#i feel like they focus WAY too much on appearance which is fairly minor in the scheme of writing

[pastafossa]

Hey I just wanted to ask a writer question. I really admire your writing and the amount of work and dedication you put into your stories and characters. You are one of my favourite authors ever. I have been wanting to get into writing and I was wondering how you flesh out your characters? For example you have a character that you’ve thought out, do you have a template that you fill in? Or just write a whole bunch of points about the character in a Google doc? I know that question might not make the most sense but I have a few characters that I’ve given quirks and backstories in my mind but I have no idea how to transfer them onto paper? Like Jane from TRT, is there just a big template or doc where you randomly put points into or some other type of organization? I know it’s not an easy thing to answer on text or even something you might not want to answer but even one sentence of advice is much appreciated :) Thank you so much for everything! I appreciate you. I will also put this into the ask thingy if you want to answer on there instead of PM 😁

I've managed to hammer this out in bits and pieces over the moments I've been more coherent so I think I'll make sense. First, thank you so, so, so much! I honestly love these characters so I'm always happy to hear someone likes it, even if I enjoy the work! 😭

Second - I do in fact have a template in doc form that I use to keep things organized! It's one I've been using since I took a novel writing course years ago by a published author, and in one particular class we went over character development, which is where I learned the template. The way I was taught (and the way I develop major characters) - first, even before filling in the template, I figure out their archetype(s). What story role are they filling? Who will they be a foil for? I like to think of those as your foundation, because every character is an archetype of some kind, and you can use that to build them up. To use Jane as an example, she's an antihero archetype, yes, but I've also pulled elements from: the Unscrupulous Hero, the Sympathetic Murderer, the Combat Pragmatist, and the Ineffectual Loner. Compared to Matt's hero archetype, she's the Lancer. Archetypes can help you if you're struggling to build up from the bottom.

Once I have the archetype, I start filling in the Major Character/Hero template, which roughly looks like this (if you don't fill it all right away, that's fine, because there's a step after this to fill it in the rest of the way). I like this one because I feel like it covers VERY important things that a lot of online character profiles skip, and has much less of a focus on looks (which I find way less important from a writing perspective):

Name: Age: Family History: Career: Physical Description: (include things like scars, notable or unusual features) Preferred Style of Clothing: (instead of listing brands, try to instead describe their style of clothing as it relates to their character - ex: Jane wears upper-end pantsuits in muted colors when meeting clients, because they carry a strong emphasis on professionalism; when hunting things down, she wears what is practical over anything to do with aesthetic) Goal: (every character should have one; what are they trying to do?) Motivation: (WHY do they want that goal?) Big Secret: (if it were Jane, it'd be what happened in Los Angeles; so what are they hiding? Keeping to themselves?) Self-image: (How do they see themselves? Are they confident and secure? Insecure and depressed?) Internal Conflict: (what are they struggling with?) Game: (What's some little game they enjoy?) Pet: (if applicable) Temptation: (what's aaaalways going to lure them in?) Vehicle: (if applicable; alternatively, how do they prefer to get around?) What makes them unique: (our fake post-apocalyptic character we made as a class had his teeth sharpened into points to scare people; Jane is often fidgeting with threads; just anything that stands out) How do they speak: (do they speak very precisely? Use lots of slang? Do they have an accent?) Quote: (What quote sums them up, or what quote do they relate to most? I have an entire folder of these for Jane tbh, and some for Ciro as well) Lesson Learned: (All characters should grow in some way, rather than stagnating. So how do they grow? What do they learn through the story?)

Now, this is something I was encouraged to do after the template, and also something I was already doing on my own. Once you have the template as finished as you feel comfortable with, you might feel like you need to develop the character a little further to fill in the rest, or solidify what you already have. The way you can do that? Write something short with this character. It doesn't have to be anything you need to post; it can be based on a short scene, based on a prompt, things like that. I like dumping them into: humorous scenarios, angsty scenarios, and Action Oriented (TM) scenes. Those really help you get into the meat of the character (aka: how they react to teasing/flirting/jokes; how they react to strong emotion; how they react in situations that might cause panic). Basically, it's your way of introducing yourself to them and becoming more comfortable writing them, because often a character might act a certain way in a cold, rigid template, but behave entirely differently once you drop them into a scene. Alternatively, you might get to writing and realize you need to make an adjustment so that they have better chemistry with the other characters. Writing a new character's a dance, and you're both going to step on each other's toes in the beginning, but once you learn how they move, it gets easier. And it helps them develop and grow as you learn about them!

#writing advice #writing #character templates #this is the template i've used for most of my major characters and i love it tbh #i've tried some other ones and they just don't work for me #i feel like they focus WAY too much on appearance which is fairly minor in the scheme of writing #and not enough on things like goals and motivations and who the character *is* #because that's our job as authors #we're here to show you who these characters are at their base level so you can watch them grow #we are here to dissect them so readers can see their squishy insides #or as the author who led the class said: 'your job as a writer is to cause pain and suffering' #and you can't DO that if you don't know the inner workings #so i've used her template constantly since then because it makes that easier #it also emphasises growth which is something i LOVE #because i hate when everyone just stays the same in a story #ok i think that's everything #been writing this up in bits and pieces over the past two week and was finally coherent for long enough to clean it up a bit #now to keep seeing if i can start write writing again

[edgeanescence]

alright so i know i already made that post detailing foreshadowing with larrys design. but i would also like to have a new post going more into character design of him just because i find myself obsessed once more

so to start, larry is designed to be clearly reminiscent of a businessman/salaryman/etc. obviously this choice is to go with the normal type theming for his gym, because whats more normal than a plain old office worker? in addition, working for the league seems to be fairly normal, given the abundance of suited npcs scattered around paldea. his eyes have lines under it, and combined with his general personality, serve to portray him as somewhat tired despite his dedication

however, he has a few details that play into his actual elite four status. first and foremost is the cloudy tie. its blue with white clouds, resembling the sky. hes got a string of buttons on his cuff that seem to be similar to a feather, and two triangle details in his lapels that give them a vague wing appearance. additionally, the flyaway hairs on his head, along with the black bit that wont quite stay flat, help to make it feel like hes standing in wind with the air blowing his hair about. these flyaways also seem to resemble grey hairs, as if larry started going grey due to the fact that hes always working so much for his color scheme, hes overwhelmingly using black in both his clothes and his actual hair/eye color. black is the ‘typical’ color one might think of for a suit, even if it is not the only color they can be. dark hair and eyes are also extremely common traits with people, falling on more prominent genes compared to something like light eyes or hair. it fits well with the everyman concept, making him blend in more as just some worker. black is a color of formality, yet also mystery and power, which fit well with the suit and the fact hes a member of the elite four. grey fits with his dress shirt and the flyaway hairs on his head. its far more minor in use, and seems to be a bit blue. greys a neutral color that can seem dull, slotting in once again with that ‘boring guy’ vibe. though because of the blue tinge, it helps keep his over all palette more cool and match better with the sky blue tie. blue can be seen as a more calm and collected color, and personality wise larry is definitely one of the less energetic characters in the game

for shape language, larry seems to be built with a focus on squares. squares are a dependable shape, but can come off rigid and boring depending on their use. they have a sense of stability and strength, yet also clumsiness because they can seem a bit unnatural at times. larry as a character seems to be reliable for his job in a more roundabout sense; hes dedicated to it, but hes not known as the best worker, according to his pregym encounter description. hes the normal gym leader, so using a shape that can be ‘boring’ works well. in addition, larry also seems to stumble over when he throws his pokeballs, before jumping back into a more rigid standing position. there is the use of a few triangles in the design too, which are used with his hair especially. triangles can be used to suggest movement, which with how the hair is shaped, checks out. the lapels and collar of his shirt serve to frame his tie, and the smaller darker triangles further serve to point it out. theres a bit of circles used to help soften his design, although not many. hes rigid with his schedule, but not entirely inflexible

now for a more fun analysis of the design, i feel like some aspects can relate to his pokemon, either in a more obvious or more abstract way.

first up is his hair. larrys bottom flyaway strands seem to be similarly shaped to braviarys lowest head feathers, while the top feel more flowy like altarias. the sides of his hair give me the impression of the sides of tropiuss head in terms of placement, but the general concept of hair in front of more hair is reminiscent of braviarys feather crown in front of the plumage. staraptor is the only pokemon to have a feather hang downward in the middle of the head, matching the lower middle strand of grey hair.

now to the suit. his tie with clouds easily connects to altaria, who has a cloud for wings. however i believe this can be further stretched to komalas rounded tufts of fur, given their color and shape. flamigo and komalas nose/beak could be behind the rounded shape of the suits buttons. the triangular bits on staraptors tail feathers could be referenced in the lapels on the suit. oricorios head feathers are set in threes and rounded, just like the feather detail on the suit sleeves. dudunsparce has a general rectangular theming to it, which fits well with the rectangular pockets adorning the suit.

in fact, dudunsparce also has rectangular eyes, which fits with larrys quite well. komala has thick eyebrows, and while not exactly in the same shape as larrys, id say they seem to be about the same thickness for the widest section

the shoes are probably more of a stretch, but the very top rounded bit reminds me of the front toes on tropius color scheme wise, the blue grey of komala seems awfully close to the blue grey used in larrys hair and shirt. the blue of the tie also seems to match up more with the altaria. but that would be going strictly off of concept art, as his in game model renders these shades far differently

its actually kind of insane just how much you can pull from a character who seems incredibly simple on the surface design wise. some of these points are likely to be stretching it just a bit, but im definitely sure that this man was designed with a lot of intent and purpose given his role in the game and how hes shown off

#pokemon #pkmn #gym leader larry #elite 4 larry #larry pokemon #pokemon larry #elite four larry #pokemon scarlet and violet #scarlet violet spoilers #pkmn scarlet and violet #sv #scarvi #scarvio #scvi #scarlet and violet spoilers #scarlet and violet #pkmn sv #pkmn scvi #pkmn scarvio #pkmn scarvi #pokemon sv #pokemon scarvi #pokemon scvi #pokemon scarvio #sv spoilers #scarvi spoilers #scarvio spoilers #scvi spoilers

[rebelyelll]

Chapter 7: Misfit On a Journey - Author's Notes

This chapter is where the pacing starts to slow down in comparison to the past 6 chapters. And I'll be upfront about this honestly: yes, it makes me worry. Because although, there needs to be some scenes/chapters where the pacing is reasonably slow to establish important details, I have this looming fear that readers will be like, "why does this story feel like it's slowing down?"

Well, sometimes it's necessary to have parts of a story that aren't paced quickly all the time. At least that's how I feel about it, or what I was thinking whilst writing it down. (I'm used to writing build-up and character growth, so please bear with me. I am not a prolific/professional writer.)

The Cast

Edguy appears in the warehouse the following morning after the Motorhead gang throws a mad rager one night. Where has he been? That's the question. I could explain it, though, I am trusting of readers to piece it all together eventually, so I won't spoil lol.

This guy. He's just so... so... sigh he's difficult as fuck to write. I don't know if that's obvious to readers or not, but it's very true for me. I know his personality, but for right now, his own personal motivation for joining Motorhead in the first place is a little unclear. I have hopes that this perplexity can be eradicated as I start to focus more on his backstory (which I happen to have an outline of in my head, but you know how writing characters goes. Something could change at some point lol.)

During Edguy's conception, the original plan was to make him a machiavellian that gets a thrill out of manipulating people to the point that they trust him. And that's when he weaves these deceitful situations only to screw them over and get what he wants with no remorse. Bear in mind, he is still this way. BUT! For the sake of not revealing too much just yet, I won't say any more about him.

Husselhoff and Tiny Dancer have made another appearance. It's at this point in Whiplash where we are supposed to assume they had no luck in catching Léon in Chapter 3. But I won't lie, part of me feels I could have SHOWN that they lost him, but at the time of writing chapter 3 I was doubting myself and thought the chapter was already long enough. Also, I didn't want to detract from the action taking place by switching to a scene that wouldn't feel relevant anyway, so I just left it. I trust that people that have read chapter 3 get the idea.

Geil comes across as this intimidating, mysterious guy whose facial and bodily features are mostly shrouded in darkness. (This will come to mean something later, so remember that.) He is just as vital to the main plot as Edguy. What begs the question is: why is Léon a prime target to Motorhead? And what is the reason he was framed by Edguy for the murder of innocent civilians? What the hell did he do to piss them off this badly? At least I'm hoping that's what people are asking themselves. If not, I am failing somewhere lol.

**This next section covers some minor spoilers. If you don't want to read those, feel free to skip ahead to the next section highlighted in red and gold.**

PATHGOD Clones

Edguy's stand ability was fairly simple to conceive, which worries me that it's too simplistic despite having tricks and twists to define it. Stands are admittedly one of my biggest weaknesses when it comes to writing a believable fight scene. I fear people expect me to create something deep and uniquely esoteric. Another problem that stems from this is: what if the stands I create are too simple that everyone writing a fanpart has used before? Which I feel a lot better now having accepted that it's just one of those things that generally happens all the time.

I won't say too much about what the stand's ability is COMPLETELY other than the doppelganger in chapter 6 had a different ability from Rebel Yell while still being faithful to it at the same time. To clarify: Both Rebel Yell and Red Jumpsuit Apparatus are chemical compound stands. Each just has a different method in how it works. For example: Léon's stand alters his form and things in a 10 meter radius to clay. But RJA alters its user's body into metal and produces immense heat capable of melting steel.

