#a character reminding themselves 'i don't want to take care of myself but Friend feels the same way and still lets me worry about them'

[incomingalbatross]

Listen. I know I’ve said this before but

Broke: Sick/injured character being bullied into accepting care from their friends against their own inclinations

Woke: Sick/injured character accepting care and/or taking care of themselves because they know that otherwise they don’t have the right to expect the same accountability from their friends when they’re sick/injured (and this goes both ways)

#*cones meme* it's about the danger of infantilization #you can and should make a five-year-old stay home/take medicine/go to the doctor even over their vocal protests #it gets dicier when the patient is a grown man #on the other hand: #a character reminding themselves 'i don't want to take care of myself but Friend feels the same way and still lets me worry about them' #'so i should give them the same respect when they're worried about me and at least CONSIDER whether they're right' #THAT i like #(this isn't about anything in particular it's just what happens when i go on a fic-reading binge in fandoms about Adult Found Families) #(it's a peril of the genre. but i haven't run across anything egregious lately)

[autistichalsin]

I'm really fucking tired.

All I wanted was a space to obsess over a fictional man, who brought me a ton of healing, in peace.

This group has made it their mission to chase not only me away, but anyone associated with me. They called me a rape fetishizer for writing CNC fic. They called me a pedophile for making an omega Halsin headcanon. They called me a self-hating lesbian/lesbophobic for saying it's TERFy to demonize queer male sexuality. They mocked my abuse by my mom, and when called on it, laughed that I deserved it for saying how Mint's actions remind me of her sometimes. They accused me of retraumatizing myself because of the fic I wrote, when THEY were the ones who retraumatized me by causing me to have a flashback to my mom abusing me. They accused me of absolutely vile things, and today they questioned if I even was "really" abused because of the fic I wrote. They repeatedly mocked my special interests and then got offended and played victim when I said this was ableist. They've sent suicide bait to me and my friends.

They've harassed others: they harassed a bi SH fan for asking them to stop saying it was icky to ship her with men until she left the fandom, they harassed someone who made a mod to turn Scratch into Astarion so they could see the animations (even calling this person as bad as Cazador), they harassed someone for making a headcanon about Astarion dancing with Tav, they harassed a lesbian who herself headcanons Karlach as a lesbian and doesn't like Karlach/Dammon but explained why others do, they harassed my friend Mish for saying she was okay with me writing CNC, they sent suicide bait to another friend of mine and said she deserved to get raped so she would sympathize with Mint, causing her to have a mental breakdown and have to go to the hospital for 24 hours, and every time someone pushes back against them, this group weaponizes their identity by saying that person is bigoted against their identity- while ignoring (at best) the marginalized identities that person has, or at worst, furthering oppression against them (I.E. their repeated ableist comments, including one of them snarling at another user about "enjoying your grippy sock vacation")

And despite all these vile things this group of people have done, people are still believing them and sending more harassment to myself and my friends in their defense.

I'm fucking tired.

I'm tired of defending myself. I'm tired of losing people I considered friends to their lies. I'm tired of having my inbox invaded by these vile people.

They are wearing at my mental health and this already made me relapse on one of my addictive behaviors and I am fighting really hard not to do the other one. I'm tired. I loved this fandom and I loved contributing my ideas. I get so many messages from people saying I made them feel seen or made them connect to Halsin's character, and getting a message from a survivor that my posts gave them the words they were lacking for what happened to them and they were able to work through it in counseling was honestly one of the best things to ever happen to me. I really don't want to lose that. Ever. But I can't keep doing this.

I'm not bigoted to my own identity. I don't hurt people. I don't fetishize rape. I'm tired of being a broken record and not being believed because that group is so good at fragilizing themselves. I can't do it anymore.

I just wanted to share my thoughts about a fictional bear man because it made me happy and so many parts of him gave me courage. I wanted to give up cynicism like he did. I wanted to find his strength to take care of people.

But I am honestly very close to regretting ever joining this fandom. I have gained so much from it, it helped my mental health immensely, but this shit has put me in an even WORSE place mentally than i was before I joined.

I don't know what to do. I'm just tired of the way, no matter how much I epitomize "living your best life" I get treatment from these people that I honestly wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.

I have a lot of painful feelings right now and I don't know what to do anymore. It just hurts and I think everyone would be better off if I'd never made this blog to begin with.

[dragonfire2lm]

Baldur's Gate 3 headcanon/AU thingy: Acespec Tav

So, I'm still figuring out what my Tav OC is going to look like, what class she is (all I know is that she's going to be a charisma character), but I had the beginnings of an idea and wanted to share it. So, let me know what you think.

It was another quiet night in camp and Tav was doing her rounds, checking in on her friends, making sure they were comfortable, listening to their troubles.

But she had noticed the odd looks Lae'zel had been giving her, and concerned that perhaps she had upset the gith in some way, she asked about it.

To hear Lae'zel's interest in her was certainly flattering, but unwanted, and Tav did the best she could to explain that she wasn't attracted to women, nor interested in sex.

It was Lae'zel's response that had Tav bristling like a cat. Whether it was the harshness in which the words were spoken, or the words themselves, Tav recoiled.

She was reminded that she was different, lacking in such a base, universal experience that Lae'zel's reply to being rejected, more than likely snapped out in defense of her own emotions, hurt. And it pained her more than she thought.

"I am not interested in anyone!" Tav snapped back. "I cannot grasp, cannot fathom the very idea of looking at others and wishing to bed them, and I suppose I should thank you, my friend, for reminding that I am lacking in such wants."

It was perhaps too harsh, she knew, but as the others in the camp heard the commotion and headed over, all Tav could feel was a sense of inadequacy, of guilt.

She was different, and that pained her more than anything when her friends could express such wants and desires so freely, When Lae'zel looked confused by the notion that Tav just didn't feel attracted to anyone. And similar looks of confusion flitted across the faces of the others.

There would be questions, maybe even an attempt to brush her off, that had certainly happened with others in the past before she had been abducted. Tav did not want to face such scrutiny, such disbelief from those she cared for.

So, she excused herself and left for the far edges of camp.

She didn't notice that Astarion was not looking at her in confusion, but rather like a puzzle piece had fallen into place. She scurried off into the bushes.

Scratch had followed, the dog had sensed her distress and cuddled up to her as she sat on a rock. She waited for not only her own hurt to ease, but for enough time to pass so that she could sneak back to her bedroll once everyone else was asleep.

Imagine her surprise when Astarion found her in her hiding spot sometime later. She watched him, wary, and a little bit afraid. Not because he was a vampire, but because her biggest secret had been outed to the whole camp, her difference, her defect.

It was the first words out of his mouth that stopped that fear in its tracks.

"I've seen that reaction before," he said. "I don't quite get it myself mind you, but I have seen it before."

"Have you now?" She replied as she waited for the other shoe to drop.

The vampire picked his way through the dense brush and sat beside her on the rock. He didn't look put out that she clearly didn't believe him. In fact the vampire was practically respectful about it.

"I've met people in the past, who don't find anyone attractive, and it's not because they dislike my most charming self," He explained with a gesture to himself. "It's just how they are, and some wanted to have sex, others just weren't interested at all. Personally I don't see why the idea seems to be so hard to believe."

"Well," Tav began and found herself struggling with words for once. A rare thing indeed for the group's wordsmith. She sighed. "I suppose the night can't get any worse...People seem to mistake my kindness, my sincerity for flirting a lot of the time, and i have yet to find someone who would be interested in romance without sex. Too often others take offense when I turn them down..."

"And Lae'zel's rather sharp retort struck a nerve?" Astarion guessed and she nodded. "You know she's not the only one who's interested in you right? She's just the most blunt about it."

"And yet more friendships turned to dust." Tav lamented. "Why did i ever think otherwise?"

And here Astarion looked surprised. "Whatever do you mean by that? Do you really think that...the others would just leave you on the roadside because you don't reciprocate their feelings?"

"Would not be the first time, I assure you," She replied. She did notice his hesitation when he mentioned the rest of the group. "I wouldn't blame you, or them, if that was the case."

"Look," Astarion began, he looked frustrated, whether with her, Lae'zel, or something else entirely she couldn't tell. "I can't speak for the others, but I know damn well I am not going to simply cut ties with you because of this."

"We need to work together to get to the bottom of the tadpoles in our heads, and the cult of The Absolute, I know." Tav replied.

"Well, yes," Astarion agreed. "But you are missing quite the important point in that I genuinely enjoy your company, dare I say I consider a friend in the short time we've been travelling together."

"Oh...I didn't want to assume, you'd been through a lot as is, and I wanted to make sure you had space." Tav replied. "while I hope I can call everyone here a friend, I didn't want to push the idea on anyone. Can't please everyone after all."

"You're not getting rid of me any time soon," Astarion smirked. A thought occurred to him and he looked at her curiously. "Though after tonight, I do wonder, are you interested in romance at all? People like you tend to separate sex and romance and I for one woudl like to know where you stand on the topic."

He held his hands up placatingly and added. "If you want to share such thoughts that is, I find such talks interesting, but I won't pry."

"I take it you find them interesting because of how it differs from your experiences?" Tav asked.

"And I find that it makes a lot of sense when you think about it," Astarion replied. "People can certainly have sex without the need for romantic attachments, so romance without sex is more than possible. And I do so love the look of bafflement on people's faces when I point that out."

He grinned. "People get so shocked, scandalized even, about the mere concept of someone courting another without sex being on the table. It's hilarious."

Tav cracked a smile at that. Maybe she could trust him with this. Maybe, just once, she could trust she wouldn't be seen as some immature, naive waif in need of being fixed or shown a good time.

"I like romance," she explained as she ran a hand through Scratch's fur, the dog keeping an eye and ear out while the two of them talked. "I think its a beautiful concept, a wonderful idea that shouldn't need sex to be a part of it, that shouldn't result in friendships being seen as lesser, that is just one kind of love, not the ultimate expression of it."

"And..." Tav continued. "Ultimately not for me it seems. As much as I would want it for myself, I've never met anyone willing to give what I want a chance...and with this tadpole I doubt I'll have the chance to do so."

Astarion listened patiently, she was surprised he was even hearing her out. Normally she would be the one lending an ear to him, to anyone at camp who needed someone to confide in, or simply someone to talk to who wouldn't judge.

She was even more surprised when he asked. "And what do you want?"

"You'll think me childish," she replied.

"Darling, I've seen you bleat at a redcap and found it funny, I don't care if you're childish," Astarion pointed out. "In fact, I encourage it, life is a bit dull if you never have fun."

