeans onto your bed while Daphne kicked over some matching joggers and a big white handbag you’d stolen from your mother.

“It is terribly boring,” you said.

As the three of you descended the stairs (after you got dressed, of course), you could already hear the sounds of masculine voices teetering on yelling at one another. One of them you knew to be Theo’s, and while you weren’t particularly familiar with them, you were inclined to assume the other two voices were Draco and Blaise. At the bottom step out of the girls’ dormitory hallway, you were proven correct when you saw them bickering like old men at a weekend golf tournament.

Draco was the first to notice the three of you, and his grey eyes lit up at the sight, “L/n, come settle an argument for us.”

You walked to join the small group and stood beside Theo, your handbag held meekly between your fingers, the nails of which had magenta paint flaking off them.

“Your mate Theo here—” Draco gestured to him with an uninterested hand, and you nearly laughed at the idea that Theo was your mate more than he was any of the others’— “Thinks that we ought to have a Legilimens registry like we have for Animagi. Frankly, I think it’s absolutely blasphemous that we even have one for Animagi; let them run wild, I say! What are your thoughts? Don’t mind the coincidental pun.”

“I’m afraid I’m a bit biased in this conversation,” you spoke quietly.

“How do you mean?”

The faces of the group stared at you with raised brows, and eyes that glistened with interest, and you were red from the attention.

“Well, I’m a Legilimens,” you admitted, “So, I’d have to disagree with you, Theo, for my own sake.”

“Are you really?” Theo asked to break the silence, and you nodded shyly.

“That’s so cool!” Daphne all but squealed, “What number am I thinking of?”

“Seven.”

She brightened with delight, and slapped Pansy’s arm, encouraging her to try your magic out like a little game. Pansy did just that, and you ended up going around the whole group, describing what they were thinking of. Eight. Twelve. Bakery. Seven. And Theo was questioning why you weren’t already on the way to Hogsmeade.

With that final thought, they grew disillusioned by the game, and you began the walk to Hogsmeade.

You’d never been into town with other people before, not that you went much at all. You usually stayed in your room, or wandered the halls, towering over the first and second years who weren’t allowed to go on weekend Hogsmeade trips yet. But there you were, forming one kink in a string of knots engaging in stimulating conversation about the current condition of the world, and even boring conversation about the homework for Defense Against the Dark Arts which, to you, seemed so thrilling even if only for the fact that it was verbal discourse in some form. You’d forgotten what it was to converse with others.

“Is there anywhere you need to go once we get there?” said Theo once you were nearing the end of the path and closing in on the town.

“I would have been awake before Daphne and Pansy got to my room if I planned to go anywhere today,” you joked and he smiled, “If you don’t mind, I might just go wherever you go.”

All he offered in response was a hum, and it left you thinking that you’d somehow made the air around you awkward. You’d later come to learn that he was just like that, never much of a talker if he thought the situation didn’t call for it.

Almost instantly after you passed sign that read ‘Welcome to Hogsmeade,’ the group dispersed, and Theo and yourself were left to do as you pleased.

Your companion, it seemed, didn’t have much he wanted to do either, so he led you to the Three Broomsticks. Kindly, he offered to pay for a butterbeer or two, but you didn’t think you were close enough for that, so you humbly told him it was alright. You sat in relative silence until our drinks arrived when Theo struck up some conversation.

“What have you been doing all these years by yourself, L/n?” He asked.

“I don’t know… Stuff…”

Theo laughed, and you laughed along with him. Your mind was frazzled by the alcohol, which kept refilling itself as you chatted on, and every so often you found thoughts that didn’t belong to you creeping into your mind, but you couldn’t place who they belonged to. It was just the odd word — sad, or pretty, or damned, or Y/n.

“Nott, are you and Malfoy good friends?” You asked.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?”

“You seem to argue quite a bit.”

“He’s just like that,” said Theo, “Likes to start shit for no reason, that one.”