How this ties into PATHGOD'S ability is that it takes the element (such as: fire, wind, earth, and water) that matches the personality of the target and uses that against them in its own unique way. HOWEVER. this was not how I originally planned it to be. This was originally going to tie into stand evolution, and how these abilities tie into mirroring the target's stand's full potential. However, writing stand evolution into Whiplash just didn't feel like the right path to take, so I changed it to make it more interesting. And partially because I do NOT feel like stressing myself out with evolved stand abilities and how complex they are. I already have a hard enough time writing interesting stand abilities by themselves.

Post Cliffhanger

I really want to give Edguy more pov focus, but I'm not yet sure when I can do that. Probably once I'm finished writing Chapter 18 (which I am currently doing). Since some new threats are going to be established in Chapter 19 and 20. Those are going to be the turning point for the main characters, and things are going to get much more serious. Shit, I almost gave too much away. AAAAAAAA I just want to talk about the story!!!! But... can't. Don't want to ruin it. All you need to know is that more major villains will be springing up like daisies here in the near future, so I can't wait to see how readers will react to that!

References

The title of the chapter, Misfit On a Journey -- lyrics from a song called Ghost in the Moon by Avantasia. Such a gorgeous song which I feel is about someone who is gravely misunderstood by their peers and just wants to be accepted for all that they are. In a way, I feel like this fits Leon, but why I wanted this to be the title in a chapter that isn't focused on him is solely because I feel like the word "misfit" also represents Edguy to a certain degree. He isn't so much in a gang to feel a part of the scene, but for things that haven't been conveyed yet in Whiplash.

Edguy -- named after one of my all-time favorite German metal bands by the same name. (Just go listen to one of their two albums: Tinnitus Sanctus and Theater of Salvation. You'll see what I mean.)

Canneberge -- They are briefly mentioned and will make a grand appearance in Chapter 13. Their name is a reference to the Irish rock band, the Cranberries. Canneberge is just French for Cranberry.

Boulevard de Rêves Brisés -- this is a direct translation in French for Green Day's song, Boulevard of Broken Dreams.

There weren't very many references made in this chapter, but here they are! If you are just now reading these notes, and you want to get in on the fun, click HERE to read Whiplash Riot! New readers are very much always appreciated! Thanks!

#whiplash riot #author's notes #jjba fanfiction #writing community

[fonulyn]

I have an important question about fanfiction and fandoms in general. Why is it that when it comes to popular characters they get the most stories written about them? But the least popular characters who appeared in 1 game (piers, Jessica, and sheva) get the least amount of stories? Is it a fandom mentality to love the popular characters only and hate the ones that are hated and least liked? This always have bothered me.

honestly i don't think most people hate Piers or Sheva or others who are in only one game or movie. it's just that they don't love them quite as much as they do their favorites. and people tend to focus on their faves.

and like, Chris and Leon for example are everywhere, they're in multiple installments of the franchise so even if you miss one game or movie you'd still be familiar with them. if you miss re5 you wouldn't know who Sheva is beyond maybe seeing some pics. same with Piers and re6, or Helena and re6, or Jake and re6 lol, it's just easier to miss the ones who appear only once or twice as opposed to the ones who appear half the time.

personally Leon has been my fave ever since I played re4 almost two decades ago! but i only played other games in the series, or saw the movies, years and years later. in that time i wouldn't have even recognized anyone else! but i sure didn't hate them either. and there are a lot of more casual fans who don't really familiarize them with every installment and every character. and it's totally fine! i'm just trying to say that it's sort of logical that the ones appearing most get most of the love, too.

(do I wish Piers got much more love? of course :'D but I still think it's sorta logical he's not as big a fan favorite as some others who people are much more familiar with are)

of course fandom does play a role, too! if the fandom takes a minor character and starts hyping them up, it's easy for others to get sucked into it too! that definitely plays a part. people like to feel like they belong, and liking the same thing is a great way to bond, so of course people flock to the popular things fairly easily.

and from there we get to fanfic. i'm again gonna use myself as an example lol. I love Sheva. I think she's great. but have I written her? not even once. same with multiple other characters. but I'm just one person with limited time and limited energy, so I choose to use that to focus on my top faves. the ones who are the very closest to my heart. which is why lately Leon and Piers are the ones rotating in my brain almost solely.

so it does make sense that the most popular characters get most fic and most art. people want to focus on their very fave! i have no actual data to back this up but from empirically observing fandom, I'd say the vast majority of fanficcers and fanartists focus on maybe 2-4 of their top favorites and only occasionally venture out to the other characters, even if they do appreciate and value them, too.

of course it is discouraging when you happen to be the fan of a lesser known or liked character, and there just isn't much content of them. i know it sucks! been there done that so many times :'D but at the same time it's pretty logical too. the more fans a character has, the more content there is bound to be of them.

idk if my ramblings are in any way coherent lol i hope this answered your question at least somewhat.

#anonymous #ask and i shall answer #re answers

[rewiringwithpsilocybin]

DAY 40

Like yesterday, energy levels are running at full volume which suggests that the lull experienced a couple of days ago was temporary.

My overall resolve to tackle alcohol, overeating and procrastination, which suffered a minor slump during my back issue, has returned too.  

Meantime, the Microdosing Institute has sent me a link from a professional microdosing program in Peru on how to achieve lasting change. 

This is what they say: “Microdosing psychedelics is not taking a magic pill that will just make you feel better and keep bad things away. It’s understandable some microdosers would approach psychedelics this way since it’s how palliative pharmaceuticals work, and the instant magic sure feels like it’s there. Expanded states of consciousness work differently, though, and the real magic comes from the gained ability to learn and transform.”

Hmmmm . . . They use the word "magic" a lot!

To be fair though, I was hoping for the magic pill, but now it appears I’m going to have to work at it as well! 

Based on the “50 integration elements” which contribute to a successful microdosing program, the centre also provides a comprehensive flow chart (see above) which illustrates the system in clearer fashion. 

So, after sourcing the psilocybin and educating myself in section 0, I’ve been monitoring the effects and states in section 1. For section 2, I’ve been gaining insights as I endeavor to identify, analyze, understand, realize and confront any issues.

Onto Section 3. Taking action with measurable goals, tangible actions and measurable results - still work in progress. 

So far, I’ve been sticking to a fairly strict regime of exercising, meditation, writing, practicing music, working, developing some business-related proposals, learning some new skills and eating more healthily. 

My goals at the beginning were to reduce procrastination, overeating, alcohol consumption and smoking as well as gaining energy and provoking some creativity. Oh, and as my daughter reminded me - feeling more intelligent.

On the procrastination front then, the microdosing program has been “satisfactory”, as one of my old teachers used to say when you had aced a test. 

I’m especially happy with my resolve to write this blog on a daily basis. 

As I explained before, smoking operates hand in hand with alcohol, like Anthony and Cleopatra – kill the latter and the former commits suicide. 

I’ve transgressed around four times in the last 40 days. Much much better than my average score. 

The least successful has been the last one, overeating. And that's despite successfully completing a ten-day fast. 

This one seems to be the most deep seated. And therefore will probably require some professional help. 

One of my friends recently told me about her therapist who is also familiar with microdosing. A consultation seems like a sensible course of action.  

Moving on . . . Energy levels have been generally excellent. No complaints there.

Creativity? Needs more focus perhaps? Or "must try harder", the almost universal three-word summation of entire semester's work employed by lazy UK teachers in the 1970s. Seems like they could have used an injection of creativity as well.

#magic mushrooms #microdosing #mushrooms #self help #psilocybin #self improvement #terrence mckenna

[lilsocksiswriting]

Osamu(s)

Fandom: Haikyuu

Paring: Osamu X fem!reader X Future!Osamu 

Summary: On a stormy night, your boyfriend shows up at your door with his future self in two.

Warnings: No beta, Post time skip spoilers, minors DNI

Tags: dirty talk, masturbation, thigh fucking, voyeurism, overstimulation, crempires

Word Count: 4366

There was just something about tonight that made things feel amiss. it was smack dab in the middle of midterms week. Everyone was either studying, out at the bats drinking aways their dread, or like you trying to finish midterm papers. This makes the apartment complex you lived in quieter than usual which you don't mind at all. You can hear the heavy downpour of rain more clearly because of it too. You look up from the screen of your laptop to outside the window and at the street lamps below.  the rain dampens the street lights, limiting their reach,  and making them seem more like fairly glowing orbs. They add to the mysterious ambiance of the night.

A ding draws your attention back to your phone's screen has lit up with a banner of Osamu's name surrounded by grey hearts and stars

Osamu: babe?

Y/N: Hey bubs

Osamu: something weird happened

Y/N: Are you ok?

Osamu: yea. I was just getting in my head again.

Y/N: Oh no

Osamu: I know I'm sorry.

Y/N: you don't have to apologize. I'm not mad, it happens. I'm happy that you aren't keeping it to yourself this time.

Osamu: right, well as I was thinking was when the weird thing happened.

Y/N: and what is this weird thing?

Osamu: we're coming over

Y/N: what?

Osamu: is are coming over?

Y/N: what? Osamu what are you trying to say?

since Osamu only lived a floor above you in a studio apartment much like your own it didn't take long after his text for you to hear a knock on your door. When you open it you realize that 'is' wasn't a typo at all. 'is'  was Osamu's attempt at making a plural of I.

Standing in the doorway was the Osamu who knew and loved.  Board look slumped shoulders with hands stuffed in the pocket of the sweats he taken to wearing more often. Beside him was another man, more specifically another him. This Osamu was smirking in the same way Osamu still did from time to time, smug and relaxed, and stood a little straighter. Maybe even a little taller?  He dressed in black sort and jeans, like a uniform of some sort, that is close not his broads body.

"Well, aren't ya goin' to invite in sweetheart?" the other Osamu asks and you move aside.

When the door clicks shut it also clicks for you who exactly this Osamu is. who he has to be. You follow behind the present Osama down the small hallway that opens up into the rest of your apartment.  Older Osamu makes a b-line to your window to close the blinds while the other plops himself down on your couch making himself right at home leaning back and spreading his legs. if this was any other situation would have taken that as an open invitation to crawl onto his lap. Taking notice of the you-sized spot between his legs you also notice how the pair of sweats he wore were looking quite dingy. You wonder if he was heading into one of those weeks again where he barely slept, barely took care of himself, and stressed ate all your snacks. mid-terms week was definitely the kind of week where it would happen.

You give him that soft look but don't ask if he's been taking care of himself instead you ask, "He's for the future isn't he?"

Osamu nods seeming to not catch on the look or choosing to ignore it. "That's the weird thing that happened. He just sort of appeared."

The amazement that time travel existed and proof of that had now walk back over to stand in front of you right in front of you didn't cross your mind at first. What was crossing your mind was a series of questions.  It takes the rest of your body a minute to catch up to these racing questions and actually speak one out.

"We're still together right?"

Older Osamu's  laugh answers your question but he tells you anyway," I wouldn't be here if we weren't."

"And how exactly do we get you to from here back to where you belong, in the future."

"Tryin' to get rid of me already?" he cocks his head to the side teasing you. You look between present and future Osamu and find that neither seems bothered by the timeline consequences the older being here has. but hey guess that's anxiety for you.

"No, but why are you here? How are you here? How do we get you back so we don't fuck up the timeline?" you blurt out one question after the other to older Osamu and he just stands in front of you, thick arms crossing over his broad chest letting you get them all out.

The fact that neither of them seems to fully grasp the gravity of the situation infuriates you. "How are you two not freaking out about this?"

"Because one way or another he goes back after what happens tonight.”

you give the present version a questionable look. They definitely knew something that you didn't and weren't talking about it yet. "you two know something. What happens tonight?"

Instead of the present Osamu explaining, his older self tells you. "I don't really know how I get back but I do because he's still here," he points to himself," and I'm still for the future, a better version because of what happens tonight."

You don't miss the way his voice drops or how you notice him towering over you. You just try to focus on what they aren't telling you.

"What happens tonight?"  you repeat the question.

"I show my past self how much better he can be," The older Osamu explains but it still leaves out the answer you looking for.

The order Osamu goes on," You know I was at a pretty low point at this time in my life. I didn't think that I was ever goin' to amount to anything. I would always be a stick in my twin's shadow, I'd be the less attractive twin, I'd always be dealin' with some bad patch of acne or my clothes were never goin' fit right,  I'd always be sad like this. I never deserve you-"

"Ok," you cut him off. "Ok, I get it."

"He's not wrong ya know," you look over at the couch.

"I know... it's just hard to hear," you admit feeling guilty and ashamed for doing so. You want to be here for Osamu. You knew what he was going through since his twin got scouted for a pro team and you knew that you \ but that didn't make hearing how Osamu thought about himself anymore easy to hear. You were human. You loved Osamu. And sometimes it was hard to hear about problems of his that you didn't know how to make better.

"But that changes tonight. After tonight I get help, start seein’ a therapist.  I start plannin’ for a future instead of being convinced that I don’t have one. I start to rub the amazing relationship I have with you in my twin's face. I start to learn to stop hatin’ my body for changing," The order supplies.

you frown. "But what happens tonight?"

Older Osamu leaned in closer to you, very close. So close that you can feel his breath rolls off your skin as he tells you, "Tonight I show my younger self how good he's gonna  be able to fuck you in the near future ."

Well, damn. You weren’t expecting that. Mabey something a little closer to a heartfelt talk that would help Osamu out at this point of his life. This wasn’t to say that you were opposed to the idea. In fact, taking another look at the older version of your boyfriend, you were very ok with letting him rail you while the other watched. But someone about it felt wrong? More specifically it made you feel like it was something wrong.

The way the idea settles in your gut makes you turn your head slightly to look at the present version who’s still seated at the couch but sitting up a little straighter now.  Anxiously and hopefully waiting for your answer.