"Well alright," Tav said. "I don't fall i love with someone's appearance, I don't look at people and want to be their partner. But I fall in love with who someone is as a person, how much I trust him, how well we get along. It's just another layer of feelings on top of a friendship already as strong as adamantine...That hasn't really happened in a long time."

"So no interest in women, looks like Lae'zel was barking up the wrong tree," Astarion commented. "And falling for someone's, shall we say inner beauty, instead of the initial draw to their outward appearance is uncommon, but not unheard of."

"But not the accepted standard." Tav said plainly.

"As someone who experiences the accepted standard, trust me, it's a lot more of a hassle than people think it is," Astarion replied. "Anyway, do continue."

"You're actually interested in my ramblings on romance?" Tav asked.

"I did say I find it interesting," Astarion said. "And I sort of told Lae'zel to go fuck a gnoll earlier and I'm hiding until she calms down."

"Oh gods, you didn't!"

"I'd never seen you so upset!" he admitted. "Mind flayers, hags, goblins...vampire spawn...I'm certain you could stare The Dead Three in the face and not so much as flinch...but one of our own expressing interest in you and then lashing out when you reject them caused you to recoil like that...Well...Like I said, I'd seen that reaction before."

"And you told her to fuck a gnoll..." Tav couldn't help but let out a small snort of laughter. "How are you not dead?"

"I said something about showing you the same courtesy you've shown all of us and here I am." He replied with a flourish.

"Well, I suppose I should indulge your curiosity as thanks for having my back," Tav awkwardly said. "I've never really had anyone be in my corner about this...So, right, romance...what do you want to know?"

"From the sounds of it you'd be interested in a romantic relationship, what do you want out of one if you were to say, get to know someone andthey confessed their love to you?" Astarion asked. "Hypothetically speaking of course."

Was he up to something? She couldn't tell.

"This stays between us right?" Tav asked hesitantly.

And here Astarion scoffed. "If you think I'm trying to get intel to pass on to the others, the answer is no, I'm not. This is our little secret."

"Good, I've already made enough of a fool of myself today," Tav replied. "i suppose if I did wind up in a romantic relationship, We'd talk things out, set boundaries, make sure neither of us feel forced to do anything they don't want, have everyone on the same page...then I'd probably by the person flowers."

"Flowers?"

"I know, normally the men buy the women flowers, but it's still a sweet gesture that I think should be reciprocated," Tav replied. "along with going to dinner, or lunch, or just going and doing an activity as a couple, having fun in much the same way one would with friends, but with the knowledge and intent that is romantic in context."

"And I suppose living together and having children in somewhere in that domestic little fantasy of yours too?" Astarion quipped.

"If only I were so lucky, but yes. I'd adopt," Tav admitted. "Even before the tadpole I was never healthy enough to risk carrying a child, and never really thought about children of my own, money has always been a bit too tight for that, but if I had the money, the time, the freedom to do that...I'd like to take in an older kid, ones who tend to be ignored in favour of the little ones, you know?"

"You've never really spoken about your life prior to being abducted," Astarion noted. "But...that makes a lot of sense from what you have shared about yourself....and you care an awful lot about making sure we have enough money."

"I wasn't poor, if that's what you mean," Tav said. "But not upper class either, always had to plan ahead with how much money to spend, never had the freedom to really go on a spending spree or indulge myself."

"Hm, I'll have to see about changing that..." Astarion said. "Maybe slip a few coins off some unsuspecting folks to lighten the burden?"

"And I'll talk our way out of trouble if you get caught," Tav replied.

"If I get caught."

"You needn't go through the trouble on my account." Tav insisted. "We make do, don't we?"

"And I happen to think you should have the chance to splurge a bit, buy yourself something nice," Astarion replied. "When we reach a larger city, I'll take you shopping."

"Really?"

"Yes, you, me, a small mountain of coin, and everything the world has to offer, what do you say?" He said and nudged her palyfully.

"Sounds like fun, if we can get the gold to afford it."

"You just leave that to me," He replied. "Do you think we can wander back to camp without a certain Gith trying to cut our heads off?"

"I'll talk her down, you might have to apologize..."

"Darling, you and I both know I won't mean it."

"Yes but, thank you for sticking up for me." Tav said. "Hopefully i can smooth things over with everyone once I figure out who else is interested in me..."

"Well, I could tell you," Astarion pointed out. "But I think I'll watch you figure it out for yourself."

"It's everyone, isn't it?"

"There's no harm in asking them, you know." He said. "After that little row with Lae'zel I doubt you'll have to deal with anyone reacting as harshly as she did."

No harm in asking?

And so, Tav asked The Pale Elf what he thought of her.

#baldur's gate 3 #Acespec Tav #demiromantic Tav #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav

[fumikosushi]

I don't know if I'm going to return to the S*T rpc. I desperately want to play those characters - the canons and my OCs - but being around so many of those people who just talk shit and act like everyone is supposed to be a mind reader is so exhausting. It's a constant popularity contest and it makes me terrified to talk to ANYONE because it feels like high school all over again.

No one wants to communicate but wants to preach about people needing to communicate. People will literally pretend to be your friend just to 'avoid drama' they think will start if they approach you or choose to remove you and people need to understand that not everyone is a hateful stalker that's going to ruin your life for choosing peace or communication.

If you do not like me I would rather you ghost me than hype me up to write shit you're not even interested in. You are not only wasting your time, but you are wasting mine and literally manipulating people to be attached to you by feigning interest and care for them and that is not okay. At that point, that is abuse. That is emotionally manipulative abuse and it's not okay. Just because the other person isn't 'aware' until you drop the bomb on them doesn't mean it's not.

I'm tired of being nice, accepting, and welcoming of people with open arms just to constantly be shit talked about. Normally I'm the first person to think 'nice people don't call themselves nice' but after tearing myself down for so long because of people's shitty behavior toward me, I'm seeing all the work I would put in just to be met with literally nothing. And this isn't me expecting anyone to revolve their lives around me. I'm not expecting instant replies, I don't expect people to send me memes or random starters or talk ooc every day - it could be once a week or two, even. I just wanted the bare minimum and then once I stopped doing that for people? Sending them things, tagging them in things that remind me of them and our muses, and all these other things - people got mad at me even though they would send me fucking nothing.

I'm done giving people everything to not even be met half way and then having people get MAD AT ME once I pull back. I'm tired of people giving me 0 effort because of how patient with them I am because I do know people are busy and that things are hard and that sometimes you just want to do nothing, but God, I'm so tired of of my patience being taken advantage of. Even irl my patience and understanding with others is always met with me being treated like fucking shit. I'm tired of being people's back burner friend for when they want to use me as their therapist or when they're desperate due to boredom. IT FUCKING HURTS.

I'm tired of being nice. I'm tired of being understanding. I'm tired of being patient. I'm tired of caring so much about everyone else's feelings that I neglect my own and I'm not doing it anymore. I'm done. I am HUMAN and I have FEELINGS and NEEDS and WANTS and I deserve to be treated as such instead of feeling so dehumanized to the point I literally go silent because I feel like that's what people want from me. I feel like people want me to disappear, to fade away into nothing. I know there are a few people who like me that I trust, but the mass majority make me feel that way. It's hard not to feel that way especially when people are nice to my face and then talk shit about me behind my back and literally go out of their way to demonize me to others to get others to not interact with me.

I've done NOTHING to deserve to be treated as poorly as I have been in that rpc and I'm not taking it anymore. If I ever remake my blog, it's going to be private and not accepting interactions outside of people I trust immensely because that rpc has proven that hardly anyone can be trusted.

And please don't take this as me acting like I'm perfect or I've never done wrong, but God, I cannot do anything about what I've supposedly done if no one wants to fucking tell me. Like I can literally do nothing to fix what I did to upset you if you literally refuse to tell me and then still seem to expect me to do something to fix it. I'm not a fucking mind reader.

[drafthorsemath]

When is it okay to joke about cults

I am going to try my best to make this quick. Of course there aren't firm lines, but I wanted to point a few things out.

Are you a former cult member making fun of your former cult leader? About how awful they are? Go for it. Have at it. Drag them. The leaders in cults are narcissists and the only ones pulling the strings. Also, a lot of former cult members get to a point where they like joking about the cult they were in (about the beliefs or the leader) as a form of catharsis. Other fine things include calling cult leaders out on their bullshit. Cults take themselves very seriously. Cult leaders take themselves so very seriously. Poking fun at the leaders to knock them down a peg is usually just fine (whether or not you were a former member.)

Do you call your friend group or fan club a cult? Don't. Do you joke about starting their own cult? Don't do that. Let me put it another way. Would you joke about being the victim of domestic violence? Would you joke about being assaulted and abused in an lol kind of way (that isn't just you deflecting because trauma)? Would you joke about abusing people? No? Then why are you joking about starting your own cult? Cults are systems of abuse. Real cult members go through immense abuse. Always psychological and emotional, sometimes physical, and often sexual. Don't joke about cults like that.

(While yes, some definitions of cults include "benign" cults, no one joking about their "cult" is going off that definition.)

I'll also add, if you see the way someone dresses or a piece of art about a character and have the desire to say they look like they're in a cult or about to join one, just don't do that. While there are books, documentaries, and podcasts about the realities of cults - many very accurate and including former members - there are still many fictionalized TV shows and movies that present cults in a certain light and often people like they "mystery." It is very different from their life and so they are captivated.

I know that it is still considered acceptable to make fun of cult members. I know that people throw the word "cult" around like it doesn't matter. This is simply a reminder that it does actually matter. I'm not mad when I see people making these mistakes, but it leaves me feeling incredibly cautious around them because it shows me they either don't understand or don't care. I used to try to ignore it and distance myself, but I think most people don't realize that what they're doing is harmful.

Oh look, this wasn't short at all.

#cults #cw cult mention #cw abuse

[purposelynana]

What Did I Watch: #32

This week, what? Been drowning in work and Eid. But I'm back.

Step By Step was a nightmare and it was fucking good. Nightmare is such an understatement. It was thorough portrayal on being a corporate slave. That's why I called it nightmare. And a blessing.

For the longest we'd been served by half-assed representation about office workers. Before Step By Step, there was A Boss and A Babe, and I swear to God I should know from the title alone, this would be a complete trash. And also Bed Friend, where definitely the focus wasn't on the office. Too bad. I know the sex scene was the talk of the town, but well lemme emphasize once more, if you want to watch porn, just watch porn, instead of pushing porn onto contemporary show. Or at least if you take out the porn, it still makes a decent story.