You giggled, and he grinned happily. Another person’s thoughts seeped into yours once again, that time a full sentence: ‘I love her laugh.’

The bell that hung over the entrance to the Three Broomsticks jingled, and though you couldn’t see it behind you, you watched as Theo’s expression morphed into one of guilt. You turned over your shoulder, and made out the figures of the four people who had come with you. Each of them were wearing a disappointed look on their faces.

“What in the name of Merlin are you two doing?” asked Pansy, her tone equal parts concerned and amused.

“Nothing,” said Theo.

“Yeah, if ‘nothing’ is code for drinking all day,” said Blaise, “Snape’s gonna have your asses for this.”

The others guided yourself and Theo back to the castle. Your hand was attached to Pansy’s forearm, Theo’s arm was slung over Draco’s shoulder. By the time you reached the Slytherin common room, You were sober enough to move on your own, and thus, started your way up to your dorm.

“Where are you going?” Theo asked curiously. He was far away enough that you couldn’t smell his breath which stunk like the vomit he’d expelled from his body halfway through the walk back.

“My room,” you said.

“No, no, no.” He shook his head and then closed his eyes from the dizziness. “It’s sleepover night. You have to come to our dorm, I made room for you on my bed.”

“I used to sleep there because he’s got the best mattress out of the three of them, but we figured you might prefer to sleep beside him than Blaise,” Daphne explained.

“Oh,” you breathed, “Do I need to contribute anything?”

You hadn’t had a sleepover before. You didn’t know the proper protocol. You assumed one would need to bring at least their pyjamas and a pillow, maybe some sweets of some kind to share. But Theo shook his head, and you were in the boys’ room before you knew what was happening.

The boys’ dorm room was the opposite of yours. So exquisitely full, and intricately messy. The three beds were all the same size as yours with dark green bed hangings, and each about a metre apart.

Closest to the door and to their small shared bathroom was Theo’s bed. On the right, beside the door to the bathroom, he had a tower of books that acted as a wall. His sheets were black, but his pillows and blanket cover were a dark oceanic blue-green. There wasn’t much room, but you spied a large mess under his bed which you assumed was what he’d removed from the bed to make space. On his bedside table sat a small lamp that provided the only light in the room before Daphne declared it was far too ‘dark and gloomy’ and turned on the central light.

On the floor, directly under the light, there was a large medieval-style rug that bore our house crest, and the others sat on it lazily, ushering you over.

“I need a smoke,” said Draco, and he walked over to the window where the ashtray was.

“Me too,” said Theo as he also moved to the window, “You want one, L/n?”

“I’ve never smoked before.”

“Then I shouldn’t get you in the habit,” he smiled, “It is such a terrible habit to have. Costs more than it’s worth.”

He pulled a box of cigarettes from his pocket and offered one to Draco, and they both lit them with their wands.

“Does it taste nice?” You asked.

“Not particularly,” said Theo.

“Why do you do it then?”

“You’re so curious, L/n,” Draco teased.

Theo playfully slapped him on the chest, “Leave her alone,” he said, and then turned to you, “I’m an addict.”

“That’s got to be bad for your lungs, Nott,” you frowned, suddenly concerned.

“Don’t you worry about him,” said Pansy, a knowing smirk on her lips that told you she was well aware you’d continue worrying.

The night went on much shorter than you wished for it to. You’d hoped, perhaps too eagerly, that none of you would ever sleep. Far too much did you enjoy being awake with those people who you’d met too late in yout life. You were truly happy to have met them because for all the simple joys you’d managed to discover in your time alone, none were half as happy as those grand joys you found with them

You all took turns getting changed in the small bathroom (Theo lent you a shirt to wear), then you all slid into our respective beds. You were nervous about sleeping beside Theo because, in truth, you didn’t really know him. But he placed a pillow between you, and only faced you for a moment — a moment in which there was a look in his eyes that you couldn’t decipher, a moment in which you attempted to read his mind all too late — and then he kissed his fingers, and he touched them to your head, and he turned the other way.