“Are you sure?”

He nods then adds, “But only if you want to.”

You very much want to, it’s just….” Would this even count as cheating or like being with someone else?”

The older Osamu chuckles putting his knuckles under your chin and guiding your face back to his. “Darlin’ we’re the same person.”

That seems to settle your nerves and you nod. “Ok then. Show us.”

A smile breaks out across the order’s face. His other arms loops around your waist pulling you fully into his broad frame. “That’s my girl.”

The older Osamu tastes just the same as the present. The only difference is that he’s a lot less shy about using his tongue. Hell, he’s a lot less shy about using his whole body, and you honestly love it. The more that older Osamu explores your mouth with his, the harder you can feel him getting in his pants. Pulled so tightly against him means that you can feel every little twitch his cock gives in reaction to every little noise you’re able to make. Eventually, you two have to pull away for air. Dizzy with lips swollen you rest your cheek against the order’s heaving chest and look at to the younger who is staring at you like he’s start stuck. It’s cute.

“See,” The older tells his younger self. “Look how dizzy you can make her when you aren’t second-guessing everything.”

If the older was going to be bold, then so were you. You smooth a hand down his stomach, past his belt buckle and grip and the budge below it.  All the while not taking your eyes off the present version of your boyfriend. This earns you a sharp intake of air from the older that comes out on a pleased exhale. “And don’t think for a minute that she doesn’t want all of you. Right darlin'? Look at you already tryin' to get at my cock.”

“You’re already hard.”

He nods. “And all for you.  All’ve ya done is be your pretty little self and I’m already achin’ for ya.”

You squeeze your thighs together. You love to be dotted on by Osamu. You had realized early on that you definitely had a praise kink but only when it came to Osamu.  With gentle hands, Osamu turns to the body so that you’re facing the present version.  A firm hold on your arms holds you in place as a hot mouth leaves sloppy kisses along your neck in just the right spots to keep you feeling light-headed. Those hands eventually move. Snaking up too to grope at your titis through your sweatshirt.  You go to squeeze your thighs together again, but suddenly there’s one less hand on your breast and a hand forcing your thighs apart.

“When she does that, squeeze her thighs together like that,  it means she’s getting riled up,” The older explains while pressing fingers into your clothes clit and rubbing at it causing you to squirm slightly. “Why don’t we show him how wet you are darlin’?”

You simply nod because you want to see too. You can feel how arousal that's collected between your folds, but you've never gotten wet so fast before. Osamu gives you a little kiss on the cheek and helps you slip out of your legging and underwear leaving you bare from the waist down.  You shiver both from your heated skin being exposed to the cool air of your apartment and the way that Osamu is staring from his spot on the couch/ The intensity of that look never fails to go straight to your groin.

One of older Osamu's hands dips between your spread thigh pushing through your folds. His fingers are a little rougher and that small difference feels so good. His fingers rub back and forth a few times, collecting your wetness as they go, before pulling them easy much to your dismay.

The older Osamu holds them up so that both you and his present self can see the strings of slick at connecting one digital to the other.

"Fuck," You both breathe.

Beyond the fingers, you can see Osamu relaxing into the couch and palming the crotch of his sweats

"'Samu, "You wine at both the older for him to touch you more and at the sight of the present touching himself.

"Aww,  you want me to keep touching you down there darlin'?" the older coos into your year.

"Please," You ask nicely not feeling the least bit ashamed since both you and the present Osamu seem to want exactly that.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head darlin',"  you feel warm hands slip up your sweatshirt.  "I'm gonna touch you plenty.  I can barely keep my hands off ya as is, but I wanna give my younger self a good view of how we make your body feel. So come off with the sweatshirt."

You do exactly as you told and strip out of your sweatshirt. You'd do anything to feel his fingers again. Osamu goes back to massaging your tits again, this time playfully rubbing your perk nippled between his fingers. Either Osamu wasn't telling you now you or at some point in the future, he loves playing with your boobs. You're only complaint was that he wasn't paying enough attention to the rest, more needing, parts of your body.

"Osamu, please~" you beg.

"See how easy it is to get her so needy?'

"Yea," the present Osamu nods his head stuffing a hand down his sweats.

"She just loves our touch that much. Right now if you were to ask she'd beg you to touch her, to fuck her, to do anything really, as long as it's us doing it,"  The older Osamu nudged your cheek with his nose making you crane your neck so that your lips are almost touching. " She's such a slutty little girl, " he says lower, "but she's our slutty girl, and we fucking love it."

Osamu's mouth is on yours again and there are fingers that aren't just rubbing your clit but now slipping inside. You moan into the older's mouth and buck your hips grinding against his hands.  You hear a low curse from the present Osamu.

"Well, shit you look like your dick's about to explode there. You're about to cum but you're trying to make it last because you can't last very long  after the first time can't ya."

A frustrated groan escapes the present Osamu's lips. He has the waistband of his sweats pulled down past his hips and his hand gripping the base of his flushed cock.  He looked just about as lost in pleasure as you but had retained some sense of himself to pay attention so that he can learn how to make you feel this good in the future.

"Don't fret though because you're going to be able to go for rounds. Y/N can barely keep up in the future. I usually leave her so fucked out by the end of the night, but I make sure to take good care of her. Treat her to a nice bath and some home-cooked food in bed after I wreck her cunt. "

"O-Osamu," the name tumbles out as your breath quickens, everything that hen man was doing and describing to his younger self was so fucking hot and heavenly sounding.

"Holy fuck."

"Right? See what you can do when you start the impossible is possible? " he then addresses you. "You want more darlin'?"

"Please~"

"holy fuck Y/N," the present Osamu moans slowly stroking  himself, "you sound so fucking good right now darlin'."

"That's what we love to hear," the older Osamu purrs. His hands leave your body but only for a moment to he unbuckles his pants and pull his dick free giving it a few pumps.  Then they're on you again, grabbing your hips and lifting you up just enough that you stand on your tippy-toes.

"Now I'm gonna need to you stay just like that and keep squeezing those pretty thighs together. Can ya do that for us, darlin'?"

when he uses that nickname in that pitch of voice? It was a power that the present Osamu didn't realize he had yet, and god helps you the day that he did because you would do just about anything when he say's 'darlin' like that. you nod your yea with a little 'yes' and you feel the older's hands move to a firm grip on your elbows.

When he roughly pulls you into him your eyes go wild. This was new. The older Osamu's thick cock slips in and out from between your thigh, each thrust making your whole body jolt.  Each time his hips meet the blunt head of his dick slips slang you slit and bumps against your slit making you see stars. All the while the present Osamu watches completely enthralled by the sight of his older self fucking your thighs. The way you titis are bouncing with every thrust, the way his older self is handing you like some treasured fuck toy, and those breathless moans you don't hold back, that's what he wants. He wants to be able to fuck you like that. He wants to be the only one to be able to make you feel the way you feeling right now. He just never thought he could until now. 

"Does it feel good darlin'?  The tip of my fat cock rubbing you like this?"

"y-yes!", answer as he paces quickens.

"Are you gonna cum like this? From me fucking your thighs while my younger self watches?"

you nod vigorously, the feeling of orgasm quickly building in your gut each time the tip of his dick meets your clit. You squeeze your thighs tighter your head lulls back when it finally washes over you.  

"Shit," Osamu curses in your ear as his hips sputter and he spills his cum between your thighs, "Shit, that's it darlin' keep squeezin' round me like that. Don't she look so cute?"

"You haven't even fucked her yet," the present Osamu comments making the older chuckles

"You ready to watch that?”

"God yes," Osamu breaths out looking so desperate to watch you get railed by his older self that it's downright adorable.

The older Osamu chuckles. He handles you like you don't weigh a thing to him lifting you up and laying you back down at the end of the bed. The way the couch is facing the present Osamu has a perfect side view of the two of you. You set yourself up on your elbows when the older steps away. He doesn't bother stripping, he simply pulled his tee-shirt over his head and pushed his jeans down a little more.

"Oh god," You moan because holy fuck you have never wanted Osamu as bad as you wanted him now. He stands to at the foot of your had hands on his hips and a lopsided smirk letting you admire him in what wasn't even his full glory.

This thing that really gets you is how much Osamu hasn't, or in this cane won't change. His body was mostly the same. There's some muscles mass you could see in his forearm, chest, and the way that he manhandles you. His tits are still nice and supple, just begging for you to leave hickies on, and a faint patch of hair grows along his sternum. Your eyes roam across his soft tummy that has the faintest outline of abs the closer you look. Following his thicker trail of hair below his navel leads to his erect cock standing tall and as proud as he is that’s glistening under the soft light in your wetness.

"See," he glances at his younger self and his voice softens. "She really does love us and our body. Every last bit of it. Even on the day when we don't."

He then turns back to you," Now are you ready for me to fuck you darlin'?"

"Yes," you answer and spread your legs that are dangling off the foot of your bed a little wider to accommodate him.

When Osamu pushes into you there's a familiar burn of yourself stretching around him. The older takes things slowly so that you feel every inch of him entering you. Once he's bottom out in you Osamu takes your legs and wraps that around his waist. 

Osamu's pace starts out slow and deep but doesn't stay this way for long. Soon your small apparent is filled with all sorts of lewd sounds. The loudest of which was the dull slaps of skin and squelching every time he thrusts back into you. They barely cover your breathless moans and high pitch whimpers. Both Osamu's are also being quite vocal. The present Osamu is cursing again as he bucks his hip and cums into his closed fist. Meanwhile, the older Osamu is grunting, jacking hammering into you.  You can barely keep up with the brutal pace the older's set. All that you can really do at this point is grab and claw at his shoulders for something to hang on to for dear life too.

"Oh fuck. Oh, fuck Dalrin' you're gonna make me cum. Yer just suckin' me in a like that- shit! cummin'! I'm cummin' Y/N," Osamu moans burying himself as deep as he can inside you and flooding you with his release. 

 Feeling yourself being filled with Osamu's cum pushes you over the edge.  Your walls flutters around his dick and thighs shake around his hips as you cum.

The order barely gives you time to catch your breath before he's calling for his younger self to switch places with him. The present Osamu is on his feet in an instant stripping out of his clothes on his way to you.  The other Osamu moves aside, setting down on the couch and relaxing his arms across the back of it.  He doesn't even bother to tuck his flaccid  cock back into his jeans or fix his shirt. He smiles at the scene before him.

Osamu is hunched over you so you can wrap your arms around his neck and pull him that much closer to you as he fucks you. Like his older self, the pace is fast and deep. You can try and buck your hips but they aren't in sync with his thrusts. The mess, the disorganized movements of the two of you make things hotter, more intense. You're cumming again with a pleasured sob and Osamu continues to fuck you through it reaching his own high.

And he doesn't stop. Your present boyfriend keeps his feet planted on the floor and keeps fucking into even when his cum is being to seep out of your stuffed hole. He pulls away just enough so that he can see your flushed and sweaty face that he cups in his hands. 

"One more yea"

your jaw trembles and the only words you can get out are incoherent so you nod. 

 A tired smile breaks out across his face. "That's my girl. Gonna make you f-feel so good. I'm going to make sure you always feel this good.  gonna stuff you so full of my cum~"

You cum right along with Osamu, letting out a silent scream to fucked to do anything else. You can feel his whole body shudder as he pulls out of you. You immediately feel a mixture of you, him, and maybe even his future self leak out of your spent cunt.  You feel him move you up the bed so that you can catch your breath while fully laying in your own bed with Osamu cuddled up next to you.

"Darlin'."

"Hmmm?" you hum eyes still closed.

"He's gone."

You peak an eye open and sure enough, the couch was empty now. You were too tired to really think about where the older Osamsua had gone but somewhere in your mind was the assumption that he went back to his own timeline in the future.

"Too tired and icky to care."

You feel fingers thread themself through you and massage your scalp. you lean into Osamu's touch and you're fully content to just lay here in the mess the two of them had made of you for the rest of the night.

"How about I run you a nice bath and we get cleaned up hmm? We can go back to my place and worry about your sheets tomorrow. "

"Will you cook for me?"

"Whatever ya want darlin'." 

 A few years down the road Osamu bursts into the apartment that you two share scaring the living hell out of you. "Fuck! Don't burst in like that."

"Sorry," he apologizes kicking off his shoes. "But it happened It finally happened."

"What happened?"

He strides over to the couch where you had been working on to laptop but set it aside and pulls you into his lap. He nuzzles his face into your neck and you can feel his wide smile on your skin. "That night during Junior year."

"We had lots of nights Junior.  Give me more than that." you request already thinking of your favorite nights spent with Osamu rather it was making an all-night drive just to watch the sunrise, nights where you went out in a group of friends and went home wearing his shoes or being carried on his back,  nights spent in eating his cooking, nights spent with his dick plugged into you...

"I made love to you while I watch."

"Ah that night," you smile, "The details are a little fuzzy, Mabey you can help job my memory after dinner with the team tonight?"

His arms tightened around your waist, "Oh, gladly darlin'."

more  my Haijyuu fics can be found here: Haikyuu collection

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #osamu miya #osamu x y/n #haikyuu osamu #osamu scenarios #privet stacks

[atopfourthwall]

Ive only recently gotten into classic Star Trek so I don't think I can properly answer but what is it specifically about Discovery and recent Star Trek that classic Trek fans hate?

Putting this behind a cut because... it's a lot.