Yet Step By Step is different. It was scary because how similar it was to my office life. I had this unsettling feeling while watching it. I don't think it was bad per se, but definitely that was something I don't want to repeat. Yes, this is written by someone who has been in the office, worked in the office and maybe get abused in the office. And for the love of God, thank you for its depiction of office love story that it's believable. Love in the office does happen very slowly, delicate (dude it'll involve HR at some point it has to be delicate), and full of understanding.

Such a good watch.

Skam-fication of Korean BL.

The Eight Sense is why we need Evak-coded characters grace our screen. The moment Jihyun and Jaewon met is a constant reminder that to me Skam will always be the greatest queer media out there. Because it was true to themselves. And heck, I don't think anything will ever get close to it, until now. Wow.

There was no necessary side couple. Weird filler. Every scene has its purposes and actually push the narrative. The characters did develop. Great cinematography and directing. Phenomenal acting by rookies??? And I had the loudest sigh after finishing it. Thank God for your mercy.

I got shredded in pieces, then stitched bit by bit, and the wound healed in the most pleasant way. I lived by angsty stories and beautiful resolve. From time to time, I wonder when will we get a story that it's just beautifully heartbreaking and still giving a sense of hope at the end of its run. Maybe it will take so many years and a great deal of trial and error until finally we're going to come across something like this.

And finally on a whim, I decided to watch La Pluie. No idea why. Perhaps because the color palette on it seemed soft. Or the idea of having to listen to your soulmate on the rain sounded too whack but somehow I was convinced of the world building that had been going on in the back. Plus, this little pulp never wasted any moment and I appreciate that. There are plots going on in the times when BL just having only vibes without substantial context.

My only beef for now, is the sound. The background sound was too loud, sometimes buried the surrounding sound that supposed to come out. Such as when they talked on the side of the road, I barely couldn't hear any cars or as simple as other people talks. It lessen the believability of this world.

Yet, it's still a good recommendation. Up till now it doesn't make my blood boil for having some stupidity shit that no one couldn't explain. Fingers crossed it could land smoothly. Well somehow it makes me think why I couldn't accept Oxygen but I could embrace this. Big question indeed.

There will be rants coming shortly....

I promised myself to watch Our Skyy then naaah. I kept thinking about the way GMM does things. I've never seen an entertainment agency that bad of handling the misbehavior of their actors. The very obvious way that the only thing they care is just making more money from shitty fan services and merchandises. To make more money from parasocial relationship that they build over time. I don't care if in real life the actors actually close or not. We suppose to don't care in the first place. It's their privacy, in which should not be trading commodities. It's fucked up. Our Skyy is a trading commodity. Well, it has always been trading commodities. But at least don't make that obvious. Dolls, blanket, snacks, it's not fucking smooth at all. I'm bothered. It's not helping the narrative. The narrative is already over. It is a walking ads. That's for sure. You're fucked when the dolls is the one taking over the discussion rather than the story. But well, these days who cares right? People need money, not some substantial storytelling. Not every production house can act like HBO right?

#step by step #the eight sense #la pluie #our skyy rants #what did i watch

[ofstoriesandstardust]

you most definitely do not need to answer this if you're not comfortable (or just don't want to), but i saw you say you had grown somewhat resentful of the same mistakes universe and i was curious as to why. i am not personally a writer, but i have a fair amount of friends who are and i have seen similar things happen to them with stories they had put tons of time and effort into, for a variety of different reasons. i know a lot of authors struggle with not getting much interaction on fics, and i can imagine putting something out there that you are proud of and spent a lot of time on and then not hearing anything can feel super disappointing, and also a bit like just chucking your stuff into a void??? i know some other friends of mine have stopped writing because the fandom itself sucked and they were getting weird pointless hate for no reason.

I am definitely sad you've ended/taken a long break from the series, because it's clear you put a ton of time, effort, and care into the same mistakes series, and you developed a character that was deeply nuanced and unique, but also youre doing it all for free and for fun (ideally) so you don't owe anyone anything. I'm for sure rambling at this point but basically i have loved reading the series and i hope somewhere down the line you can start writing again for fun and for yourself!

hey!! i am more than happy to talk about this and the only reason I haven't until now because I wasn't sure anyone really cared and I didn't want it to be misconstrued as whining or ungratefulness. this is probably more of an answer than you were looking for but here we go...

before i came into the top gun fandom, I was very used to chucking my things into the void, as you said. some of my umbrella academy stuff got attention, but aside from a few key mutuals, there wasn't a whole lot. and I was okay with it because I was writing for me and no one else.

and then the og same mistakes trilogy caused my blog to blow up and I was very overwhelmed with the extraordinary overnight attention everything was getting. i went from nothing to so much scrutiny I didn't know what to do. I've gotten to meet and talk to wonderful people because of it, but I've also been subject to some pretty awful hate because of it too. and it never stopped. it just kept getting worse. there was a lot of pressure to deliver consistently and constantly and I felt like no matter what I wrote, I was never appeasing someone. there was always someone who didn't like it and wasn't afraid to tell me so.

ultimately i became resentful because if i never wrote same mistakes, then my blog never would've blown up and i'd never have gotten so much hate. i'd still be writing for me and not judging everything i write before it gets out onto the page. i try to remind myself that i never would've met so many amazing people but that stopped being enough after a little while. when I saw others writing amazing things and get the responses they absolutely deserved while I was being tagged in specific posts for writing things that had overused tropes, I started to wonder what I was doing wrong that I couldn't seem to appease anyone. why it wasn't good enough.

i sort of thought that if i took a step back and focused on other projects, like storm warning and flight risk, things would figure themselves out and the hate would die down and I could come back to same mistakes-verse. uhm, things didn't calm down. the hate didn't stop, as people started taking shots at these other projects (specifically flight risk) and my lack of faith in my writing started extending into my academics.

i've always been pretty proud of my academic writing, and as a historian, it's all I have. but when everyone online is telling you it's shit, and has been telling you that since June, it's hard not to view that for all of your writing. i already feel insecure in my field because I'm still new and honestly this was the last thing I needed.

so i decided to take a step back from all creative writing because it stopped being fun and it stopped being for me and I started hating everything I wrote because I knew no one would like it anyways. i hope it starts being fun again because I miss it and I want to come back to Rebel and Sunshine and Cowgirl and Carolina and all the characters that I love deeply but I don't know when or if that will happen.

#kylie answers #i overshared WHOOPS #same mistakes

[navxry]

You seem to be curious, no? Yes, I am indeed a literate rper! However, I have my regulations on... Matters like these.

Disclaimer: Despite the rules here, this is not made to target anyone specific. This is just my guideline for you AND for me because I myself sometimes do things that can be wrong, so I hope this can help you as well.

RP Notice:

I don't open up threads with just ANYONE that DMs me that wants to rp with me.

Be advised that I only do it when I'm aware we're friends, or if you want to do it as well and you don't mind. I've been roleplaying with a lot of people for years now, and I have a lot to say on my experience, so I'm being more selective with who I'm picking my partners on making threads.

If I don't reply for one day, please don't spam me in hopes I'll reply or constantly change your reply to remind me to reply.

Not only are you wasting your time, I'd be less motivated to reply to you. I have a life outside of roleplaying and in general, mostly focused on what I need to do and the like. If I don't reply for longer than 3+ days, remind me then unless I told you I'll be busy/going through a burn out.

If I tell you I'm burnt out of roleplaying a certain muse, please don't ask me to RP their AU versions or their genderbent version (if it exists).

This goes to everyone that knows me and probably has ideas of AUs with one or two same characters. All of us experiences burnout at SOME point, and I'm no exception. I may be kind in wording out the fact I'm burnt out, but if you ask me to roleplay their genderbent version or AU versions of themselves, be warned that I will deny if the burnout is recent OR if I really don't want to.

I hate being mean and/or putting up a boundary, but it makes things less fun if even YOU can tell from my replies that I don't want to roleplay as this person. So, for the sake of our enjoyment... Respect my wishes when it happens. Please.

Do not roleplay with me if you expect me to do all the work, especially in double ups.

What sucks ass in roleplaying is if you're getting one character while the other does most, sometimes all of them. Not only does it stress me out, it becomes less fun because it feels like it's only YOU that enjoys it.

Alongside this, be warned that on certain moments, I can and will ask you to roleplay as someone else that I either like or I can't roleplay at all. This is also evident with double-ups, because I myself cannot do self-indulgence. Do not tell me to do it myself, because chances are, we will not get along. Also, I do not care if you can't roleplay the person as close to canon, just respect my wishes and we'll be fine.

Do not godmod the roleplay.

Please, please, please don't dictate what you want a certain character to do/feel at ALL. I absolutely HATE having this happen— and especially if it's to someone I'm musing for YOU. If you want this character to do something that I'm not allowing them to (e.g.: make a sweet character do something unhinged, or even controlling them to do a certain action when it's obvious they aren't doing it on my reply), either tell me or don't do it.

Alongside that, Godmodding takes the joy out of roleplaying. I'm not an AI like character ai, and if you think I am, dni. I will not entertain people that would godmod my sonas, ocs, or even the characters I'm roleplaying as just because you didn't like what they're doing.

Be respectful of each other's interest.

If someone expresses an interest, please entertain it first. This is also evident on the matters of double-ups. Don't make it focused on what one person will do alone— its weird and it can be difficult to take it seriously. Also, I get uncomfortable when it happens.

This also applies to ideas on AUs and other matters. Please be warned that although I don't say it verbally, people could find it uncomfortable if they hate the attention being distributed equally. Finally, this applies to self-ships: do not make it all about you or your character unless said idea IS all about you or your character. I don't like saying it often, but if I do, it means you stepped over said line.

Please don't rp with me on one fandom only and only about you or people you like only :(

Sorry, selfshippers, but this is gonna be directed to those that want their selfship being rped but not... Anything else. See this as less of a warning and a gentle reminder that I have other interests and I am not a robot. I refuse to roleplay only one fandom alone, and I actually like it if there are more we can do. Again, I'm not a robot— I'm a human. Please respect me as one.

Finally, remember the human behind the screen.

A gentle reminder that in rps, we tend to forget we're all human. And that we're all not gonna be the best at times in roleplaying, and that's okay 🫂 I may have experience, but even I'm not great.

Remember that if you feel burnt out on a fandom, let your partner in rps know and do something else. Take care of yourself first BEFORE roleplays, and if your rp partner expresses the same, give them respect.

Don't see them as this easy/always online person that would entertain you forever. We're all humans, and that's one thing we all forget. So try and remember that.

I may add more as time goes on, but this is the list for now. If you have any inquiries, please let me know.