“Did you sleep well?” Theo said once he noticed you were awake the next morning.

“I’ve never slept beside someone before,” you explained nervously, “I think it was a decent experience. I hope I didn’t move around too much.”

“Not at all, L/n,” he said.

A hum escaped your mouth, and you were acutely aware that Theo was watching you as you stared up at the roof of his room. Painted on it, Sistine Chapel-style, was a beautiful lush green forest.

“L/n. It’s so formal to call you by your surname.” Theo let out a disapproving tut.

“I call you by yours?” You said as you looked at him from the corner of your eye.

“You’re the only one who does.”

“It’s your name!” You raised your voice slightly before lowering it again so as to not wake any of the others up. “What else am I supposed to call you?”

“Theo,” he said, “That’s what everyone calls me.”

“And what false-name shall I bear, then?”

He chuckled quietly as he finally sat up. He raised his long arms in a stretch that exposed the bottom of his stomach and his V-line, and you glanced away until he returned his arms down to a cross in front of his chest. You took notice of his hair, which was awfully messy in the morning, and you thought he should get his hands on a bonnet to take care of it, but then you thought he probably shouldn’t. A silk pillow would’ve done him wonders, though.

“A nickname for Y/n,” said Theo, “How about Y/n/n?”

“I suppose that will do,” you said as nonchalantly as possible, but inside you were screaming with excitement. A nickname! You’d never had a nickname before.

“Oh, you suppose, do you?” he teased.

Your amused smile betrayed your insincere attempt at a pout, “Don’t make fun of me.”

“Don’t let anyone else call you Y/n/n, alright?” said Theo, and you crossed your brows in question, “I want it to be just an us-thing. They can call you your full name at most.”

He was extraordinarily bossy. But it was sweet. Heartwarming, even.

“Wait, but if everyone calls you Theo, I want something just for us, too!” You blushed at how overly familiar that sounded, but Theo’s rosy cheeks filled you with conviction. “How about Teddy?”

Giddily, he smiled at you, “Say it to me in a sentence.”

You frowned, but obeyed, “I like being your friend, Teddy. — How was that?” He nodded happily, “You say one for mine, now.”

He thought for a moment, trying to decide on a sentence to say.

“Read my mind, Y/n/n.”

Always, he had to boss you around. But, again, you really didn’t care. It was just nice to have someone to boss you around. To think that only at the beginning of that week, you had no friends at all… Now you had so many, and all thanks to destiny. All thanks to your Teddy.

A breath, and then you forced your way into his mind. There was a picture there waiting for you, a memory from Monday. A memory of you, except, you seemed to glow. You’d seen yourself in a million mirrors and memories over the course of your life, but never had you looked so beautiful. And then, there were words.

“I’d like to go on a date with you, Y/n/n.”

Your eyes snapped open as you left his thoughts to belong to him alone.

“What?” You asked, your ears red.

“I think you’re absolutely brilliant, Y/n/n. Please, go on a date with me?” Theo smiled.

He inched closer until your noses touched and you could barely tell each others’ features apart. Each of you were just blurs of colour.

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Teddy.”

[romanceyourdemons]

fantasy setting with powerful magic that avoids addressing the problem of evil question (eg at the end of the quest a wizard effortlessly conjures a massive feast in celebration. why didn’t they conjure a feast for any of the starving peasants they passed? oh that’s not important look the mysterious swordsman is dancing on the table): eh. medium brain. it obviously leaves a significant chunk of worldbuilding unrealized, but it also avoids one of the world’s biggest cans of worms, which they might not need skewing the tone of the story

fantasy setting that addresses the problem of evil question with ontological caps on omnipotence (eg due to the vague nature of magic wizards can only conjure feasts once a month or so and thus it’s unreasonable to expect them to feed all the orphans): SMALL brain. BOO. regina george voice so you agree? you think it’s fucked up that your wizards are adventuring and gaining glory while ignoring the vital drudge work of improving the world?