Well, first of all a big rejection of it is just on an aesthetic level. Up until the 2009 movie (which was considered a reboot, even with time travel elements), Star Trek tried to treat the original series and how it was portrayed as pretty sacrosanct. Sure, they might occasionally make jokes about goofier aspects of it and discard some of the stupider stuff (like how in the final episode, penned by Gene Roddenberry himself, that women weren't allowed to Captain starships), but how TOS looked? That's how the 23rd century looked. Buttons and multi-colored outfits and boxy computers and smooth, undetailed ships WAS what was appropriate for the time. When Scotty came back in TNG, they had him on the holodeck and it was the TOS bridge. When DS9 traveled back in time to that era for an episode? They went onto the Enterprise and visited it. When in an Enterprise 2-parter we had a TOS-era ship? It looked like a TOS ship. They even did a 2-parter on Enterprise to explain why Klingons had smooth foreheads when later (and earlier) they didn't. Star Trek up until then cared about maintaining that continuity of appearance. But Discovery is set in the TOS era... but nothing looks like TOS. Even when we got the Enterprise and those uniforms and we saw inside the ship, it was an upgraded form. The only logic I've seen people try to argue about WHY it doesn't look like it actually did was "Well, audiences won't accept something as cheap as TOS being futuristic." Well, then you've got a few responses there: -Don't set in TOS era, then. -That's horseshit, because audiences from the 90s through the 2000s accepted it just fine. Even a piece of dialogue from DS9 explained it perfectly: "I LOVE 23rd century design." It LOOKS cheap, but it was just the aesthetics of the period. And the Enterprise 2-parter it still looked good in HD. Hell, arguably it looked BETTER in HD because they knew how to light it and create mood and its own unique flavor. -It's even more horseshit because people are STILL going back and watching it even today, as indicated by you saying you've started watching it, so clearly it's not that much of a barrier. But what's even more egregious is the TECHNOLOGY. You might be able to accept updated aesthetics if at least matches what was present during the period... and it doesn't. Holographic displays and communication (holodeck technology AT ALL, frankly - it's possible it was there, but TNG seemed pretty adamant that the holodecks were fairly new, very impressive technology), weapons not looking or acting like they traditionally did, Enterprise and Discovery having R2D2-style repair droids that certainly did not exist in TOS, the wrong sound effects being frequently employed, replicator technology for good-looking food instead of food dispensers that gave out marshmallows and cubes, and honestly the tech level shown in Discovery looks just as advanced - if not MORE advanced than seen on TNG 100 years later. And this is a minor thing, but despite the attempt to make the future LOOK futuristic, from a cultural perspective, the future looks... way too damn similar to now. The excessive swearing (it was said in particular in Star Trek 4 that while they certainly did cuss, it was less common and they sure as hell weren't dropping F-bombs), a party on Discovery that looked like a rave (when previously it seemed like the most popular music and culture of the 23rd/24th century was considered fairly high-brow entertainment [classical music, Shakespeare, great works of literature and plays, etc.] - and while you could certainly argue that that snootiness and love of that stuff is a problem with Star Trek and a sign of how sterile and homogenized it is, THAT is the future they presented and a character in Voyager loving some of the goofier parts of 20th century culture like jukeboxes and old sci-fi serials was considered unusual), and just the general way people talk betrays the idea that the writers aren't thinking about how society changes in the future. It's just the modern day, but with cooler technology. But hey, let's set aside the general aesthetics - some people aren't going to mind that and find

ways to handwave away a lot of stuff (even Discovery season 2 TRIED to handwave away stuff like the holographic communications, but did a piss-poor job of it). This brings us to the problem of the WRITING. And the problem with the writing is a big Michael Burnham-shaped indentation. To be clear, I don't mind Michael as a character or her actress - there are interesting aspects to her, centering a Star Trek show around the science officer is a neat idea (though that means you should probably NAME IT AFTER HER and not around the ship, because it suggests this is a standard ensemble group and not JUST her)... but the actual execution is that it feels like the entire universe bends over backwards for HER. She has a unique relationship with a beloved longtime character that is retconned in. She has unique relationships with several important characters to the point where the fate of billions of people hinges on her and the decisions she makes. She is presented as almost always correct about everything, and those that oppose her are often wrong, naïve, or active enemies. Now, this is less of an issue in the third season - but that has its own unique problems - but in the first season, the resolution of two major storylines (mirror universe and the Klingon war) revolves around her and her relationship to the Terran Emperor and Lorca. In season 2, her mother trying to help or save her is the basis of the ENTIRE friggin' plot with time travel and the like, with special knowledge and history having to do with her and everyone ready to abandon their lives for her so she won't be alone when she has to go to the future when arguably they barely know her (the timeline of the show is debatable). Season 3 has a few different problems with her - the first is that she keeps being involved in things that don't concern her (why is she going down to Trill?) and she keeps violating orders. Now, her violating orders is a problem throughout the entirety of Discovery - in fact, it's kind of the instigating factor OF the series. And arguably, other Star Trek characters are guilty of that and they face no consequences, just as she faces none... and yet it's the brazenness with which it happens, and in those other series it's arguable because the series tries to avoid excessive continuity changes for its episodic nature, so the status quo MUST return to normal... but Discovery is pivoted as one of MAJOR continuity, so her lack of consequences (and indeed eventual PROMOTION) is baffling to the point of frustration. Now again, let me be clear here - she is not a bad character in and of herself. Honestly what it shows is that being the science officer on a starship is not where her talents lie. She should be in a position where she has a lot more freedom to act and not in a major command structure... but being in that command structure, what we see in season 3 is that she lacks the discipline, emotional maturity, responsibility, leadership qualities, and general other traits necessary to be a Captain. Only once during season 3 did she display such a quality - putting the safety of the Federation above a friend and colleague... but other times she will happily disobey orders and put herself and others in harm's way, creating potential new problems. Now, again, Star Trek is rife with characters doing that... but usually not the Captains. And, in fact, when this happened once on DS9 with one officer disobeying orders and putting their own personal feelings above the greater responsibility, it was made VERY clear that the incident would mean that they would never be able to command a starship because of the unofficial reprimand. What's even more frustrating about her is that the character is ALWAYS shoved to the forefront so much to the point where we just get sick of her. SHE is the one giving log entries (usually pretty piss-poor ones, at that - very flowery and nonsensical and kind of dumb) and not the Captain. SHE is the one given so much focus and how the plot of the episode affects her. Barely anyone else gets any focus episodes - I STILL can't

remember the names of some of the secondary characters because they're so rarely said, and a PTSD-related plotline in season 3 for one of the secondary characters basically gets resolved OFF-SCREEN. Michael would be fine if we actually had a chance to miss her... but we never do. Arguably one of the best episodes of the show is in season 2, when it focuses on Saru and his people because Michael DOES take a back seat. It's his story and his development and problems relating to him and his people. And even if, again, we forgave the idea of so much focus on her even in plots that aren't about her... she never seems to really change that much. She'll TALK about how she's changed, but I see no real difference in the way she acts (MAYBE season 1 to 2, where in season 1 she was stiffer and more Vulcan-like, but that's it). But hey, let's assume that's not a problem for you - you really, REALLY like Michael and are fine with so much focus on her. Simply put, the writing of the rest of the show... is just kind of dumb. The ship is powered by magic mushrooms that let it teleport everywhere because the universe has super fungus capillaries throughout it that nobody can see and also it's magic and can resurrect the dead. The time travel plot of season 2 doesn't make any sense when you sit down and diagram it. Well-established Trek lore is just kind of sprinkled in, but now in ways that doesn't match what it was before or at least in ways that completely recolor how it's supposed to work, because it needs to serve THIS plot. Everyone remembering a murdererous monster fondly after she leaves because "Hey, she was coooool." The explanation for the big mystery in season 3 is just fricking stupid and one of the two big reasons why I've finally given up on Discovery, because it's just so absurd, doesn't match how anything works, and just feels like the writers giving the middle finger to the audience because they care more about "YOU MUST FEEEEEEL THINGS!" instead of it making sense. And indeed, there is certainly a balance to be made of plot vs. emotion-driven storytelling - some stories are dumb, but are forgivable because the character writing and emotion are so strong that they override how goofy the plot is... but sometimes a plot is just so dumb it overrides anything I'm SUPPOSED to feel. And it would help if I already liked the show, already gave it some benefit of the doubt... but I don't and it hasn't done enough to impress me. A little thing that's a problem with ALL of current modern Trek shows is that whole sprinkling lore thing - I don't think a single episode goes by in ANY current modern Trek series that doesn't have a random reference to classic Trek lore. A name, a line of dialogue, etc. It comes across like the creators don't trust you to enjoy it on its own merits, but want you to like it because "Hey, remember thing? We know about thing! Like us because we mentioned thing!" But hey, I recognize that these are things that other people may not have any problem with or just disagree in general. But for me and my family, these are the big ones that keep us from enjoying it. Hell, my brother and dad still watch it for hatewatching purposes, but I was done after season 3. I gave it plenty of chances to impress me, and while each season MARGINALLY got better as it went along, I'm tired of waiting to actually like it and to stop feeling like it thinks I'm a fucking idiot. If other people still like it, great - it clearly appeals to them in a way that it doesn't appeal to me and they are free to enjoy it. Other people probably have their own issues, but this long, rambly bit is the major stuff for me.

[mindareadsoots]

Elements and the Four Temperaments

For me, one of the biggest takeaways from the Elements miniseries was the way it used the four temperaments, and what it means for the various characters in the show. I touched on it here and there as we visited the various elementally charged locations in Ooo, but now that I’m through the series, this seemed like a good time to go in depth on the topic.

The Four Temperaments are a very old and long since outdated method of classifying personality types. The temperaments are Sanguine, Melancholic, Phlegmatic, and Choleric. Once upon a time, it was believe that these personalities were caused by an imbalance of the four classical elements, which is taken to a very literal extreme in the Adventure Time mini-series. 

Despite being long since discredited in favor of more nuanced classification systems, the four temperaments still show up a lot in fiction since they’re an easy way to sort out characters. It’s so pervasive that the Four-Temperament Ensemble page on TvTropes is extensive. So let’s get into how they’re used here:

Candy

The Candy Kingdom is characterized by a Sanguine attitude, taken to an extreme by becoming an outright manic enthusiasm for everything. In real life, the element tied to the sanguine personality type is air.

For the many background candy citizens, this isn’t much of a change, just an exaggeration of their existing personality. For the major supporting characters however, particularly Lemongrab and Fern, the transformation is kind of horrifying since they are very much Not That.

Even Princess Bubblegum herself is robbed of much of her character depth with only pure sugar fueling her personality. 

Ice

The Ice Kingdom is characterized by a Melancholic attitude, taken to an extreme by becoming pretty dang depressed. Ironically, melancholy is not associated with water in real life, but instead Earth.

We don’t get to see very many background characters here compared to the other kingdoms. The one character to get a major focus is Carroll, who doesn’t seem to have changed much, oddly enough.

Patience St Pim on the other hand undergoes a drastic change, and not for the better. Gone is much of the energy that she used to have. One of her defining characteristics in prior appearances was her constantly weird way of walking, and now she doesn’t walk at all. Instead she just glides around.

It’s unclear what happens to Patience at the end of the miniseries. She is last seen putting herself in a protective ice shell which may or may not have protected her from the LSP wave, and which may or may not open up any time soon.

Slime

Fittingly, the Slime Kingdom is defined by a Phlegmatic personality. This is also where the water element goes in the traditional temperament model. 

The Slime Kingdom ultimately proves to be Jake’s downfall as his already laid back personality gets amplified into complete passivity. Finn is ultimately forced to carry on the rest of the adventure without him after Jake succumbs to his baser urges. 

Fire

And finally, we visit the fiery tempered Fire Kingdom. As you probably guessed, the traditional element associated with the choleric personality is... fire.

Despite having the most drastic physical change, Flame Princess doesn’t have much of a personality change in her pure elemental form. Mostly we just get FP without the filter, much like she was back when she was first introduced.

This is also the kingdom that Finn is weak to, which is fairly unsurprising given his general personality. He’s always enjoyed fighting monsters, but it was always for a good reason, and the elemental magic just removed the need for that caveat. 

The most interesting minor character to appear here is Lady Rainicorn. Is her presence in the fire kingdom meant to be ironic, or does it indicate some hidden depths beneath her usually calm and motherly personality? Given what we know about her backstory, the latter is easy to believe, although it is still pretty funny seeing the whimsical unicorn recolored to look like Godzilla.

And that’s all of the elements present in the special.

Yup. Every one.

...

Lumpy

I’m... not quite sure what to do with this one. I feel like any analysis I have of LSP’s role in this story is tainted by the fact that she is by far my least favorite character in the series, but honestly that seems to be the point?

There is some technobabble about how LSP is from another dimension, and that’s why she’s immune to elemental magic, but when they break down the reasons why she’s immune, and when you take into account the VERY obvious subtext of the elements as personality types, it really just seems like LSP saves the day because she is a terrible person.

She’s too narcissistic to be in the slime kingdom, too much of a killjoy for the candy kingdom, and lacks the empathy needed to help Finn through the fire kingdom. This doesn’t even look like a metaphorical personality disorder. It looks like something that’s actually diagnosable, but I don’t feel qualified to do that.

And if that’s the case, then I don’t know what the message is supposed to be. What is the audience supposed to do with LSP? Are we supposed to be patient with her for being neuro-divergent coded? Does that excuse the genuinely terrible stuff she’s done? I really don’t know. It’s a quandary. 

#adventure time #elements #skyhooks II #minda watches adventure time #minda reads #at260 #binge blogging

[robininthelabyrinth]

First time submitting prompts, fairly new follower. Love your writing!

NHS and LWJ friendship. Subtle and maybe people other than their big brothers don't see it and it shocks people when they find out. Mostly Canon compliant?