#🌹| navi speaks #🌹 | rp memo #🌹| do not reblog

[sophieinwonderland]

idk if this is on theme here but i need to yell this somewhere to someone who will maybe (?) understand

EVERYTIME I CREATE A FUCKING OF FOR RP THEY SPILT OFF INTO AN ALTER AND ITS NICE I LOVE TO HAVE THEM HERE BUT OH MY FUCKING GOD I AM GOING TO LOSE IT WE WANT TO KEEP THE SYSTEM SMALLER WHY THIS BITCH IF A HOST GOTTA BE SO TRAUMATIZED DAMN

Host: That sucks. I can't say that I exactly relate but this has been a source of paranoia of mine.

I hope you don't mind me making a personal vent of my own.

Sophie was accidental. An imaginary friend I talked to and person I pretended to be to get into the character's head. Abby and Almond, also accidental, being NPCs we interacted with who didn't have awareness of the outside world and later gained it.

I've avoided anymore accidental headmates by keeping my thoughts on a leash, not letting myself get too absorbed into anything. Reminding myself constantly that these are just characters and that none of them are real. Not in the way I or my headmates are.

It's worked. I've been able to keep myself from forming anyone else.

But I feel like the ideas are also not coming as consistently as they used to. Before Soph, I would just be able to let whole scenes play out in my head without fear. The writing felt so much more fluid. I could pretend to be an evil villain, overlaying that personality on top of my own. I could put myself in the shoes of the most heinous evil, the type that would look upon a baby and think it themselves how pathetic and worthless the creature was, not caring if it lived or died.

None of these thoughts or feelings were real. They're just me imagining what a character would think.

But now I have this fear that they would be. That if let myself go all in to a role like that again, I'll end up creating something else.

The good thing is that it being evil on that level probably wouldn't last. We have solid communication and compassion, and I'm certain we could tame any new headmate.

But I don't want that. Having a reformed villain in my head still could mess with my perception of their source, and I don't want to write villains who pull punches. I also don't want to create headmates of the heroes and have them want control over their stories. I need a level of elasticity with my writing and to not get too attached to any characters.

In truth, I've always struggled with writing. I lack the confidence to get my words out there. I'm scared of being judged. And part is a bad work ethic. Maybe's it's an autism thing but I think it's mostly a me thing, even though I'd rather blame a disorder to avoid taking personal responsibility.

But I've never struggled with coming up with ideas or immersing myself in the fictional worlds in my head

This has changed over the past year. I'm scared to immerse myself too deeply now, worried that I might dissociate too much from a simulation of a character and it will take on a life of its own.

Maybe I'm worried too much. But it's a fear that constantly plays at the corner of my consciousness whenever I daydream or brainstorm.

#ask box #host post

[dreamingdixon]

Hello, I know this is a bit of a weird ask and you absolutely don’t need to answer under any means but I’ve been really struggling with some writers block, so I thought I’d send an ask just for the sake of it! I really adore your writing and you’re so so creative so I thought you’d be one of the best people to ask.

I’m basically doing a fic/book (only for myself at the moment but I might consider posting it) which follows the TWD episodes/seasons somewhat as they are, but with an added OC who becomes a romantic but turbulent “thing” with Daryl in late season 2/early season 3. I have been really struggling with the infamous Daryl and Beth scenes when they're on their on the run, and I could just use some unbiased advice! I don't know whether to rewrite it to have it be a time for OC and Daryl to bond by themselves, maybe become official, whether it should be Daryl, Beth and OC somehow or whether it should just be Daryl and Beth still? I still want Beth's death to impact Daryl in some way, but l'm trying to figure out how to do that without those scenes being there, so that I can instead use them to solidify Daryl and OCs relationship situation. You absolutely don't have to answer, but I've been suffering from such heavy writers block due to this, so I thought I'd ask considering you have an amazing talent for writing and I love your blog. xx

Hey anon!

Thank you sm for thinking of me and bringing your question to me, that's literally such a compliment that you think I'd be able to help - I'm grateful!!

You have so many options here it's insane, so here are my thoughts:

I'd personally probably write Beth out of it for that time, have her escape w some of the others for OC to have time with Daryl like you suggested, it's such a good time for them to get to know each other, form a connection and you could really bring some deep conversations to light by a blazing fire, maybe even some healing depending on what their relationship is like. Maybe they fight because of the stress and the loss they're both feeling. Maybe Daryl's worried about Beth (she's young and he's not sure if she got out, or who with) or another character, and OC and Daryl only take shelter for a night or two before heading out again to search for lost friends, and during this time they get to understand each other better and take care of one another. Maybe your OC loses someone close during the fall, and Daryl's as caring as he can be during this time, despite still being fairly rough around the edges during S2/S3.

There's also so many options to keep Beth there - maybe Beth gets hurt as the three of you escape, and you and Daryl take it in turns to look after her, and it's so hard because it's a reminder of how dangerous this world is and how unpredictable everything is, that you find comfort in each other in between shifts of taking care of a sick Beth. You're so exhausted from running around, looking for supplies that one night you end up in his arms by the fire because you're so tired and you can't do it anymore, but he reminds you that you can, that you're keeping Beth alive and he admires you for it. Maybe OC got hurt, and it's how Daryl realises there's some affection growing for you, but he doesn't quite realize it yet, he doesn't understand why seeing you hurting makes him ache.

I realize I probably haven't helped you actually narrow down an idea here, and I'm so sorry! Hopefully there's some sort of plot here that stands out, or gets an idea into your mind. The fun thing about what you're doing, is that you can truly do whatever you want with it! Stretch out the timeline if you need to, add a character, add a death, re-write it so someone doesn't die, add a whole new character to the group etc! You could add extra content to their prison or farm era, showing some additional time spent between them to add depth to their relationship, to add to the impact it has on Daryl when she does die.

You're literally so welcome to message me off-anon and I'd help you brainstorm a bit more too if you'd like, or just narrow something down. Writers block is such a pain and I completely understand, I've been staring at the same page of my current story for two weeks just waiting for it to write itself, big yikes

[journey-to-the-attic]

Crying so hard at the thought of Ddvd Au and Jtta comparison, anon bestie you're so right.

The sweetest thing to me is the amount of love that surrounds JTTA IK and Ddvd Zhao. Be it familial, platonic or romantic, there is so much love that is showered onto the two characters. They are reminded each and everyday by these powerful people, by their friends, that they are loved and they are cared for. That they belong safe and sound in their company.

And that's a kindness unto themselves isn't it? After all the bad, shitty experiences that they went through, they are still so loved. They are still something meaningful to their friends. That the other characters genuinely want them in their lives.

With Jtta Ik, she's constantly reminded by her new family that she has worth. She is worth it and she means so much to them, that she will always be cherished by her found family and friends.

With Zhao, he's a little dense but being told, your first love may have left you but that doesn't mean we will. That doesn't mean no one will ever love you again. That they genuinely really like him, genuinely feel joy and love for him.

It makes me so feel so much, that despite everything, love endures and love grows.

Don't touch me I made myself emotional.

i know you said not to touch you but allow me to add one last thing... it’s like a lesson that there’s always still hope that, even if it takes a long, long time, the love you give will make its way back to you. you feel alone for so long, but there’s always hope that, one day, someone will come sit with you, and you won’t be lonely anymore.

#answering asks #anon asks #:') #dad in the devildom

[gleefullypolin]

Trying to stay neutral in the face of some of the worst takes you've ever seen is...hard. I try to remember that I may have had the same takes if you took away 10+ years of my fandom experiences. Kneejerk reactions and doom spiraling is very much how I expect younger me might have acted. Though I could do without how literally things are taken at the moment, that's tiring.

Glad to be of service! 🫡 If my main weren't connected to a side blog for another fandom where I know I'd bring possible unwanted attention to myself I'd happily out myself.😄

The double standards: it's very sigh worthy in general and I don't disagree, the men and some specifically, are being held to a standard that was probably unfair to hold them to in the first place. I do realize that a lot of stuff has been fanon or built up the last couple of years and I get it, it's hard to lose your idea of someone. I do think that there's a good chance that men in our ships in general are being held to a standard of the female gaze that isn't about physicality but female empowerment in general. So many men judge women for having sex then immediately do what they're saying women shouldn't do.

It's not really fair to the male characters but the idea that a man would wait for and only want one woman, to be powerless against her in the way women are often portrayed for men in regular media--I get it the appeal that it would carry for some. Men are usually held to a standard of some kind they're sure to miss. If you asked me do I remember meeting my significant other I can tell you details and time and place but if you asked him I'd bet he'd not be able to say much other than he says he knows I was it for him.

I'm with you, I hope that people remember that these are real people not the characters they play and even if they were, to mind their manners.

I have come to just not enjoy screeners at all over the years. I remember one using an emoji for something and you can only imagine how that went. They were biased on top of it and were 100% wrong in its intent. It was a little much.

I think if both scenes are true then we have to have the first one to have the other and the latter one is the only one that matters. The audience is not going to remember a sentence or a throwaway line but they'll remember the scenes themselves. If a throwaway line is enough to get the point across in a visual medium, there's no need to have him staring at her longingly. There's no need to create physical tension between them. They can just tell each other and whoop, problems solved.

I think this, if true, can be handled better but I also think people in fandom forget the largest audience is a general one and they're going to need some hand holding reminders of what's going on. Colin being unable to perform is a damning indictment of what he's done to himself and just how much Penelope affects him. And I have to say that two scenes I'd wager are less than 2-3 minutes total are not going to ruin the romance of a show that's going to have 8 near one hour episodes.

If anything about any of it was even mentioned to Penelope or at all after the fact I would be very surprised. This sort of thing feels very much just a way to establish something with Colin himself. I wouldn't be sad to see it not be true but if it is, I feel it's gotten more importance in fandom than the show is ever going to give it.

I can't imagine Colin being needlessly cruel to Penelope, his words were thoughtless and I'd love to know his side of that story but irrespective of romantic feelings, this man cares deeply for her as it is.

Oh my I went back and checked my original Tumblr blog and I first posted 13 years ago and I still cringe immensely as some of the takes I had back then. Spiraling doesn’t even begin to touch what I was doing back then. Like girl, we had full on meltdowns, actual knock down drag out fights, and even in person stand offs in our fandom. I laugh about it now, most of us are either friends, or acquaintances who see each other around on Facebook or twitter but none of it even matters anymore.