fantasy setting that addresses the problem of evil question with SOCIOLOGICAL caps on omnipotence (eg people who can afford to become trained wizards are generally bourgeoisie-aristocracy, the heads of the world of mystic arts even more so, and thus any “reckless behavior” that makes the bourgeoisie’s stocks and the aristocracy’s land less valuable, such as giving out food on a wide scale, will get the perpetrator disbarred, ostracized, and even unofficially hunted down): the BIGGEST brain. i am THERE i am INVESTED i have BOUGHT IN. sell me your story funny writer friend

[psychronia]

Surely this applies to everything about the story in general?

"No, my setting doesn't have this."

"These characters wouldn't do that."

"The order of events here don't work."

My buddy, my pal. You are the writer. Your thoughts shape this reality like an eldritch dreamer. Don't tell me what you can't do.

If you can't "yes, and" yourself way to your objective, you either put too much detail in front or aren't yesing or anding enough.

the question, you see, is not ‘is it too ooc for this character to cry’ but rather ‘what circumstances would push this character to cry’

this is the whump wisdom, go forth and make that character cry

[orphiclovers]

I think the most notable bit of character insight on Yoo Joonghyuk that Yoo Mia SS provides is how much the apocalypse did not change him at all.

It's one of those Big Themes orv has, and simply brilliant writing. Y'know how they kept beating us over the head with the concept of 'the people who find it easiest to adapt in a ruined world are those who could not adapt to real life?'. That applies to YJH too, and even more than other characters. But it's hard to notice on a casual main story read because genre conventions and his character archetype tell us not to look deeper, that he is just a basic brooding power fantasy manhwa protagonist, even when he's really not.

So the audience writes off his quirks because it's expected of his brooding hero archetype and the other apocalypse survivors write off his quirks because everyone who has gotten this far is a little nuts and also they have bigger problems.

But when Yoo Joonghyuk acts exactly like he does during the apocalypse in a pre-scenario world where there's no convienient explanation it's really clear that he is different and he just comes off as...off.

His silence during conversations is no longer mysterious and cool but just weird and a failure to read social cues. His 'glare' is frightening and people don't like when he makes eye contact with them. His manner of speech is off-putting. His blank emotionless face is not stoic repressed hero-esque but ""rude"" etc etc. Every single mainstream society conforming person can tell there's something off about him so they avoid him. And YJH doesn't know how to communicate so he ends up totally friendless (save for a literal mafia boss and a crazy time-traveling teenage girl - and only them, because they don't fit well into society either.)

Umm where was I. So, but I don't know how much effect all of that has on World of Zero. Firstly, because between Yoo Mia side story and World of Zero there are 3-4 years of '?????' where afaik we have no idea what Yoo Joonghyuk was doing. He stopped being a gamer at some point but also got rich at the same time (doing what?) and bought the house he daydreamed about and also became a total shut-in who 'doesn't go outside often'. I have fanfic-y theories but nothing canon.

Onto the second part of the ask.

With World of Zero era joongdok I feel like there's a lot of writers out there who have made their own versions that are better than anything I could come up with so I hope you wont be disapointed. That being said I do have some thoughts.

Speaking of fanfic, here is mine under read more lol.

I think it's super that Kim Dokja gains the power of an omnipotent god and the very first thing he does is devote his time to Yoo Joonghyuk's happiness and safety. The whole reason he became OD was because of his massive guilt complex about YJH, so it makes sense that he would try to atone.

Zero starts off mistrusting him but gradually KDJ proves himself as having Zero's best interests at heart 100% of the time. DKOS is YJH's guardian angel. And then KDJ stays watching over him even after the scenarios were over, seeing him go through boring life milestones, happy as long as YJH is happy, for seemingly no reason.

So it's no wonder Yoo Jooghyuk fell in love.