Associates - Part 3 - ao3, pt 1, pt 2

In the end, it was Lan Wangji who went to get Wei Wuxian, rather than wait patiently for him to return of his own free will as he had originally intended.

It had been Nie Huaisang’s idea, after nearly a year of Wei Wuxian travelling – they’d never actually pursued the jealousy idea he’d initially suggested on account of it being a terrible idea, Lan Wangji’s temporary moment of insanity in even considering it aside. It had come up seemingly apropos of nothing, one day when the two of them were working together in Lan Wangji’s study, Lan Wangji filling out the paperwork in his graceful handwriting as Nie Huaisang flittered around solving problems – he preferred pacing as he thought, which perhaps explained his reluctance to work on documents despite his beautiful calligraphy, and all the marching around made him, in some moments, look remarkably like his elder brother, something Lan Wangji deliberately refrained from ever mentioning.

“You need to go pick him up,” Nie Huaisang had suddenly said, in between planning out the next discussion conference and explaining why a seemingly minor dispute regarding shifting the boundary line near the Yuncheng Bao sect by a single li could have catastrophic consequences for the Jin sect’s long-term stability. “I know you’re afraid of giving the impression that you’re trapping him and restraining his freedom, but that’s your problem, not his. He wants to be asked.”

“Does he?” Lan Wangji had asked, finishing the sentence he was on and putting down the brush. Some things took priority above night-fishing rights near a contained Waterborne Abyss, no matter the new head of the Laoling Qin sect might think.

“Mm, yes. He’s been taking a lot of night hunts in the immediate vicinity of Gusu, close but never too close…Lan Zhan, he’s hinting that he wants you to chase him.”

“Pride?”

“A bit, maybe? Mostly I think it was his position in Yunmeng Jiang, where the former Sect Leader Jiang wanted him and Madame Yu didn’t, so his status was always that slightest bit uncertain. Here and now, he wants to know that he’s really welcome…don’t give me that look! He knows he’s welcome, you’ve made that clear, but making you be the one to ask is just another way to ensure that it’s actually true.”

And so Lan Wangji had gone to where he’d heard that Wei Wuxian was night-hunting, flying down on Bichen when he saw him walking with Lil’ Apple along a mountain path – he called his name, and Wei Wuxian had turned and smiled…

Wei Wuxian had come back with him.

More than that – he’d kissed him, he’d said he was staying with him, he’d agreed to marry him, to live their life together from then on.

They were officially engaged now, the auspicious date having been selected, Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling having demanded roles on the side of the bride – Wei Wuxian briefly protested being the bride, then realized that he was marrying into the Lan sect and promptly reversed course, announcing that he wanted all the trappings of being a bride, excluding the dress – and life was very, very good.

Unfortunately, a couple of weeks was about as long as the cultivation world could hold off on needing its Chief Cultivator to be more than part time – he’d done a lot of the work in the mornings while Wei Wuxian was still asleep or when he was busy, and of course he had the system of delegation that Nie Huaisang had constructed for him and naturally Nie Huaisang himself helping out through his letters – and regretfully, Lan Wangji had had to return his full focus to his duties.

At first, it didn’t mark that much of a change: Wei Wuxian would bring projects of his own and they would work side by side, Lan Wangji already accustomed to the presence of another through all the work he’d done with Nie Huaisang, and Lan Wangji insisted that Wei Wuxian go out regularly with the juniors for night-hunts even if he himself could not. It all seemed fine, except only that Lan Wangji had the distinct feeling that he was missing something important.

It was only when the first big issue came up – a serious dispute between two small sects – that Lan Wangji realized what that was.

He sent a message to the Unclean Realm and waited.

Nie Huaisang arrived at the Cloud Recesses at the exact time one might expect if Nie Huaisang had received the message and left at once at top speed, accounting for the relatively slow pace he had when flying as a result of his mediocre cultivation.

Letter still crushed in his hand, he swept into the jingshi in his usual manner, all high drama and flash, wailing, “Lan Zhan! You betrayed me! You, of all people! My oldest friend!”

Lan Wangji, who had been expecting this, rolled his eyes.

Wei Wuxian, sitting in the desk he’d claimed as his own, looked up, startled. “Nie Huaisang?”

“Oh, hi, Wei Wuxian, congratulations on your engagement, has Lan Zhan shown you the present I sent? Probably not, he never does – Lan Zhan! Don’t think I’m letting you distract me with Wei Wuxian! You answer for this right away!”

He waved the crumbled letter at Lan Wangji.

“There is nothing to explain,” Lan Wangji said. “I requested your assistance in my capacity as Chief Cultivator.”

“You called me a spineless, gutless coward!”

Wei Wuxian made a choking sound.

“I sought to accurately characterize your recent behavior,” Lan Wangji said, and noted that Wei Wuxian’s choking noises got worse, although he did not actually appear to be in need of air. “Do you object?”

(There was something about Nie Huaisang’s company that reminded Lan Wangji irresistibly of being a child again, he had found, and it was only recently that he had begun to remember that as a child he had once had a tendency to bite. A pleasant rediscovery, even if the sharpness of his teeth were now expressed via paper and ink rather than through physical attacks.)

“You were the one who took a month off,” Nie Huaisang complained, a blatant lie given that Lan Wangji had been on partial duty for no more than two weeks, but dropped into his usual place at Lan Wangji’s side obediently enough. “Lan Zhaaaaaaan, don’t make me do work –”

Lan Wangji was going to say something about how it wasn’t like Nie Huaisang was doing any less work by doing his part in the Unclean Realm rather than being physically present in Gusu for consultations, he was just doing it less efficiently, but that was when Wei Wuxian coughed into his hand.

“Sect Leader Nie,” he said, with too much formality, but Nie Huaisang waved his hands at him querulously, clearly disapproving, and his shoulders relaxed a little. “Ah – Nie Huaisang. Since when do you call Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan? I thought you called him Lan-er-gongzi?”

“Oh, no, it’s been Lan Zhan since I was – what, seven or so?” Nie Huaisang said. “I wasn’t joking about him being my oldest friend, you know. We were just fighting back then, when you came for the lectures.”

Wei Wuxian blinked rapidly and turned to look at Lan Wangji, who nodded in confirmation.

They’d failed each other rather thoroughly back then, neither one being there for the other when they could have been. Nie Huaisang had not been wrong to observed that simply because he had always been free and open with his affections, Lan Wangji had assumed they would always be there to be resumed at a later time, without any need for maintenance – playing hot and cold, offering and receiving comfort and support at certain times, totally distant at others…it wasn’t until much later, when Lan Wangji emerged from seclusion, that he had needed Nie Huaisang again, and realized what he’d lost in the blank and disinterested glance of the boy he’d once thought of as his friend, who now seemed to visit the Cloud Recesses only in search of his elder brother.

They’d spoken in those intervening years, but it had always been light, superficial. Lan Wangji could have reached out a hand at that time, sought to resume their relationship, but he was consumed with his own grief, his own troubles, and out of respect for the face of his sect he had refused to share them; perhaps if he had, Nie Huaisang wouldn’t have done what he had done, would have relied upon him instead.

Perhaps things would have been very different.

It wasn’t until he’d finally swallowed his pride to ask Nie Huaisang for help with the overwhelming work of being Lan sect leader and Chief Cultivator both that they had broken through that distance once more. It had been difficult at first, readjusting their long-lost patterns to their adult behaviors, but they had slowly but surely fallen into a comfortable dynamic that suited them both.

“I had no idea,” Wei Wuxian said blankly. “You spend much time together?”

“Nie-xiong assists me in my duties,” Lan Wangji interjected before Nie Huaisang could spout something stupid about eloping, as he was sometimes wont to do. “He has been critical in ensuring that I am not overwhelmed.”

Wei Wuxian mouthed ‘Nie-xiong’, but what he said was, “You, Lan Zhan? Overwhelmed?”

Lan Wangji nodded. “My brother went into seclusion,” he explained. “As sect heir, I became responsible for the duties of sect leader of the Lan sect, and I had also accepted the post of Chief Cultivator.”

“And he didn’t have anyone else to help, so he came to me,” Nie Huaisang said cheerfully, ignoring how Wei Wuxian’s eye twitched. “I hope you don’t mind. It was very convenient a trade: I know plenty of things about being a sect leader – more than you’d think, I swear! – and Lan Wangji, as Chief Cultivator, can help me whenever someone tries to make something out of that awful business last year.”

There had been a few unfortunate sequelae to those events. Nie Huaisang’s role had never been officially confirmed, but somehow word had gotten out regardless and sects throughout the cultivation world were looking at Nie Huaisang in suspicion – less out of concern for Jin Guangyao, although there were a few that had especially benefited from his rule that were disappointed, than with an eye towards the future. The wise ones were afraid of his patience and planning, but far more were simply greedy, looking for a chance to finally uproot the notorious Headshaker now that his best protection, his brother’s two sworn brothers, were not there to defend him.

As he had promised, Lan Wangji had defied any attempts by others to do anything of that sort.

As he had promised, he would not change his mind or withdraw his support, no matter what Wei Wuxian said.

His shoulders tensed as Wei Wuxian looked over at him, his expression thoughtful. “I’m going to need to talk to Jiang Cheng,” he remarked, seemingly unrelatedly, and then said, “Well, I trust Lan Zhan’s judgment.”

Nie Huaisang had covered his face with his fan and was looking over it at Wei Wuxian. “You do? And here I thought you didn’t associate with evil…”

“Those are from Lan Zhan’s sect rules, not mine,” Wei Wuxian declared. “If he doesn’t judge you to be evil, who am I to say otherwise?”

Nie Huaisang smiled.

“We should talk more, sometime,” Wei Wuxian continued. “And hey, Nie-xiong, I don’t know if you still collect those books –”

“Oh, of course, Wei-xiong!” Nie Huaisang said enthusiastically. “Though you don’t need to ask for them from me. Lan Zhan’s built up quite a collection over the years.”

Lan Wangji sighed, even as Wei Wuxian spun to look at him with a predatory look in his eyes, not unlike a sighthound that had just fixed on its prey. “You do?”

“Nie-xiong has gifted me with many art pieces over the years,” Lan Wangji admitted. His ears felt as though they were on fire; they were undoubtedly red. “You may peruse them at your leisure.”

“At our leisure,” Wei Wuxian murmured, his eyes deeply intent. “I can’t wait to see what spring books you like best, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji averted his eyes, feeling hot.

Nie Huaisang giggled and snapped his fan shut. “You don’t want to see the art I sent, Wei-xiong, trust me,” he cackled. “You want to see the pieces. Just ask!”

Wei Wuxian grinned and shook his head. “I think that’s a private discussion! Anyway, I’m going to go talk to Jiang Cheng – you two work on your Chief Cultivator stuff.”

“Your insight would be welcome,” Lan Wangji said, but Wei Wuxian waved a casual hand.

“Later, later,” he said breezily. “I don’t know either of those sects, I couldn’t possibly say anything intelligent – maybe next time you have a question. I look forward to working with you, Nie-xiong.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Lan Wangji watched them smile at each other – still a little wary, but both clearly willing to attempt a renewal of their own friendship, even after everything – and his heart felt light.

The only thing, he reflected, that would make this perfect would be if Lan Xichen came out of seclusion.

But with Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian, and Nie Huaisang on the job, they’d be sure to figure out a way to do that soon enough.

He was sure of it.

#mdzs #lan wangji #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #my fic #my fics #associates #associates was actually supposed to be a one shot fic but then I saw this prompt after writing the first one and felt the need to continue #and here we are #ivydragon

[onecanonlife]

In which Tommy travels back in time and tries to prevent a nightmare from happening to everyone he knows. Everyone else, meanwhile, is highly concerned.

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

(first part) (previous part) (next part)

(word count: 3,960)

--------------------

Part Ten: Wilbur II

Wilbur wakes the morning of the election as President of L’Manberg, and he ends the evening of the election as President of L’Manberg, voted back into office by due democratic process.

There are things in between, of course. He reads out the results for all the SMP members to hear, as well as for those who have been following the event from different servers. He makes a speech, promises protection and safety for his citizens, promises renewed growth and prosperity and above all else, freedom from tyranny. He makes a good case for it all, he’s fairly sure, though he forgets the words that he speaks as soon as he leaves his podium.

There’s a bit of a celebration, after. Impromptu, unplanned, but those are the best kind. They all pitch in, scrounge up food and drink and games to play for when they get a bit tipsy, and it’s good.

He smiles through it.

He smiles when Tubbo claps him on the back, hooting and hollering. He smiles when Niki runs up to him and throws her arms around him in an embrace, even though she was running against him. He smiles when Eret sidles up to him, murmuring congratulations and briefly pressing his hand. He even smiles when a few citizens of the Greater SMP come to join in, Sapnap and Punz and Ponk and Karl. He smiles and smiles and smiles, and why shouldn’t he smile?

This is what he wanted. To know that his people continue to have faith in him, that they still believe him best for the job. To hold on to power, but to do it the right way. To be given full permission to assure the safety and freedom of those he loves, and the land that he has made.

The smile only slips twice.

Once: meeting Fundy’s eyes across the way. Fundy breaks his gaze just as quickly, glancing to the side, and he doesn’t come to speak with him. He’s not sure what to do about that. He’s not so blind as to not notice the tension that’s sprung into place between them lately, though he still can’t ascertain its origin. And it’s only gotten worse now, of course—but what did Fundy expect, that he would just let him commit voter fraud? He’s disappointed in his actions, and he can’t disguise that. Shouldn’t have to disguise that, because Fundy ought to know that wasn’t the right thing to do. But that means that his son steers clear of him. And he’ll admit that it hurts. Both for that, and for the fact that Fundy would do such a thing in the first place.