But it got so bad there before the show ended that I eventually abandoned that blog and ended up starting over years later AFTER OUAT had pretty ended on my Captain Swan blog where that family is just a very lovely group of women that have tolerated my absolute abandonment due to my complete anxiety of life. Lol

I didn’t know what to expect with Bridgerton, or even what to expect with a regency type show, it really wasn’t my type of show. And I didn’t know that it had existing books with it until after I had seen season 1. All the girls at work were like “OH girl swoon, you have to watch this show.” And I have a very lovely friend, Natalie, who had written a book called “Emmie and the Tudor King” about the Tudors and I was trying very hard to learn all the rules around that world, so I thought what the hell, lets try this. And now here the hell I am! In another fandom with an actively shooting show.

But after season 1 and 2 with Simon, Anthony, and Benedict, I just figured it make 100% sense that Colin would end up sleeping around. LOL because damn…there is always one seen isn’t there. Maybe it’s a Shondaland thing, or a timeframe thing, but its definitely a theme and its coming to our screen whether we want it or not. I saw a comment earlier today somewhere that if we got up and went to the bathroom during it, it would be over before we got back, so I’m taking solace in that!

I hope they treat Nic and Luke with respect after the season airs. I’ve met my fair share of seeing the actors take the heat of their characters and I have a hole in my heart for the trauma I carry around that fandom I spoke of earlier with how fandom got involved in the actors lives and the result. Again, being young and seeing the spirals of fandom, I feel like I could write a book lol.

Lets get rid of screeners. I get why they have them, pump the hype, but do they? Or do they pump the anger and anxiety? Sometimes they use their “power” to pump the ship wars or stir the wrong sentiment. I know the saying is that all attention is good PR but is it really?

I can’t imagine that Pen finds out about the women or the visit he makes there. I mean yes she or perhaps more likely LW may have something to say about his sudden swagger or new found ladies man behavior, but Pen is not a delicate flower either. She is Lady Whistledown and I don’t think she will wilt. I think last season may have hardened her a bit.

#my asks #wonderful people

[not-so-secret-poet]

Fucked up free therapy!

Recently, in these past few weeks, I've gotten into writing a lot more. I've written so much that it feels like my brain is rotting. I can't help but feel compelled to write everything I think. I wouldn't say it's an addiction but it definitely feels like one. I've been writing about me and my friend's characters, but thats not where this entry stems from.

I've been writing about my trauma, specifically composing unhealthy, harmful, toxic, and nauseating works of fiction. These stories make me sob, not because of how twisted these stories are. But because of how it's MY trauma, just dramatized. It's my trauma if I was excruciatingly brutalized more than I already was. I don't want to say these stories are helping, but they are.

I'm finally feeling seen by someone, even if it's myself. I detail everything to be horrifying. I always write in the narration that it's disgusting, and inhumane to do these acts to a helpless, defenseless, and weak child. It always makes me sob when reading my own work, it's been so normalized for me to just accept my villainization and dehumanization with ease.

Always laughing at the events and incidents that made me who I am. Laughing only does so much, just as therapy only takes you so far. When writing I feel my heart race, I hear the sounds of my atrocity, and I feel the emotions in full swing. I get flashbacks to those times, the touching, the weapon, the pain, the violence, all of it is clear when writing.

It's a reminder of what makes me, me, even when I don't want it to be. But I don't have a choice in the matter. At times, I can't even write out the events or exaggerate it. Sometimes, I just sob hysterically and fail to process it, mumbling under my breath about how someone can't do that to a child. Stating how abhorrent and voracious it is to violate a child through these acts of mortification.

Only having the empty space around me that is the wind, to be the audience that hears me question this. Praying someone gives me the answers to the inquiries. Desperately needing someone to tell me why everything happened the way it did. But then again, I could scream and no one would ever give me answers. Not because I am undeserving.

But because there is none, I can't have answers that don't exist, and thats what fundamentally kills me. The only way I can move on is with answers to my questions, but I'll never get them. Writing is the only time I'll ever get close to getting answers because at least then I can ask my questions to the dull void.

At least then I'll be able to have an outlet for once, trembling hands, shaky voice, tear-stained face, and all. In all these depictions, my persona is a victim, put through gruesome acts of cruelty and torture. Making myself the object of agony I so feel I am, to the extent I am. Ultimately allowing me to be heard without the worry of belittling comments and judgmental glares.

I'll never be told again that something didn't happen when I know full well it did, because I can make these vile fictitious characters take accountability for their actions. The way their human counterparts never will, and will always refuse to. I can make all these characters show the worst parts of themselves, and get the closure I need. Without hearing I'm a fraud for telling my story.

Writing is the only way someone can understand me. They'll get the glimpse into the mind they so desire, so they can complain. They'll criticize and scrutinize everything I've written, but they'll know it was based off of real events. And that is what will stick, the fact that it happened to me.

I don't care if people will never believe me, no one ever did when I was younger. So why would they now? Why would I care now? Desecrate me, it won't change what you did or what you plan to do. I'll be your victim, but I won't be silent about it. I'll break and spill eventually, I'll take being seen in the worst light if it means everyone will see you for who you are. It doesn't matter if it's my fault, you're still the one who exploited me.

[theressomethingabouttrip]

yt script i wrote that i may or may not use.

Hey guys, I know I don't usually make videos like this but I personally wanted to get this out into the world due to the discourse around the two newest games Sonic Superstars and Super Mario Bros Wonder. I see a lot of unnecessary hatred towards Superstars, and I don't think it's justified. Before we get into the video, I want to explicitly state that I AM **NOT** HATING ON WONDER. I'm simply trying to show that Superstars is not as bad as it's made out to be. Also, disclaimer: sorry my voice may sound wonky, I'm sick right now. Anyways, let's get into the video.

Sonic Superstars came out 3 days ago as of writing this script, and Wonder released just today. Fans are set on the fact that Superstars is a scam when compared to Wonder. I don't personally agree with that. Many people are saying that Superstars is "Half-baked" and "unfinished". While I do agree that some aspects of the game have their pros and cons, I wouldn't go so far as to say the game is a scam. 

Some parts of the game really intrigued me, such as the special character acts and the usage of the medals earned in story mode, not to mention the fact that the all new character Trip the Sungazer has her own entire campaign. I love the implied dynamic of Amy and Trip, as they seem to be really good friends near the end of the story. The character gimmicks are also not that bad, with Amy having a double jump, Tails can fly as always, Knuckles being able to climb and glide, Sonic can dash right after a jump, and Trip can roll up and cling onto walls.

The game does indeed have it's downsides, too. The bosses really stay longer than they need to, with unnecessary invincibility windows. Sometimes the game can feel underwhelming, where all you need to do is hold right. 

One thing I think was a great idea but could be executed much better was the Chaos Emerald powers. None of them are inherently bad, however they're somewhat forgettable. I find myself dashing and flying through the levels without using the powers. Maybe they could've put a small tab in the bottom right hand corner of the emeralds you have, reminding you of thr powers you can use. The online versus mode could also definitely use some tweaking.

I don't see any issues with the colors or artstyle, and think it looks very cute and colorful and pops from the screen. What I will say is, as an avid Kirby fan, it reminds me a lot of Return to Dreamland Deluxe. Now, is that a good or bad thing? Well... you can take that how you will. 

The soundtrack is another thing that a lot of people think is absolute trash. The game has no lyrical soundtracks, instead being chock full of instrumentals. And I don't have a problem with that. However, a lot of people are basing their opinion of the game as a whole on this sole reason, saying that this was one of the worst things that could happen to a Sonic game. I believe, not naming names, there were... many WORSE games.

The final complaint that I run into the most is that the game isn't fast enough in any aspect, whether that be the loading time or the characters themselves. I agree with the fact that it can take a while to load when going from Act to Act. But the characters' speed is the same as any other classic Sonic game. And before everyone runs to the comments saying, "But Trip! You've never played a classic Sonic game!", me and my dad both play Sonic 2. And, at least to me, in these games you need to build up momentum, you don't have top speed from the get go. As is in Superstars.

Something to keep in mind as well is that there was clearly thought and care put into the game. We can see this as we run through Pinball Carnival Act 2 and run into Tails Doll, who was last seen in-game about 25 years ago. We also notice the little thing Sonic does, swinging over the rock in Bridge Island Act 1. 

While the game may be a little pricey, that's not necessarily the defining factor of "Is Superstars worth it or not?". I personally don't have the digital deluxe pack, as I pre-ordered Superstars and got it on day 1. So... maybe my opinion on this specific area of the game isn't too validated. That being said, maybe we should just move on.

Now to talk about Wonder. Wonder is a great game that released just three days after Superstars, being an instant hit with the fans. It's mainly being hyped for its new special abilities, such as the Bubble ability or the Elephant. I have yet to play this, but probably will the next time I see my girlfriend as she got the game today. The game is wonderful, no pun intended. I'm very intrigued by the Wonder Seeds, and adore that the game is non-linear. 

What I don't understand is why people are choosing sides, and most are choosing Wonder. Don't get me wrong, I have NOTHING against Mario. I was always a Nintendo kid, playing Mario Kart and... whichever game my dad had... from the time I was itty bitty. I used to spend hours on end playing Wii Sports, and have played a bunch of Kirby games. So in no way whatsoever am I showing bias towards Sega. 

But I think fans are taking it too far by saying quote "NintenDON'T scam their fans, Sega does." Nintendo has let people down countless times. Hell, us Kid Icarus fans are STILL starving for more content over here. I think it's unfair that what I'm hearing from other fans is that Sega is practically done for, and should just let the fans continue the Sonic series on their own. They say that Sega has grown to just be greedy... however, it's often Nintendo churning out the cash grabs. 

Since when was one better than the other? Both Sonic and Mario are absolute staples in the video game world. I don't think it's very fair to compare one to the other. But that's all I can really say, especially since I haven't entirely finished Superstars yet because I've been busy with school and testing season and a bunch of other things.

Anyways, thanks for watching! Maybe subscribe and stay a while? Stay fresh.

#nine meows #sonic superstars #super mario wonder #fandom discourse

[ahungeringknife]

Repostober 3

I don't remember if I ever posted this before but I DO know it's old (like 2016 jfc) and I still :eyes: about it. This really helped me figure out stuff about the actual main characters (Relora is their mom) and the MC's relationship with his patron god.

*marge holding a potato pose* I just think she's neat

------

In her dreams there was smoke and the smell of cinnamon spice. There was the sound of swords and spears clashing against each other. There was rivers of blood that washed under the cracks in doors and splattered on walls. And there was screaming. So much screaming.

When she was awake it was much quieter.

A hot wind rustled the leaves of the carefully manicured trees around the oasis and caressed Relora’s face like rough hands of a lover. She closed her eyes against it and whispered into the wind a single, perfect, impossible, wish. That Spayar was alive. She didn’t want to tempt her chances with ‘safe’. Alive would suffice. She heard someone come up behind her and turned.