He might not know Salvation's real name or appearance or anything about him but he wants to get to know him, this person who has saved him so many times while asking nothing in return. It doesn't matter that he's a constellation because he is good, Yoo Joonghyuk knows. He confesses all of this to Salvation, looking up at the sky with eyes sparkling with life and passion.

Salvation lets him down gently, for what it's worth, but rejection is still rejection and it hurts.

In the following weeks, as he goes through the motions and pretends nothing happened, he continues to feel the gaze of Salvation on his back, but the constellation stays mercifully silent. Yoo Joonghyuk does not want to know if it's pity he's looking at him with. Even heartbreak heals, of course. Months pass, then years. Lee Seolhwa was a dependable companion to him during the scenarios and stays a steadying presence in the world after. They're compatable. She is someone with who he could see himself growing old.

Salvation told him to 'be free, to fall in love with someone who could be with him, to not waste his time chasing after a dream, to live his life to the fullest'

He knows about his attribute of course, just like he knows everything about Yoo Joonghyuk.

Yoo Joonghyuk sees no point in lying. He tells Lee Seolhwa everything. How due to his attribute he will grown old and die while the rest of them stay youthful as ever, how he doesn't remember his childhood or know his parents. His hopes and dreams, how he yearns to learn his origins. About the first scenario, about the constellation who would have been his sponsor, whom he loves.

Then he asks to marry her. She says yes.

Salvation is the first person Yoo Joonghyuk tells. He's happy for him, of course, says he always knew there was a spark between them.

They live a long 50 years together.

When Yoo Joonghyuk's hair started turning more salt than pepper, he told Lee Seolhwa that he wouldn't hold her. She laughed, stroked his head and said that she might not look it but she is two years older than him, that she vowed to be by his side till death did them apart and she will not break that promise.

When his time comes and he knows he has to leave, he tries to explain himself to Lee Seolhwa at least, if not the rest of his old companions. But he needn't have bothered. Before he could start, she took his hands in hers and smiled wistfully. She told him she always knew this day would come. That his heart has always belonged to someone else. She's thankful for the time he has given her anyway and that she could not have asked for a better husband. She sheads a few tears and Yoo Joonghyuk does too, but he leaves their house with a sense of purpose and a lightness in his heart he has not felt once since the day he beat the final scenario.

And then he accepts the sponsorship contract with Salvation.

... .. Sooo, that's how I think round zero went.

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #209

Brain Curds are lightly edited daily writing - usually flash fiction and sometimes terrible on purpose.

Read God for a Day Act One first.

At first, I tried to go back to sleep. But there is no sleep for a god, no rest for the divine. It was hopeless to lay in bed and close my eyes, for I was a formless spirit wafting about the room and my body stood where I’d left it, holding the pen that signed my humanity away.

I would surely go mad trapped in here. And sure, I could go anywhere, but time would not pass. I could not do so much as turn the page of a book. There was nothing anywhere for me until I moved on to the next moment.

I took a deep breath into the lungs I didn’t have and prepared myself. Just one second forward. That’s all. And I could take another rest. Three. Two. One.

I felt the whole world in my head, laughing and crying and screaming and begging for mercy. This time it was no longer painful. It was orgasmic. Freed from the shackles of my mortal body, every sensation was crisp and clear. As the second drew to a close, I let out the breath and once again took refuge in a frozen snapshot of reality. I smiled and licked my phantom lips. I knew then that I had no more need for rest.

I resumed time at full speed. After only a moment, I was accustomed to the noise enough to notice my body moving about on its own. It stopped and stared at me, somehow able to see what there was of me that was not truly there.

“Curious that you choose to spend this time where you would be anyway,” my body said with the voice of the universe. “You are welcome to stay if you so choose.”

He was right. It was absurd to stay in my bedroom all day as a god. It was a sin not to take advantage of my position of power.