So the smile slips, when no one is looking.

But that is once, and twice comes now: Tommy bounding up to him, grin bright and wild, eyes shining with a light that he hasn’t seen there in—too long. Far, far too long. That light has been present all day, ever since he stepped up to the podium and announced the results, and Tommy let out a whoop and a holler and pumped his fist into the air like he was trying to punch the daylight from the sky, and it was so very Tommy that in that moment, he could feel nothing but relief. In general, Tommy’s seemed very relaxed. Celebratory, jubilant. As he should be.

And now, here he is, beaming, staring him in the face, gripping his arms. Eyes shining.

“How we feeling, big man?” he asks, loud and carefree, and it’s obvious from the way that he asks that he expects a certain kind of answer. Wilbur is more than happy to give it to him. He reaches out to ruffle his hair, and Tommy ducks away, but even that scowl doesn’t last for long.

“I’m on top of the world,” he says, and feels his own smile widen. For the first time in a while, he can look at Tommy and not feel pressing worry, not feel a tightness in his chest and a certainty in his bones that something is very, very wrong, that something has happened, and that in some way, he has failed. “We fucking did it, man.”

“We sure fucking did!” Tommy crows. “You and me, best fucking—best fucking day ever. We’re gonna make sure that L’Manberg’s the best country in the literal history of everything. And you’ll be the best president.”

“Of course I will,” he says. “That’s why they’ve elected me.”

Tommy nods sagely. Still grinning. Still bright-eyed. “It’s all going to be alright,” he says, voice lowering just a little. He sounds so very sincere. “Everything’s actually gonna be alright. You’re gonna do so great. You’re gonna do great, right?”

Of course he will. He will not settle for anything less. This duty has been entrusted to him once again, and he will not let his city fail, nor his people fall. He is the one they look to. He built this nation, and he must protect it. He will be great. He has more than just his own hopes riding on his back, and anything less than greatness is unacceptable, both for his own sake and for that of everyone else, for his own legacy and for the seeds planted in the present.

“We’re gonna do great,” he says. “You and I, and all of us.”

“Hell yeah,” Tommy says, and glances around him, at the celebration, still under full swing. Quackity has somehow obtained a stripper pole, and both Karl and Sapnap are looking on in great interest as he displays his talents in that area. Wilbur finds himself watching for a moment too long before tearing his gaze away. But Tommy doesn’t pay mind to any of that—which is good, because he is a child, a little baby man, and maybe he should go over to Quackity and talk about him toning it down, actually, while the minors are here—and instead brings his focus back around to him again.

“They all love you man, y’know?” Tommy says, voice going softer still. He finds his own expression gentling to match.

“They love this,” he agrees. “They love L’Manberg.”

“Because what’s not to love?” Tommy says, nodding in satisfaction. “Really, though, man. You’re gonna be alright. You’re gonna do great. No reason to worry about anything, y’know?”

“Okay, that’s a little concerning, coming from you,” he says. “Are there any shenanigans I should know about?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Tommy says, swatting at his arm. “I’m gonna go find where Tubbo got off to. But just, have a good night, yeah, Wil? You’ve really earned it. Future’s looking up.”

“I will,” he says. “And you too, Tommy, you’ve earned this just as much as I have. Maybe even more. Go have fun.” He pauses. “And if there do happen to be any shenanigans, let me know, would you? It’s been a while since I took part in any good old-fashioned shenanigans.”

Tommy casts him one last grin, brilliant as any sunrise he’s seen. And then, he’s off, weaving through everyone else. It’s good, that he’s happy. It’s been so long since he’s seemed truly happy. It gives Wilbur hope. Whatever damage was done to him that night, when he chose to give up his discs, maybe he really will bounce back. And he’s noticed that he and Tubbo have been closer again, so maybe that will help, too. Tommy will be okay.

Then, a wave of exhaustion hits him, apparently out of nowhere, and his smile slips.

He brings it up again in the next moment. But the fatigue remains—and he supposes it makes sense. It’s been a long, rather stressful day. Perhaps it’s time he turned it in.

Niki’s the first one he finds, and she smiles at his approach. There is still an air of tension about her—lingering frustration, he imagines, at the stunt Fundy tried to pull. He believes her when she says she was unaware. But she doesn’t seem to have any qualms about him, thank goodness, because he bears her no ill will for the incident. Or even Fundy—he is disappointed to be sure, but he doesn’t love his son any less. Nothing at all could make that happen. Perhaps he ought to make sure Fundy knows that.

Later, though. When they’ve both cooled down a bit.

“Hey, Wil,” she says. “Good party, huh?”

“It is,” he says. “I’m sort of beat, though, so I think I might go hit the hay, as it were. Just wanted to tell someone before I left, in case anyone wondered.”

“Okay,” she says, and her eyes pinch around the edges a little bit. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

She nods. “It’s been a long day,” she says, echoing his thoughts. “I’ll let everyone know, if they ask.” Her smile returns, full force, and she steps forward and takes his hand in hers. “Really, though, congratulations. I’m really proud of you. Anyone can see how much you care about this place, and that’s why they want you to keep leading it.”

His mouth has, unaccountably, gone slightly dry. “I do care,” he says. “But we all do. I mean, you literally made our flag. I don’t think I’ve told you enough how cool that is.”

“I wanted to,” she says simply, though she’s obviously pleased. “You don’t have to thank me for it. Every country should have a flag.”

“And every country should have someone who cares enough to sew it,” he says. “I’m glad it was you.”

“And I’m glad that this is you,” Niki replies, making a gesture toward the festivities around them, and the empty stage over to the side. Her eyes sharpen. “Even if I kind of wanted to be vice president. But you’re a good leader, Wilbur, and you’re a good man. A good friend. You deserve this. So go get some sleep, alright? Make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, saluting, and she rolls her eyes, pushing him away.

“Go on,” she insists, but there is laughter in her voice and a crinkle at the corners of her eyes, and she looks happy, too. Everyone looks very happy. Even Fundy seems to be involved in things by now, and Quackity, his fiercest competition, appears to be enjoying himself.

Everyone is happy. So is he. There’s no reason at all for him not to be.

He tells himself that he’s going to go get some sleep, but his feet take him back to his office, instead. It’s empty, cast in a dim haze until he switches on the light, and just like that, the darkness is gone. His eyes flit across his desk, his chair, his shelves, all the paperwork that he’s definitely going to have to deal with, now that he knows for sure that he will continue to lead. He also has a potted plant, though he can’t quite recall who gave it to him. Might have been Tubbo, but he’s not sure.

He doesn’t sit. He goes to the window, presses himself up against it close enough to see the outside rather than his own reflection in the glass. Torchlight flickers, illuminating the country before him, and the walls are looming giants in the deepening night. He can see the cluster of lights where the others are, too, and he can see their dancing shadows, glimpses of their faces, far away echoes of their laughter.

Maybe he ought to go back. Some part of him wants to. He’s not sure why he’s holding himself away.

It’s probably because he’s tired. Because he is. Tired. Very tired.

It has been a long day.

He watches for a moment longer, and then closes his curtains, shutting out the world beyond this room. He turns to his desk, then, and his paperwork, though he’s loath to actually work on anything tonight, despite the fact that there’s a million things he could be doing. Drafting a formal missive to Dream, for instance, in light of his official election to power. Ensuring continued good standings between their nations—because as little as he likes the man, he’s not going to provoke him again, if it can be helped.

Especially not with Tommy—the way that he is. Not until he’s gotten to the bottom of that, and probably not even after.

So, he should write to Dream. He should also write to Phil. Tell him about what’s been going on. He’s been considering asking for advice on the whole Tommy situation, actually—Phil’s old as balls, so maybe he might know what to do, or even what this could be about. It’s a long shot, of course, but it’s worth a try.

Except he doesn’t particularly want to do either of those things. Not at the moment. But then, that doesn’t leave him with a whole lot of options, so why did he come here in the first place if he didn’t intend to do something? He ought to go to bed, like he said he would.

But then—

“Hey, Wilbur,” Quackity says, and he looks up, blinking. Quackity’s leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. Somewhere along the line, he’s regained his clothes. “Knock, knock.”

“Quackity,” he says. “Good to see you. Here, come in, pull up a chair.”

Quackity quirks a brow, but that seems to be all the invitation he needs. He all but saunters in, grabbing one of the chairs and tugging it right up against the desk.

“I actually did want to speak with you at some point,” he continues.

“Then this works out, doesn’t it?” Quackity says. “I had the same idea. I figured we should clear the air or something like that. If it even needs clearing, I dunno. What do you think?”

“It certainly can’t hurt to talk,” he agrees.

“Right,” Quackity says. “Well, I guess I should start off by saying good job. Congrats on winning.” He smiles, and there’s something sharp in it, something of a challenge. Wilbur can’t say that he hates it; it’s good to be challenged, every now and then. And now, there’s less danger in it, his position secure. “Though I really gave you a run for your money, didn’t I? And Jack, of course.”

Jack’s name is added as an afterthought. He’s always had the impression that Quackity would rather have picked someone else for his running mate. But he left it fairly late, and by the time he decided that he definitely wanted one, there weren’t many people left to choose from. Tubbo wouldn’t have joined him, and Eret stayed out of the whole affair, and in terms of L’Manberg citizens, that pretty much just left Jack Manifold.

He wonders who Quackity would have chosen, if he’d had free reign of the SMP. Somehow, he’s glad that didn’t happen. Good foresight, on Tommy’s part, to add that restriction. And a good idea in general, too.

“You did,” he says with a nod. “It was a good showing. You were the one I was worried about, to be honest with you. If anyone could have beaten me, it would have been you.”

“You’re damn right,” Quackity answers. “We got close. But no cigar, I guess. There’s always next time.”

Next time. Next time.

Right. Elections are a fairly regular thing. He’ll have to do this again.

Right, no, that’s—fine. It’s fine. And it wouldn’t be for a while yet, so he doesn’t even have to think about it right now.

“But I just wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings between us,” Quackity says. He leans back in his chair, tipping it so that only two legs rest on the floor, and he regards him. “I mean, I meant what I said on the campaign trail, and I still stand by it. I don’t know that you’re taking this country in the best direction, Wilbur. I don’t know that it’s not gonna—stagnate, under you, or that Dream won’t come up and declare war again. I meant all of that. But it’s not like I don’t like you as a person, and you’ve won fair and square, so I was hoping we could put our differences behind us. Let bygones be bygones and all that.”

He’s heard everything that Quackity has to say on the matter of his leadership, and hearing it all again is a bit—irritating. But the honesty is refreshing, was then and still is now, and he’d rather these things be said to his face than whispered behind his back.

And also, there’s the fact that it’s Quackity. It was Tommy who convinced him to let him join in the first place, but the man’s grown on him, he’ll confess.

“I would have trusted you to lead,” he admits, and meets Quackity’s gaze squarely. “I disagree with you on quite a few matters, but I believe that you have L’Manberg’s best interests at heart. So as far as I’m concerned, it’s all water under the bridge.”

He speaks nothing but the truth. Quackity is—not precisely the vision he has in mind for L’Manberg’s future. But he cares about this place, that much is obvious. So if Quackity had won, he would have bowed out gracefully, would have established himself some property and entered a graceful retirement, at—at peace. Surely at peace, all of his questions answered and his guidance unneeded. His person no longer required.

His stomach turns, a gut-churning combination of longing and revulsion flooding him, impacting him so intensely that it’s a half-second scramble to make sure that none of it shows on his face, to lock everything back down again, to be interpreted later or forgotten about, depending on his mood.

“That’s great to hear,” Quackity says. “Friends?”

Quackity sticks out his hand.

“Friends,” he agrees, and takes it.

“Fantastic,” Quackity says. “I guess that’s all I wanted to say. I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.” He gestures broadly, lips twitching upward. “Niki said you were gonna get some sleep, so I’d do that before she finds out you’re not.”

He can’t help but laugh, and Quackity stands. “I’ll take that under consideration,” he says. “Good night, Quackity.”

“Night, Wilbur,” Quackity says, and turns to go. But then, he stops in the doorway, looking back. “I just gotta ask, though, why all of this? Why have an election at all? Why risk losing? If you wanted to stay in charge, why not just stay in charge? No one would’ve questioned you, but instead, you put on all of this. Just to keep a position you ended up keeping anyway.”

Ah. His mind blanks for a moment, because he doesn’t know how to describe to Quackity the fact that people were already questioning him, if he didn’t pick up on that. But surely, he must have; Quackity himself built his entire campaign around questioning him. His right to lead, his capability, his intentions. And those sentiments could not have come from nowhere.

To be honest, he’s not certain that he has the words to explain it to himself, either.

“I could ask the same of you,” he says, “in regards to your running.”

Quackity stands there for a moment. And then tilts his head.

“I think we both know the answer to that, Wilbur,” he says, and his next smile is a wry thing. “See you tomorrow.”

And then, he’s gone.

And Wilbur does know.

He is not blind to Quackity’s desire for power. His desire to do something good with it, to be sure—he’s never caught any malice in his seeking. But what he seeks is power, and there is no mistaking that. Sometimes, Wilbur looks in his eyes and sees a reflection of himself. Paler, different, slanted, but a reflection nonetheless. He has heard the siren’s call of ambition and heard it well, and he recognizes that in Quackity, and Quackity recognizes it in him.

But it’s not just about power. Not for him, anyway. Or rather, it is power, to be sure, but it’s the power to keep safe. To protect. To be free. And to build something great, something that will outlive him, something that will make him worthy of the looks in people’s eyes when they meet his. That’s what it was about. And that’s why the election mattered.