It was Javin. “How long have you been out here?” he asked her as he came up to her. Javin was tall and light skinned with strange, straight black hair, and black eyes. His mother had been a Xai slave, his father from the noble caste. A bastard son with a slave and still had more reputation than Relora to most Dirinnans.

“Not long,” she lied. She liked being out on the patio that overlooked the oasis and the desert around it. It was like from here she could see Riten, and in the west there were the Nevarsk mountains, huge and looming like the teeth of the gods. Javin didn’t like her being out here in her condition. The sun was always a killer and out here in the Amber Sea it was especially brutal. There was no covering on the patio and the pale stone could be blinding and cook you in no time if you weren’t careful.

“Why don’t you come back inside?” he coaxed her and took her hand. She really didn’t want to but she followed him anyway. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m alive, aren’t I?” she asked.

“You know what I mean,” Javin said and looked back at her and her huge stomach.

“Then who are you worried about?”

“You, of course,” Javin said, insulted. He led her into a sitting room where not a few others were also sitting and relaxing, talking, playing some sort of hand games or just by themselves. She let herself be made to sit and Javin took a knee in front of her. “Spayar was my friend,” he reminded her. “I told him I’d look after you.”

“I’m able to do that myself,” she said, knowing she sounded ungrateful but also knew it was just the hormones. Not that it wasn’t untrue. As soon as she’d been able she’d fled from her mother’s side and taken care of herself. Hadn’t been hard, her mother had hated her.

Javin knew that too because he didn’t take offense. “I know,” he said patiently. “But you’re in a delicate state right now. Spayar would be reborn just to kick my ass if I let anything happen to either of you,” he glanced down at her stomach again.

“Heh… yes he would,” she agreed.

“Stay inside the rest of the day, hmm? Havarsi says we should be getting word from Ûrdovük today. So we should know some more things. Maybe it’ll have good news.”

“Right,” Relora said but hardly believed herself. It’d been nearly an entire Watch without a single sign that any of their missing friends had been found. No one had even heard rumor that anyone who hadn’t already been accounted for was even still alive. Not that it was exactly easy to say who might be dead or captured since those damn warlocks had destroyed all their tunnels and buildings.

“Have faith,” he said, patting her knee.

“Javin, that’s all we are, is faith,” she said.

“Then keep it like that,” he said and got up. He kissed her on the cheeks and between the eyes. “I’ll come get you when Havarsi says we get news,” Javin squeezed her shoulder and she nodded. He left her there and Relora was left in the sitting room.

It didn’t take long for others to come over to bring Relora into their conversations. They asked how her pregnancy was going and each one of them made a wish over her stomach for her unborn baby’s benefit that made her smile. They talked about what they were doing out here at the oasis. Everyone had a job to do and they were just taking a break. They also spoke about how lucky Relora was since the Watch of Light was predicted to be coming to an end so her baby would likely be born during the Watch of Rain. That, of course, was lucky. Double so since Relora was also born during a Watch of Rain and Rain children born of Rain mothers were especially lucky. Of course she was due very soon and this Watch had been especially long.

While they talked they worked. Those who did sewed and those who didn’t did something else, like carving or knot work. Relora wasn’t good with her hands in any of those ways and someone ventured out to the kitchen for her. They came back with fruit that needed to skinned and deseeded and a perfectly sharp little knife for her. It was nice to talk and work even if her big stomach made it difficult.

Around sunset Javin came back and found her almost exactly where he’d left her. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, “I must steal Relora away.”

“Go do something useful, Javin,” one of the men complained.

“Yes, we’re busy. So should you be.”

“Pft, once a noble’s son always a noble’s son,” it was not meant to be taken seriously and everyone laughed, even Javin.

“I’m sorry. My hands are just so soft and delicate. What if I pricked myself with a needle? Or cut myself with a knife?” Javin complained in dramatics. “I would be ruined!” The group laughed again as Javin helped Relora stand. “Havarsi was right. News came in from Ûrdovük from our friends.”

“Good news though?” Relora asked as she followed Javin out of the room.

“I don’t know. He just said he’d gotten a letter and I came right to get you.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“All we can do is pray, right?” he gave her a hopeful look.

“Right,” she agreed softly as they walked across the common house to a private office-like room where Havarsi was standing at the window, stroking the head of his sandpiper owl.

“There you went,” Havarsi said, turning to them. Havarsi was old, his curly black hair with streaks of white throughout and his dark skin was loose around his mouth and jowels. But his black eyes were still sharp. He was low born, a fisherman by birth who’d married the daughter of shepherds. They’d never had any children. Neither of their caste positions were easy lives and they’d decided unless their children could move up and not across in the caste system they would have none. Since there was no vertical growth to be had in the caste system they’d never had children and it was why Havarsi had helped start the rebellion back before Relora had even been born. Nevi had been murdered far before Relora had joined but she’d heard all about the powerful hexite Nevi had been.

“I told you I was getting her,” Javin said.

“He said you had news from Ûrdovük?” she asked, almost too scared to want a real answer.

“Yes,” Havarsi said, nodding slowly.

“And? Good news. Any news?”

Havarsi went over to the low table and picked up the tablet. Unlike most, the rebellion used the art of clay tablets to send messages. The writing style was old and modern Dirinnans couldn’t read it but all prominant people in the rebellion knew how. Modern writing for Dirnine was intricate caliography that took up a lot of space and didn’t get to the point quickly but clay tablet writing was compact and you could fit a lot of information in very little space. “Came in with a caravan passing down to Sengai,” he said. “There was a raid on our eastern safe house, but everyone managed to escape. Fifty new recruits since last-

“I don’t care about that,” Relora snapped. “I want to know if they found any of our people!”

Havarsi’s face was emotionless, he gave away nothing. Her heart still dropped when he said, “They still have no information on if anyone from Dockery is alive. There’s still rubble-

Relora spit. Right into her hand and slapped it onto the clay tablet. Javin stared at her horrified and Havarsi was more than a little shocked. It was incredibly bad manners to spit on writing since ink could be diluted by your saliva. It was a clay tablet but the insult remained. “Don’t care,” she said and walked out.

“Hey— Relora-

“Don’t mind it Javin. She’s emotional and pregnant. She’s just upset,” she heard Havarsi tell Javin before she was out of ear shot.

Relora went to the kitchen and carefully made her way down into the cellar that had been carefully dug out so no sand could make it through the cracks in the walls. On a shelf against the wall were various satchels filled with food that wouldn’t go bad for a long while in case something happened and everyone had to get out quickly. They were cautionary but this far out in the Amber Sea the Monarchy didn’t care enough about them to reach their great jeweled hands out here to squish them. She grabbed one of the satchels and went back up the steep stairs and walked out of the common house.

She didn’t plan on going far, just to the other side of the oasis where there was a shed. She just didn’t want to be there anymore. Maybe she was being an irrational pregnant woman but she didn’t care. She walked away from the common house, around the oasis to the shed which was empty save for some tools and sat down in the shade. Across the water she could see the common house half hidden under the trees. Outside the sun was setting and she watched it. From the satchel she pulled out a candle and a fire starter and lit the candle, placing it on the counter in the shack. She sat on the stool at the counter and stared out the grated window at the Nevarsk in the west that cast long shadows and swallowed the sun, bringing an early twilight to this part of the Amber Sea. As the sun winked out between the grags of the Nevarsk Relora allowed what Havarsi had said sink in. No new information. She sniffed and before she knew it was crying into her hands.

It had been an entire Watch and they had no information on Spayar. Not a whisper. She didn’t even know if anyone was still looking. Or maybe they only were because Relora had asked. Because you didn’t just tell a powerful hexite like Relora no. They were looking knowing they would find nothing. And she could do nothing to help except wish. She couldn’t go back to Ûrdovük to help them look for Spayar because she was pregnant. Fazaar had put his foot down when she’d wanted to stay after the Dockery raid. She wasn’t staying. They’d lost so many at the Dockery raid. Both rebel soldiers and fellow hexites and that had been before the Monarchy had sent their mages to rip the block apart just to try and kill a few more. Relora had been a lucky one to escape and when she’d shown up at the eastern hideout Fazaar had been there. He’d told Javin to take her out to the Amber Sea where she would be safe. Safe to have her baby. Away from the caste system, where no one would care they’d been born to a rebel, an untouchable, or a hexite.

Relora put her arm around her stomach as she cried. Spayar was probably gone and all she had of him was the child growing inside her. She knew it would be a mage too. Because she’d woken one day and started sucking on coins. Any coins she could find even though everyone had laughed at her. She hadn’t cared and they’d stopped when she told them it was because her baby would be a metal smith like his father. Spayar had told him his mother had coated her hands and stomach with fine gold leaf when she’d been pregnant with him. It had been the only thing that had quieted him in her body so she could sleep. He said even when he’d been little she’d kept an iron coin in her cheek and his pacifyer had had a ring of iron on the back. It had been the only reason his family had risen to the top of their caste, almost able to push through to the next one if not for the invisible ceiling between them. Mages always pulled their families up from the lowest to as high as they could go in their caste.

Fazaar had sent Relora out here to have her baby so it’d be out of the caste system. If no one could prove who their parents were it meant no one could tell what caste a mage belonged to. It was a boon for the mage and it was why so many ended up in orphanages. Orphan mages could go on to be anything. Most of them ended up becoming dogs for the Monarchy so it hardly mattered and they lived in near slavery to the Monarchy. But out here the mage son of a powerful hexite and a metal smith could become a force for good for the rebellion. A powerful mage who might also be a hexite? Fazaar, Havarsi and the other leaders of the rebllion probably didn’t even care Spayar was dead. This wouldn’t be over soon and they knew it’d be decades yet before they toppled on the Monarchy. They had time for a powerful mage.

The entire thing just made Relora cry harder and she curled around her stomach. Her baby wouldn’t be a slave to the Monarchy. They’d just be a tool of the rebellion.

Eventually she exhausted herself. She drank some water and curled up on the wooden floor of the shack and fell asleep.

She didn’t know what woke her. Something. It had been sharp like the bark of a hyena but hadn’t been a sound. Relora sat up slowly, her head aching and looked around. She didn’t remember where she was a moment before knowing. Right. She’d been angry at Havarsi for giving her no news about Spayar and had come across the oasis to spite those men in the common house.