I decided to pull a prank on Dietz. This was all his fault, after all. I giggled to myself as I spoiled the milk in his refrigerator and rearranged the atoms of his word magnets to form a sentence: “Look upon me, your one true God Lillian, and weep. Pray for my forgiveness and I may tender it to you, for you have sinned against me and yet I remain merciful with grace.”

He groggily slipped out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen to start his coffee maker. I made the water hotter to scorch the grounds. Dietz squinted at the refrigerator door, visibly confused by my message, and I could hear his thoughts.

The door is locked. She must have climbed in through the window.

He really did have no idea that the sweepstakes were real. It was curious seeing him go about his morning routine, not knowing he was being observed. It was quite like watching an ape in captivity. Watching him hum, scratch himself, stand idly by the toaster waiting for his waffle - it all made him more captivating, more human, human in a way I’d never been able to see in others before. A way I couldn’t see anymore in myself.

How could I possibly be expected to cram myself down back into my human body when this day was over? After all I’ve seen, after everything I know now… no, I couldn’t go back. I’d stay here, right here, watching Dietz live his mundane days. All the while fucking with him. Delicious.

He poured his milk and his coffee, stirred it, and was too drowsy to notice the curds on the spoon. He took a sip and his eyes went wide. He spit it into the sink and vomited. I laughed at his misfortune, but grew concerned when he struggled to breathe. The inside of his throat swelled and he fell to the floor.

I should have known. I should know everything but didn’t think to know that he was allergic to the very spores I’d placed in his milk. I didn’t think to know that he’d fall to the floor, face turning blue, and there was not enough time to save him. He’d be braindead by the time an ambulance might arrive. With all the power of the universe at my disposal, there was still nothing I could do.

So I became angry.

Please comment, reblog, like, and follow if you enjoyed- I'd love to know what you think! See you again tomorrow.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

your post from yesterday about preferring Riddlers to be working class just reminded me of something that bothered me abt the one bad day issue (aside from like. everything else) and it's that OBD Riddler being from a well off fancy private school background just ..doesn't work as well? imo his 'edwardian gentleman but neon green' bit simply works better when he hasn't been raised in the dead poets society and instead leans more, well, carnival conman doing it for the aesthetic

OKAY thank you that reminded me that I need to get back to this

the Riddler is like SUCH an anomaly and an embarrassment of a character (and I say that with AFFECTION) because there's, like, no really good reason why he should have lasted long enough to become such a core Batman villain, certainly not part of a big four with Catwoman, Penguin, and the Joker. the fact that he's survived and stayed relevant so long is a HUGE fluke and now he's one of those elements that's iconic enough that people would complain if it was gone but problematic enough that writers feel like they HAVE to justify his existence.

"problematic" here doesn't mean, like, politically distasteful, just that he's. I mean. you know. he's a guy in a green leotard doing bad riddles. unlike most of Batman's most iconic villains he doesn't have any particularly well known backstory, he doesn't have any deep personal connection to the Bat, he doesn't even have any unique powers or abilities or horrific inhuman appearance he's just. he's just some fucking guy who's kind of refused to fade into obscurity an accidentally became an staple of the lore along the way.

so there's this like metatextual need to justify him as a plausible threat by styling him as a highly educated super genius. One Bad Day was an especially egregious example because King made him so damn near omnipotent that it genuinely stopped making sense, not to mention trying to make him seem scarier by trying to say the plot of the Killing Joke was actually the Riddler's idea that he just? passed off to the Joker?

like stop. doing this. stop trying to make him scary stop trying to make him serious he's just a guy. he's just a silly goofy little guy who's Like That because he sucks. I'm just. I'm tired. let him be fun.

[b-theshittyhuman]

Turn one fictional character to life

Choose Genie

Tell him you'll set him free on your third wish

First wish is omnipotence

If he says no, wish for the ability to grant yourself superpowers

You now have the power to do whatever you want, including traveling to fictional worlds or bring fictional characters to life

Second wish is Chocolate Cake

Final wish is to free him