Though for a moment, he lets himself picture it: retirement. A house, with plenty of room. Time to spare, for everyone and everything. A guitar, finally tuned again. A warm summer’s day, and a crisp autumn’s evening. No pressure, few responsibilities, and an hour or several to sit under his own vine and fig tree.

But he doesn’t think he’s made for things like that, really.

And even besides, these idle speculations don’t matter. Quackity didn’t win, and he remains president of this nation. There will be no quiet retirement, not yet. There is so much work that he has to do, and he can feel all those future tasks piling on his shoulders, weights stacking on his skin, clinging like barnacles on a weathered, abandoned pier.

And it’s all alright, because it’s what he wants.

Without this, where would he stand? With himself, and with the others? They all look to him for a reason, so what would happen if that reason were gone?

No. Best not to let his mind wander down that path.

His ambitions are realized. The elections are over. His people are happy, and they still want him. They still believe he can do right by them. They are celebrating his victory even now. Tommy was smiling, and there was none of that strange, terrifying darkness in his gaze.

He has everything he wants.

He checks his communicator, idly. There’s a few messages from people on the server, those who aren’t at the party. Most are congratulatory. There’s Dream, asking for a meeting already, but he anticipated that. There’s even a few messages from people off-world, and he raises an eyebrow at those—inter-server communication costs a pretty penny, so he’s a bit surprised that Technoblade put the effort in to send a message that just says lame. Or maybe he shouldn’t be surprised at all. And Schlatt’s sent him some snarky congratulations, and he supposes he should answer him, since he went through the trouble. Though he’s not going to invite him, still, no matter how nice it might be to catch up. Not until he figures out what Tommy’s problem with him is, and whether it’s solvable.

But he types out a response to both, a quick Like you can talk, Potato Man to Techno and something a bit longer and properly sarcastic to Schlatt, wincing at the cost of shooting the messages through the void, across worlds, and then sets his communicator to the side. Stares at his desk, then at the covered window. He can still hear them.

He stopped smiling at some point. He doesn’t know when.

He picks up his pen, then sets it back down again. Drags a paper closer with his index finger, and then pushes it back. Slips his hand into his pocket to find his glasses, and then brings it out again, empty of everything but dust.

There’s work to do, and he should either get started or he should go to sleep, but his brain doesn’t seem to want to get the memo. So he sits.

He’s tired. That’s why he’s in this kind of mood. He’s tired, so he’ll just sit here until he feels ready to get some true rest, and it’ll all look better in the morning. Not that it doesn’t look good now.

But he is very tired.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #quackity #nihachu #dsmp fic #/rp #cat writes fic #long post #time travel au #if this fic were divided into acts #this would mark the end of act 1 :)

[aro-and-tired]

Aromantic Experiences in Fandom: Survey Results

PART 1 - PART 2 - ANALYSIS: TIME IN FANDOM - ANALYSIS: AROALLO VS AROACE

This is the last of posts I am planning to make when it comes to the results to this survey, and in this one I want to focus on any differences between the opinions of the allosexual respondents versus the asexual ones. I suggest having looked over at Part 1 and Part 2 of the survey results, and/or keeping them open in another tab to easily confront the results.

Aroace respondents (including oriented and angled aroaces) were 558. Aroallo respondents were 154. The sample size for aroallos is, clearly, quite a bit smaller, and thus more likely to be inaccurate, still it is hopefully big enough to adequately represent the opinions of aroallo fans. People who identified as non-SAM aros, or who said that they were questioning or otherwise not identified with the given options are not being included in this discussion.

Not all questions of the survey will be discussed again in this post, in particular those questions were the aroace and aroallo respondents answered in a very similar way will not be discussed here.

As usual, summary is at the bottom of the post.

General Fandom Questions

Out of the entire samples, 543 aroaces stated that they are currently involved in fandom spaces, as well as 145 aroallos. The survey has a section for people who were not involved in fandom, however, this section will not be discussed here because the sample size for people not involved in fandom is too small to be considered accurate. Instead, there will be some focus on the questions aimed at aros currently involved in fandom.

In general, would you say fandom spaces are aro-friendly?

Aroallos were more likely than average to answer no to this question (47.6%), while aroaces answered no less often than average (40.6%). Aroallos answered yes way less often (4.1%), while aroaces were more in line with the average results (11.8%).

Do you think it's easy to find aromantic specific content in fandom? 

Aroallos were more likely to say no (90.3%) than aroaces (85.8%). Aroaces were more likely to say yes (6.7%) than aroallos (4.1%).

Do you think alloromantic (non-aromantic) fans are in general respectful of aromantic interpretations of characters/media? 

Aroallos were more likely to answer no (61.4%) than aroaces (55.0%). While the amount of people who were unsure varied, the two groups were about equally likely to say yes.

Content Creators Questions

418 aroaces stated that they have created fancontent. 116 aroallos stated that they have created fancontent.

If you have created aro content, would you say it got more or less attention than your non aro content? 

Aroallos were more likely to say that their aro content got less attention (77.8%) compared to aroaces (63.8%). Also, some aroaces said that their aro content got more attention (3.4%), but no aroallos answered this way, saying that at most it got the same amount of attention.

Have you ever felt discouraged by your fandom when it comes to making aro content?

Aroaces were more likely to answer no to this question (37.8%) than aroallos (31.0%). Out of those who did feel discourages, aroallos were more likely than aroaces to say that it was out of fear for receiving hate for it (42.3% vs 35.5%).

Shipping Questions

Aroallos were more likely to be into shipping than aroaces (92.2% vs 87.5%). There were 142 aroallo shippers, and 514 aroace ones. The questions aimed at non-shippers will also not be discussed, as once again the sample size was too small to make comparisons. Instead, there will be focus on the questions aimed at shippers.

Do you consider non-romantic shipping (shipping characters as queerplatonic partners, friends with benefits, etc.) to be a valid form of shipping, or do you think shipping only refers to romantic situations? 

Aroallos were more likely than average to answer yes (78.2%), aroaces were less likely than averages (69.2%). Aroallos were also much more likely to state that shipping only applies to romantic situations (14.8%) than aroaces (6.6%).  Instead, aroaces were more likely to answer that only some forms of non-romantic shipping count as shipping (23.6%), while aroallos were strongly less likely to answer this way (7.0%). 

When it comes to your ships, do you prefer content that focuses more on the romantic or sexual aspect of the relationship? 

The differences in the way the two groups answered this question were very significant. Aroaces were most likely to answer that they like romantic content and dislike sexual content (43.4%), which is also the option that appeared as the most chosen in the general results. However, this was the absolutely least chosen option by aroallos (5.6%).

Aroaces were also fairly likely to say that they prefer romantic content, while also enjoying sexual content (25.2%). However, aroallos were less likely than average to chose this option (13.4%).

When it comes to the option for liking both equally, aroallos were far more likely to pick it than aroaces (46.5% vs 26.2%).

Many aroallos said that they prefer sexual content, while also enjoying romantic content (26.8%). This option was far less chosen by aroaces (4.7%).

Lastly, some aroallos said that they prefer sexual content and dislike romantic content (7.7%). Very few aroaces picked this option (0.6%).

Here I will give you a list of tropes commonly found in shipping fan content. I ask that you pick 5 that you consider your favorites. You can pick less than 5 if there aren't enough tropes that you like, but please try not to pick more.

When it came to aroace fans, the most popular tropes picked align fairly well with the general results. The five most popular are Domestic Fluff (51.7%), Slow Burn (49.8%), Mutual Pining (49.0%), Friends to Lovers (41.4%) and Enemies to Lovers (39.8%). There are the exact same five tropes that resulted most popular from the general results, although in slightly different order. The rest of the tropes still roughly follows the same pattern as what was in the general results (described in Part 2) with minor differences.

Things are, however, fairly different when it comes to aroallo responses. Here the five most popular tropes are PWP (47.1%), Mutual Pining (45.1%), Enemies to Lovers (40.8%), Friends with Benefits (38.0%) and Domestic Fluff (32.4%). Slow Burn and Friends to Lovers are here kicked out of the top five, replaced by PWP and Friends with Benefits, both tropes with a heavy sexual side to them.

Because the rest of the tropes were also somewhat out of order, I’ll report which ones aroallos picked in order of most to least popular: Slow Burn, Established Relationships, Porn with Feelings, Friends to Lovers, Unhealthy Relationships, Fake Dating, Hate Sex, Getting Together and Soulmate AU, Unrequited Love, Jealousy/Possessiveness, Friends with Benefits to Lovers and Hanahaki Disease and Telepathic Bonds, Arranged Marriage, Break Ups, First Dates, Love at First Sight.

Porn with Feelings is far higher on the list (seventh most popular here vs eleventh most popular in the general results). Hate Sex is also much higher (eleventh here vs seventeenth in the general results). Friends with Benefits to Lovers is the only “sexual” trope that didn’t make a significant jump. On the other hand, Friends to Lovers was much less popular among aroallos, as well as Soulmate AU.

Here I give you the same list of tropes, but this time I ask that you pick the 5 tropes you dislike the most. Again, you can pick less than 5, but please try not to pick more

Once again, for aroaces the top five most disliked trope are the same as the overall most disliked tropes. In order Jealousy/Possessiveness (54.5%), Unhealthy Relationships (52.3%), Hate Sex (50.2%), Love at First Sight (39.7%), and Hanahaki Disease (38.7%). The order is a little different, with Hate Sex being higher in the list compared to the general results, but the tropes are the same. The rest is, once again, very similar to the general list of most disliked tropes, with the most significant difference being that the sixth most disliked trope here was PWP, who was not as unpopular in the general results.

For aroallos, the top five is Love at First Sight (52.1%), then Soulmate AU and Hanahaki Disease and Jealousy/Possessiveness (47.9% for all three), and Unhealthy Relationships (36.6%). Aroallos were a lot more likely to dislike Soulmate AUs compared to aroaces. On the other hand, Hate Sex is much less unpopular for aroallos, being only the tenth most disliked trope.

Other sexual tropes such as PWP and Porn with Feelings were in the same position, as second least disliked tropes. Friends with Benefits was the least disliked trope, with only one person picking it.

Summary

Aroallos reported finding fandom somewhat less aro-friendly than aroaces, as well as apparently finding aromantic content harder to find. Aroallo creators reported that their aromantic specific content received less attention, and that they more often felt discouraged by fandom when it comes to making said content than aroace respondents. Given the smaller sample size of aroallos, it’s a little hard to say whether this was a statistical fluke or if fandom is indeed less friendly to aroallos than to aroaces. Once could say that perhaps the aro content that aroallo want is less likely to be made and less likely to be well received, but unfortunately there weren’t questions asking details regarding the kind of content either group wants or makes.

When it comes to shipping, most aroaces prefer romantic content, often disliking sexual content, and very few of them prefer sexual content. On the other hand, most aroallos enjoy sexual content, with the majority of aroallos either enjoying both romantic and sexual content equally or having a preference for sexual content. This is also reflected in the tropes either group prefers, with aroallos showing a lot of interest in tropes such as PWP and Friends with Benefits, compared to aroaces who as a general rule are not fans of these tropes. Aroallos also care less for Friends to Lovers, and tend to dislike Soulmate AUs more than aroaces do.

Thank you for having read through this post, even more if you read through all the previous ones as well. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to contact me.

#aromantic #aroallo #aroace #alloaro #fandom #survey results

[madamewriterofwrongs]

Sending you all my hugs 🥰🥰🥰😍 How about...Buddie having the time of their lives being absolute shit at arcade games.

I remember I asked for fluffy prompts the night my boss passed away. That was months ago but I did not forget. Thank you everyone who sent me prompts while I was processing some tough emotions.

911/Buddie 

1v1 Co-op Matchmaking

Read on Ao3

“Are you sure this is the place?” Eddie tried to peer through one of the windows with the scratched off signage but the tinted glass made it impossible to see anything beyond vague shapes in evenly marked spaces.

“Absolutely.” Buck joined him in looking through the glass but seemed to be satisfied with what he saw there. “I found this place my first year in L.A.” He went on to explain as Eddie followed him to the blacked out double doors. “I promise you’re going to love it.”

As with most things in Eddie’s life, he had no choice but to follow his partner. He entered first, a blast of cool air hitting his face, bringing with it the scent of French fries and old pennies. Beyond the sound of whirs and buzzes was quiet chatter and the occasional exclamation of excitement or disappointment (usually accompanied by a string of barely recognizable curses – no doubt, due to the ‘No Swearing’ sign hanging on the cash register in the corner). All around him were a collection of game machines in nearly straight aisles reaching several rows down and across. Interspersed between the machines were tables and chairs with folded signs informing guests that food and drinks were not to be taken to the game machines.

“It’s an arcade.” Eddie dumbly informed his friend.

Buck stood beside him, chest puffed with pride as he examined the terrain. “One of the last in the city that hasn’t been overrun by hipsters.”

“So you’re saying you found this place before it was cool?” Eddie strolled towards the register knowing Buck would be glaring at him all the way. As predicted, Buck paid for both of them and converted twenty dollars into quarters for the two of them two split.

“Oh, this place is old school.” Eddie, once again, exclaimed the obvious while pocketing his share of the coins. “How did you find this place?” he asked as they wandered the aisles looking for their first game. “I didn’t think you would be old enough to remember ‘Ms. Pacman’.”

Buck bumped his shoulder with a playful gasp. “You are being so mean to me today.” He chided before falling more somber. “When I first moved here and started training, I needed a place to study. I had, like, six roommates so there was no way I could concentrate there. So, I wandered around looking for something a little less chaotic and I found this place.”

“And this place was quieter than your house?” Eddie hadn’t lived with roommates in a few years – not since his army days – but he couldn’t imagine one house being that overwhelming.