It wasn’t light out but she needed to go pass water from the night before. She hobbled out of the shack and squatted down around the back, her back to the wall. She she did she looked out across the dark landscape of the Amber Sea and its slow rolling dunescape that mirrored the tall crags of the Nevarsk. She rubbed her eyes, thinking she was seeing things, as she looked at the top of a dune. There was a lion up there. Lions didn’t come this deep into the Amber Sea. There wasn’t enough to hunt. But it was a lion. Then Relora nearly fell over when the lion shifted and half spread a huge pair of wings.

A sphinx!

Relora pulled herself up the wall of the shack to her feet, staring the sphinx. It was a duality creature. Both insanely lucky and beautiful, but it was a creature made by Sevok the lier. What was it doing here? What was she supposed to do? The sphinx looked across the Amber Sea and then around and right down at Relora. At this distance she couldn’t see its face too well but it was distinctly human-like. It looked down at her with golden eyes and then turned and started walking down the other side of the dune. As it did it flicked its tail in an almost ‘follow’ motion.

Relora was too shocked to move. Then she found her legs and went back into the shack and grabbed the water jug before going out to follow the sphinx. She crawled up the dune. At the top she was hit by a sharp feeling in her groin like she’d been stabbed. She looked down but saw nothing. It hurt like hell for a few seconds before easing and passing. She saw the sphinx down at the bottom of the dune and it looked up at her, swishing its tail. Relora started to slide down the dune and the sphinx started to climb the next dune.

Up and down and up and down they went. Every now and then a pain would shoot through Relora and a few times she fell to one knee but always got back up. The sphinx always waited for her. Then they came to a flat part of the Sea and there was no more climbing, which Relora liked because her legs were starting to hurt and cramp from the climbing. Instead, somehow, impossibly, they were at the base of one of the Nevarsk. Relora looked up the mountain. The sphinx did not go for the mountain. They went around to where the desert became trees. From a distance they looked green but as she followed the sphinx she saw they were gold and wrought iron. Or rather there was one huge tree that was black and gold and it was so large that it dominated her sight as she approached it. The trunk was as wide across as a Riten elephant and opalescent with thin, peeling, bark that had turned luminous at the edges.

Relora stared up in awe at the legendary tree. It was called the Dehvask tree. It was said the first King had been born from under it and and he’d gone on to create Dirin and the Monarchy, carving their country away from Riten and the once neighboring country of Betton before it had become part of the Federation. It was also said that the gods could be found under the Dehvask tree. Their favorite food were the fruits that grew in its branches.

There was a figure under the tree and Relora hung back. In the grey dawn she’d been walking in it was impossible to see who it was. They were long and lean and leaned against the Dehvask tree eating something. It took Relora a moment to realize it was eating one of the fruits of the tree. The sphinx went up to the god and they offered some to it. The sphinx took it gently in its mouth and slumped at their feet, gnawing on the fruit. Then the figure turned and noticed Relora. They raised their hand up to her in greeting, index finger held apart from the other three.

Slowly Relora approached the tree. “Hello?” she said cautiously and glanced at the sphinx which was ignoring her.

“There you are,” the god spoke with candor and a bright voice that was plesant to listen to. Finally she looked at him and felt the blood drain out of her face. It was Sevok. He was a handsome low lander with dusky dark skin and a head full of a thousand ringlets. His eyes were like sapphires and blood trickled from his mouth. Not from inside his mouth, but from around from where he’d torn away the stitches his father, Jai, had sewn his mouth shut for his disobediance.

“What are you doing here?” she asked softly.

Sevok stepped forward and she flinched when he reached out and put golden hands on either side of her stomach. Her baby woke and kicked her hard, right where Sevok’s hand was. “Shhh, little one, no need for that,” Sevok cooed and stroked Relora’s stomach gently. The baby quieted. He looked up at Relora, “They’re going to die,” he said.

“What?” she squeaked.

“I’ve been speaking with your patron,” he said. “She sees more children in your future, and they’re all going to die here.”

Relora was afraid before rationality kicked in. “Die of old age? Then of course they are.”

Sevok’s smile was sweet and terrible. “No,” he said. “This land will kill them. Every. Last. One. And those are the ones that don’t die in your womb.” She swallowed. “Your patron says you do more work when you suffer. Isn’t that cruel?”

“What do you want with me?” she asked.

“Do you want to continue to suffer? Do you want your children to die? If the Monarchy doesn’t find them and bend them to service your little rebellion will instead. You know that. The civil war here will kill them.”

“I don’t want them to die, or to suffer. I have suffered enough.”

“Yes, you have,” Sevok agreed and brushed his golden hand against her face. “I can help with that.”

“What? Do what?”

“I can make your child immortal,” Sevok said and drummed his fingers on the side of her stomach.

“That’s impossible.”

“I’m a god,” Sevok smirked. “You doubt me?”

“You’re a liar. Of course I doubt you,” she scowled at him.

“Ah, but I also tell the truth,” he tutted.

“What’s in it for you?”

He giggled. “You know, no one ever asks that,” he beamed at her. Even with the bloody face he was handsome. “Smart girl. I will make your child immortal but they will be mine.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I will be their patron.”

“And if I say no they will die?”

“Yes. Once they’re grown. Once they’re old enough for you to love them and they have made others love them. Once they’re so close to showing everyone an end is in sight. Then they will die.”

“And my other children? They will die too?”

“Yes. I’m not sure of the specifics, but they will.”

“How do I make sure they’re safe too?”

“Leave this place. This country. Go where you can be free.”

She swallowed. “Why do you want my child so much?”

“Because,” he smirked. “I know greatness when I see it,” his smirk grew into a broad, cunning, grin. “And I would pluck it from my brothers and sisters before they even knew they existed.”

Relora took a deep breath and pain hit her again. It was probably just the baby as it kicked her again. She closed her eyes and when she opened them looked down at her stomach. Her precious child. All she had of Spayar because he was gone. There was no doubt he was gone. If she found another and had more children it wouldn’t matter. This would be all she ever had of his love. She didn’t want to see her child die. Then it would be like what she and Spayar had had had never been. She looked up at Sevok. “You can have them. But you must promise me they will survive.”

“They will be immortal,” Sevok said.

“Which could mean fucking anything,” she growled. “I don’t care about immortality. I care that my child will not die.”

Sevok giggled again. “They will live for as long as they’re able. They will be powerful and respected because they will command it.”

“Will they be like me, or like their father?”

“More than their father, but not quite like you. Now do you agree?”

Relora took a deep breath. “You can have them,” she said.

“Excellent. Come,” he took her hand and led her under the Dehvask tree. There he pulled down one of the branches and plucked a fig shaped fruit from the boughs. It was a huge fruit and the skin shimmered like a mirage. He put it in her hand and it was heavy, heavier than a simple piece of fruit should have been. “You’ve been here before,” he said and reached up to grab the branch and hung from it like a monkey.

“I haven’t,” she said.

He giggled. “Yes, you have. All hexites have been to the Dehvask tree. Before you were born, before my father stitched your soul into your body, you were here. There you were given a choice. Eat the fruit of the Dehvask tree, or forego it. All Dirinnans are given the choice you know? The Dehvask tree is special to you people because Hehvahnstek likes you so much.” Relora didn’t like the sound of that. Hehvahnstek was a strange god. He was the god of the Watches and commanded when the rain fell and when it did not and he was also the god of growing and the god of withering. Hehvahnstek was almost as bad a patron a Sevok. “He planted the Dehvask tree in the body of a great New sphinx. Its starlight blood ran into the sands and became the Amber Sea, its gold and silver body allowed the Dehvask tree to grow and Aigin created the first Dirinnans from the wet sands of the Amber Sea. And so you were allowed to taste a thing gods had made and become almost like a New thing.

“Almost everyone says no. In fact, everyone did, until Behnv.” Relora’s eyes narrowed. Behnv was the name of the first King who’d ruled the Monarchy and lashed the Dirinnans into castes like cattle. “He was a hexite, did you know? And then no one ate from the tree for a long time after. Until recently. Old souls remebering their old homes and hating. They wanted power to fix what horror had been given to their home, so they gourged themselves on fruit from the Dehvask tree because it would give them power like a King.”

“And what will more do?” she asked him.

“Your fate will take you far from Dirin,” Sevok said, swining from the branch contently, a near happy smile on his face. “Dirinnans who leave the grace of the Amber Sea cannot try for the Dehvask tree. But eating one as you are now will do two things; it will allow your future children the same opportunity all Dirinnans have even if they are born far from here; and it will give you more power.” He snickered. “The living aren’t allowed to eat from the Dehvask tree. Only the dead.”

“Will Hehvahnstek be angry if I eat the fruit?”

“No. Yes. Maybe. Who can say. He tends the water fields with Perunez and squabbles over wind tides. He probably won’t even notice.”

Relora didn’t know who Perunez was. She looked at the color shimmering fruit. She winced as another pain hit her and she groaned, leaning over. “Has my baby eaten from the Dehvask tree?” she asked him once the pain passed.

Sevok’s smile was all cunning. “Maybe,” was all he said. “Who tries the fruit of the Dehvask tree is their own business. Now are you going to eat that?”

Relora looked down at the huge fig shaped fruit again. “If you know my fate will take me from Dirin do you know if Spayar is alive?”

“Who?”

“The father of my child.”

Sevok rose a perfectly sculpted brow at her. “Now why would I care if he’s alive or not? He’s a petty mage.”

“He’s the father of the child you want so badly,” she said, temper flairing.

“I still don’t see how that’s relevant,” Sevok said. “Regardless, I don’t know.” Relora glared at him, squeezing the sacred fruit so hard her fingers dug in to the tender flesh. Nector made of light started to leak down her hand. “Careful there. You only get one.”

She looked down at the fruit and took a big bite. It was cold in her mouth. So cold, like what she imagined ice tasted like. It numbed her tongue and made her jaw ache from the cold. As she ate the pain in her groin grew and she felt the baby kick her as hard as it could in the guts. Or she assumed it was the baby. The pain was sharp and then eased and then flared again without any rhyme or reason and she did her best to ignore it but the pain was so great tears flowed free from her eyes even as she ate. There was no end to the Dehvask fruit. No matter how much she ate there was always more. Sevok just watched as he hung from the branch, legs curled up under himself gleefully. The sphinx also watched from under the shade with it’s strange humanoid face and glinting golden eyes. Nector dripped down Relora’s arms and dropped into the red sands surrounding the Dehvask tree. It shined like starlight and became diamonds as it hit the sand.

She couldn’t finish it and she realized that was the trap of the Dehvask tree and the fruit that it bore.

The Dehvask tree gave power to any Dirinnan who cared to eat from it. Unborn hexites ate from the tree as bodiless souls and they ate until they could fill themselves with the power the Dehvask tree gave. It was the power of godhood. To directly change and alter things because you wished them to be that way. But eventually a flimsy, untested, unsewn, soul could eat no more and it allowed itself into the hands of Aigin’s six armed seamstresses who stitched the soul to its new body and it was allowed to fill itself with life, with knowledge and pain and greed. Souls had no greed. Only the living did and it was why the living weren’t allowed to eat of the fruit of the Dehvask tree or they would eat it unending. Souls only ate what they could fill themselves with. A person would eat until they could no more. But the Dehvask fruit never got smaller and Relora’s stomach never grew full. Instead she could eat unending until she put aside her greed, to know herself well enough to know she had had enough.

How much was enough? How much of the fruit did you have to eat before you became a demi god? Before you because a lesser god? Before you became a true god?

Only the pain made her stop. She doubled over as the worst pain yet hit her right in the gut and she saw stars and gagged on her power and blood. Her breath was ragged and saliva mixed with blood dribbled out of her mouth, open in wordless agony, and onto the barely eaten Dehvask fruit. She looked up at Sevok, her eyes still overflowing with tears. “Is this normal when a mortal eats this?” she asked him.

Sevok’s grin was devious though she supposed all his looks were devious. He was by nature a devious being. Aigin and Jai had made him to be nothing but. Another stab of pain and she convulsed, nearly dropping the fruit. “No. But it is pretty normal for pregnant ladies,” he said.

“What?”

He giggled. “Contractions,” he said.

“Did I do enough?” she asked.

“One bite would have been enough.”

She was shaking but didn’t drop the fruit even as she reached down and grabbed at her groin under her belly. “And what now?”

“Now,” Sevok said, “you are more powerful than you were before. So much more powerful.” Another contraction crashed into her and she almost fell over. Instead she just gasped in pain and bent over. “Never expected a little nothing girl like you to eat so much,” he said. “Let’s hope your child gets even half your ability. But now, you’re no use to me. Can’t have you dying here because of neglegence. Wake up.”

Relora opened her eyes as another contraction stabbed at her. She heard people calling her name. She was lying in the sand outside the back of the shack at the base of one of the great dunes. Above the sky was strange and only half there and she could only see a few of the stars in the dark. A dream? She’d had a dream. What a terrible dream.

Feet ran up to her and she looked up at them. No Javin but the other hexites who’d been hiding out here at the edge of the Amber Sea. “Relora,” Sehvarh said.

“What are you doing here?” Haf didn’t ask her, they were asking one of the others.

“I had a dream,” Jermine said.

“As did I,” said Hevst.

“Did we have the same dream?” Haf asked them.

Relora smiled a little through a pain. “What did you dream of?” she asked them.

“A sphinx,” Jermine said and the others were nodding. “I was following a sphinx in the rain and we came upon you and you were dying.”

“I jumped right out of bed and ran here,” Hevst said.

“What are you doing out here?” Sehvarh asked her now.

Relora pushed herself up so she was somewhat upright. “A sphinx came to me too,” she said. “It led me to the Devhask tree,” everyone’s eyes widened. “I don’t remember what else,” she lied. “I just remember in my dream I thought I was dying.” She laughed helplessly in pain. “Instead, I’m in labor.”

“Oh!” and Sehvarh immediatly leaned down to help her.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jermine said and the two of them helped her sit. She gasped and moaned in pain.

“We need to get you back to the common house,” Sehvarh said.

“Someone run ahead and wake the midwife,” Jermine said as he and Sehvarh helped Relora stand. She grit her teeth as another contraction crashed into her and she saw stars. She’d been told about the pain of child birth but she honestly hadn’t expected it to be quite so acutely horrible. Nothing but the act of it prepared you for child birth. No amount of warnings or cautionary words or stories from other mothers prepared you for it. Haf ran off, kicking up sand as he did. Hevst stayed and helped the other two hexites half carry Relora back to the common house.

Lights turned on in the common house before they got near and she saw a few people come to stand out on the patio. Once they were close enough several of the larger men came out from the light that spilled out across the sands of the Amber Sea and took Relora from Sehvarh and Jermine. They carried her into the common house to the midwife who told them to place her gently on a wooden board that was at an angle from the ground with a place to put her feet. A large, deep, bucket filled with water from the oasis was put beneath the board and Relora whimpered in pain at another contraction.

Her midwife, Seri, checked her over. She put fingers in places Relora would really rather she didn’t and wiped the sweat off Relora’s face and removed most of her clothes so she wouldn’t overheat inside in the heat of a Watch of Light. “You’re very far along,” Seri said.

“Is that good?” Relora asked, panting and grimacing.

“It means you’ll be able to start pushing soon,” Seri said. Seri fiddled with something on the board and dislodged some sort of lock so Relora was allowed to recline a bit more and not put so much pressure on her feet so she could rest. At least for a little while before Seri moved the board back up into position.

It was day break when the quiet of the Sea was shattered when Relora screamed. All Relora knew was pain as her body felt like it was about to be ripped right in two. She had thought the contractions were bad but they were nothing to the labor of trying to give birth.

Between a trial to push her child out she slumped against the board, hair clinging to her face and her skin glittered with sweat. Seri had moved the board back up to a nearly forty-five degree angle so Relora had to sort of squat. She said it made birthing easier because gravity helped pull the baby out of the mother. Relora didn’t know or care if it was true. She just knew it hurt. Seri wiped her face of tears and sweat and gave her some cool mint tea. After she drank and looked up at the ceiling.

She had a strange sence of clarity then. She was a hexite. Before she’d just been a stronger than average one. But now she’d eaten deeply from the Dehvask tree and Sevok said she was even more powerful. She knew, somehow, that she had eaten for hours, and it had made her more.

“I wish my child was born,” she whispered.

“Alright, let’s try again,” Seri said, having not even heard Relora. “Ready to go, dear?” Seri asked.

Relora breathed deep, closed her eyes, and nodded. “I wish my child was born,” she said again opening her eyes and reached up to touch her third eye in the middle of her forehead.

She still sobbed and gave a half scream when Seri told her to push down. It took several more great pushes and cries before she felt a great pressure come lose in her body and gasped in relief. Her body ached and shook. “Almost there,” Seri said, right beside her, holding her arm. “Once more,” she encouaged and Relora gave a half hearted spasm and the afterbirth came out too. Seri moved quickly and lowered the board to horizontal and then pulled the deep bucket away from the board.

Relora lay there just breathing and trying to compose herself just a little bit. She had never felt so exhausted. She’d never felt so much pain. She lifted her head weakly when she heard the first cry of little lungs who’d breathed their first breath. She tried to sit up. “Just stay there, I’ll bring him to you in a moment.”

“Him?” Relora asked weakly.

“Mhm!” was all Seri said and Relora sagged onto the board. Seri came over and Relora opened her eyes and looked at Seri. The midwife was holding a swattling of red and gold cloth framing a little brown face and squinty black eyes. “The cause of all that screaming. Quite a cutie, isn’t he?” Seri teased her. Relora reached out and Seri let her touch them. “Let’s get you onto something more comfortable and then you can hold him, how’s that sound?” Relora nodded mutely, staring at her new son.

Seri called someone in to help her and Relora was gently peeled off the board like dried laundry on a rock. She was wrapped in a red and blue kitenge, leaving one breast exposed, and half carried across the birthing room to a more comfortable bed filled with cattail fluff. Relora basked in the comfort of it and Seri came over to her and offered the infant to her. Relora gladly took the child to her breast and looked down at him with all the love and affection she could muster. He was looking at her with his beautiful black eyes and she loved him more than anything in that moment.

Seri fussed over her a little before calling in more men to come get the birthing bucket. It would be thrown out deep in the Amber Sea for whatever wanted to eat it. Relora hardly noticed. She was so captivated by her new son and how perfect he was. She stroked his face and he yawned, making her smile. He was so tiny and perfect and she was already forgetting the pain he’d caused her. It seemed so meaningless now that he was in front of her now. Who cared that he’d caused her pain? He was here now and she would never let him go.

Eventually she slept and woke to the cries of those around her. At first she thought it was trouble but as she woke she heard that the voices were joyous. She turned and adjusted the shutter on the window. It overlooked the patio and the oasis. Outside it was pouring and nearly everyone was outside running in the rain. Next to her her son was woken by the commotion and he started to squirm a little. “Look little one,” she said and showed her son the outside. “It’s raining out. You were born on the first day of the Watch of Rain,” she smiled and stroked his bald head. He just whined and squirmed and she offered him her breast, left exposed for this very reason. She giggled when he immediatly latched on and started to suckle. She wiped at his mouth with her thumb when he sucked so hard he coughed a little back up. “It isn’t going anywhere,” she told him and her son was just looking up at her as he nursed. She stroked his face and laid back down tiredly dozing as the rain fell outside.

#writeblr #writblr #original fiction #original fantasy #original character #repostober #the fey alliance

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I decided to experiment with full gore. I started making it just for fun, but some stages of it I think are really quite effective.

When I was experimenting with different ways to build colour balance in the piece, I started by making the viscera into realistic colours, but then I turned the stained areas a bright blue. It reminds me of methylene blue, the substance that is used to dye samples on a microscope slide, giving it a clinical feeling. In my personal association, it seems like the scene is being examined either like a crime scene or like a medical sample.

I took the piece on to a full texture render, and I love how macabre it looks. I like the way it represents a character without actually making a specific character. It has a cold, clinical room, and the character is standing on the threshold, either looking in to the clinical room, or looking out into the seemingly endless horror. It creates a tension as the viewer is made to question what might be so horrifying in the simple white stall that they would consider braving the gore outside, or whether they possibly have something to do with the horror to begin with. Because of how private internal organs are, it seems almost like the horror has come from the character or other people who the character personally knows.

In a way, I associate this with my own experience with people entrusting me with aspects of their life. I tend to take people's issues well, and I am good at staying solid under the pressure of their issues, so a lot of friends and people I care for choose to confide in me, and they sometimes do bare the rawest parts of themselves to me, but for some people there comes a time when they no longer see me as a person, but more as just an empty figure who they can share their secrets with - or maybe I just start to see them as their secrets rather than themselves. I sincerely hope that I will never forget to see the person behind the figure, though sometimes I find myself looking into people's faces, and feeling like I'm only looking at them for the first time. People are not just the perfect figure, nor are they just the broken mess. People are complex and layered and incredible and I don't think I could ever truly understand everything about humanity. I want to be in a place where I can see and love whatever sides people show me.

Comments from other people also connected the small room with change rooms, and personal insecurity around body image. I can see that interpretation too. I like that all people seem to connect it with the different faces and insecurities that people choose to show the world.