“No.” Buck rolled his eyes at Eddie’s internal monologue. “I ended up at the library a few blocks away. But I came here once or twice when I needed to get out of the house. Obviously, work keeps me pretty busy, but I like coming here from time to time.”

All of it made sense, but Eddie heard the softness in his friend’s tone, the way he spoke about this place as though it were something precious. He was being handed a gift and he would not turn it down.

“Thank you for sharing it with me.” When Buck looked up at his partner through long eyelashes (when did he start noticing Buck’s eyelashes?), Eddie felt goosebumps rise and wash down his body. Like awakening from a long nap, his limbs tingled and he felt every step as they continued their journey to find the perfect game.

It wasn’t the first time he felt that flash of lightning through his veins at the sight of his friend – he was a single man and his partner was very attractive – but it had been happening more often than he cared to admit. Noticing the little details of Buck’s appearance (his eyelashes, for example) was new. Feeling his heart beat faster and his skin burn with a desire he hadn’t felt in a long time…was less new. In fact, Eddie was nearly ready to put a label on the feelings stirring in his chest.

Last winter, when his sisters were visiting and the three siblings got to have a big family dinner with all the cousins and aunts and uncles, he’d spent a little too long talking about Buck. Or, maybe, Christopher had. Either way, Sophia managed to corner him in the kitchen after dessert had knocked out the majority of the children, and asked Eddie how long he’d been with Buck. Romantically. It was sometime after midnight (and a bottle of wine between the three of them) that Eddie finally admitted to both of his sisters that he had feelings for his best friend. Adriana had cooed and asked if Buck felt the same and, on some tipsy instinct, he’d answered “Yes.”

Of course, he didn’t know for certain – he’d never come out and said “Hey, Buck, I want to bend you over the railing and then grow old with you. What do you say?” – but he knew Buck. He knew Buck better than anyone (Maddie might give him a run for his money, but he’s fairly certain there’s a few stories Buck hasn’t told his sister about his time travelling the country). When that man loved, he loved with all his heart, and Eddie figured out a long time ago that Buck had given at least part of himself to the Diaz boys. Why not his heart?

So, yes, Eddie had a pretty good idea of how he felt, and was nearly certain that Buck felt the same way. And now, they were standing in an arcade – the location of which Buck hadn’t shared with anyone else in his life – occasionally making extended eye contact through the aisles. It wasn’t a matter of ‘if’. It was a matter of ‘when’.

So now, when not staring longingly into his friend’s eyes, Eddie scanned the names listed above each game. Some of the names were ones he recognized (‘Frogger’, ‘Pacman’, the aforementioned ‘Ms. Pacman’, ‘Centipede’). Others, were less familiar (‘Inferno’, ‘Dig Dug’, ‘1942’) and looked…confusing. His eye caught on a ‘Space Invaders’-looking game and he called his partner to his side.

“Want to be a member of the ‘Moon Patrol’?” He bumped Buck’s shoulder with the smile he reserved just for his friend, and dug for a quarter.

“Nope!” Buck declared as he retrieved his own quarter and inserted it into the appropriate slot, bumping Eddie out of the way so he could stand centered at the controls. “I call first game!”

Though he rolled his eyes in annoyance, Eddie took the loss as an opportunity to watch his partner work. He loved watching Buck work (nearly as much as he enjoyed working beside him). There were times when the man’s focus was hypnotizing. The firm set of his jaw, the piercing eyes that seemed unblinking, the way every part of his body tensed in concentration. He’d seen Buck excited, anxious, worried, panicked, even numb – when it came to the uncontrollable dangers of their job, they had been through a lot together. Every emotion showed Eddie how much his friend cared about his work.

This expression, however, was one he doubted many other members of the Los Angeles Fire Department had seen on the young firefighter. It was one Eddie had been privy to on more than one occasion when Christopher had brought over a particularly difficult puzzle or science question. He wasn’t sure he was ever meant to see it but he happened to be standing in the doorway after putting away leftovers from dinner and he’d seen it: the desire to win, the earnest focus, the eagerness and seriousness of his intent. The first time he saw, it was an accident.  Every other time he rushed to finish his chores whenever he thought that face might emerge… that was less of an accident.

He was pulled from his fond musings by a minor key jingle and light-hearted groan of disappointment.

“Only got to Point Q on the Champion Course.” Buck exclaimed, throwing his hands in defeat.

Eddie couldn’t help himself – or at least, that’s what he told himself. His partner was too genuine. But that was one of his favourite things about the man. Where Eddie could usually keep his outward appearance neutral in the face of adversity (a skill he’d used nearly every day since joining the LAFD), Buck never shied away from letting his face show just exactly what was on his mind – even if he never said anything.

And so, Eddie laughed. Only a small chuckle, but his heart never felt so light as when he was with Buck. It was easy to see, however, that his laugh could be misconstrued as mocking. Perhaps it was both.

“Think you can do better?” The newly-defeated champion bowed and offered the center position to his friend and Eddie stepped into place with another fond eyeroll (he made a mental note to ask his optometrist if too many eyerolls could cause nerve damage).

All right, Eddie thought as he tried to get a handle on the controls, so it wasn’t as easy as he thought. The joystick was rigid and the control pad was sticky and the graphics were definitely from an era long-passed. If he hadn’t been raised with an infinite amount of patience (according to his aunt), he might have given up. As it was, he died before reaching the first checkpoint.

Buck’s laughter could not be interpreted as anything other than mocking, and he didn’t bother to hide it. “You are truly terrible.” He informed Eddie with a slap on the shoulder.

Though he knew he didn’t need an excuse, it was too easy to play when Buck was around. “I’m used to the console at home. Unlike some people, I don’t spend my time playing with technology from the Reagan-era.”

“Well then let me show you.” Before Eddie could properly interpret Buck’s offer, the man had come to stand behind him, chin hovering over his shoulder, arms palming his elbows and guiding him back towards the console. “One more round.” Buck declared, enthusiastically. At his prompting, Eddie gripped the joystick and placed his hands just above the cluster of buttons on his left side. The now-familiar starting music began and Eddie focused all of his energy into game before him. Every few moments, he heard Buck mutter a command or offer advice and he took it without question. The joystick was still rigid and the buttons were still sticky but together, they made it to the second checkpoint. And then the third. By the fourth, Eddie had all but forgotten the world around them. The only things that existed were Eddie, the game, and Buck’s voice in his ear. It was soothing, almost, to fall into that rhythm. So long as he navigated the bumpy terrain and dodged the alien invasion, nothing else mattered.

Until he missed jumping over a landmine and was blown to smithereens.

“Damn!” Buck’s voice was suddenly too close. The air around him electrified on an exhale and the heat of his chest warmed Eddie to his core. As quickly as the world had fallen away in Buck’s arms, it came rushing back, more vibrant and alive than before. Every sound of electronics whirring, Buck’s steady breathing, and people shouting – even the rumble of the cars outside the arcade – was amplified. Every smell of old metal, sweat, and smoke hidden under Buck’s aftershave was overwhelming. Every touch of his scratchy jeans, the clammy plastic in his hand, and the warm presence at his back, made Eddie close his eyes to shut out one of his senses. The only one left was taste.

Buck and Eddie had held each other plenty of times over the years. They were partners and friends who worked in close contact with one another. At the end of a hard day, in the middle of a daring rescue, at the beginning of a heated glance as they stood in front of a game machine. They had shaken hands, hugged tightly, gripped for dear life at the edge of a cliff, even bumped shoulders often enough that he had a Buck-shaped indent near his heart. But standing in this loose hold – the other man’s arms barely brushing his, his back pressed against the other’s front – Eddie had never felt the overwhelming urge to taste more fervently than he did in that moment.

He knew that Buck was an attractive man – he was repressed, he wasn’t dead – and though he’d been contemplating thinking about maybe working up to taking some next step, he hadn’t counted on standing in Buck’s arms and feeling his heart flutter like a school girl with a crush.

Upon slowly dragging his eyes to meet his friend’s Eddie found himself breathlessly overtaken by the sensation of hope. Buck’s eyes were bright and round (earnest, just as he’d known them to be) His eyelashes closed and opened slowly, seemingly disbelieving of his circumstance. If Eddie knew Buck as well as he hoped he did, then there was a question in his friend’s eyes that was begging to be asked. A question Eddie was more than happy to answer.

“We make a pretty good team.” He felt his own breath reverberate off of Buck’s cheek and it stuttered in time with his heart.

“I’ve always thought so.” Buck’s lips twitched with suppressing a smile.

Then, came the moment of truth. Eddie felt a brief flicker of panic as he took one last breath before diving in.

“What should we do about it?”

In reality, Buck only contemplated his response for a few seconds but for Eddie, the silence stretched for years – three years, in fact. He felt the world move in slow motion and within it, he watched as Buck’s face flicked with a thousand emotions: fear, anxiety, excitement, contentment, desire, hope, doubt; finally, he settled on quiet happiness.

“I think we need to find a game we can play together. As partners. What do you say?”

As if there were any other response, Eddie smiled at Buck. “Partners.”

The rest of their time at the arcade was locked away, inaccessible to even Eddie, who recalled nothing more than laughter and flirtatious eye contact as they made their way through the aisles of games. At the end of the night, Eddie would get down the block before turning back to Buck’s door. He would run a nervous hand through his hair while he knocked with the other, and waited for the answer. And then, he would blush as he asked if Buck wanted to go on a date with him tomorrow. Buck would blush harder and assure Eddie that he would happily attend, but warn that he no longer kissed on the first date.

But maybe on their second date tomorrow, he’d get lucky.

#911 on fox #911 fox #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie fic #911 fic #getting together #dorks in love #mutual pining #flirting over games #cj writes things #cj answers things #zeethebooknerd #love zee

[nikadoesanart]

Will Jouno assist Fukuchi?

In ch 92, Fukuchi shows Bram to Jouno (though I'd say introduce would be a better way to describe it cause Jouno's blind but minor inconsequential details) and reveals that he is the mastermind behind the Agency being framed and asks Jouno to help him. Personally, I think that Jouno is just a bit more likely to form some kind of alliance with Fukuchi but not necessarily a full-on partnership, much less to the point where it'd be considered working more with Fukuchi as Kamui of the DOA than helping Fukuchi as Fukuchi himself or as the commander of the HD.

Also, I am using @buraihatranslations translation of ch 92, so that's where my exact phrasing for quotations and page counts are coming from. You can read the full translation here.

The main context of our focus

“I’m the mastermind. Jouno, wouldn’t you like to assist me?” (p 19)

For starters, I don’t think Fukuchi is being a reckless idiot for saying this. Considering that he's literally Kamui, he obviously must’ve considered this as a calculated but worthwhile risk to take. As I’ve previously mentioned in my ch 89.5 cover art analysis, Jouno is the most on the fence of the HD in terms of supporting Fukuchi vs believing in the Agency’s innocence. In fact, as we learned in 92, he simply doesn’t care and can therefore be considered a (nearly) neutral party. Jouno is also basically a living breathing lie detector, so he can tell apart the likes of jokes and lies from the truth very easily. Jouno also cares primarily about being able to hear his victim’s suffering, regardless of who’s right or wrong or innocent or guilty (as he’s told Aya). It logically just makes the most sense for Fukuchi to try to get Jouno on his side out of all the HD because :

Teruko is a simp for Fukuchi but she still cares about civilians and being able to take pride in her job as an officer (Sky Casino)

Tachihara has already clearly established his doubts in the ADA being guilty in front of all of the HD (ch 89) and told Fukuchi that he sees himself as more Mafia than HD now (ch 89.5)

Tecchou has a very strong sense of justice and cares about fairness, so asking him to quite literally join the side of the terrorists would never work out and would essentially be a waste of both time and possibly personnel too

What does Jouno personally want?

As I've already briefly touched on (and presumably you already read ch 92 before this), Jouno has already stated his goals, which gives us a good sense of where he stands morally.

“I just want to hear the voice of someone’s suffering.” (p 9)

“To hurt people under the name of the law[,] corner them and hear their “sound” as they break.” (p 10)

Now that we’ve more than established that Jouno is in fact, a sadist, I do want to emphasize Jouno’s mention of the law. Not only does he enjoy making people suffer (specifically psychologically, as he’s mentioned before), but he specifically mentions that he wants to do it “under/in the name of the law”, meaning that he likely either only wants to do it in a “justifiable”/“excusable” way or that he doesn’t want or plan to be held accountable for his actions (or worse, both). Until we get a backstory reveal, there could be any number of reasons for him being this way. I think it’s fairly likely that he’s from a similar situation to Fukuchi (took part in the Great War, and the mental scarring of everything he experienced then caused him to find some sort of extreme and inhumane goal or enjoyment to cope with it all). So for example, he could have been drafted for the War because he’s an ability user (or maybe he already happened to be in some sort of training where he received recognition for his skills, ie. the military academy or part of a renowned dojo) and eventually that led him to become a sadist because coping mechanism or discovering that he’s a sadist because of some extreme circumstances (ie. having to interrogate a prisoner for the first time and realizing how much he enjoyed giving and hearing the psychological torture).

Example of Jouno's excuses and justification

“I was just asking suspects for cooperation!”

“Then do it after they sign the consent form for judicial transaction. Otherwise, it’s not justice.” (p 12)

On one hand, we have Jouno who is very quick to make excuses for his actions by using his position as an officer to justify his behavior. Despite knowingly and intentionally using extreme measures, beyond what's necessary for the situation, he's using the law and his job to try to justify it. (If you're seeing some real-world parallels here, good job!)

On the other hand, we have Tecchou who very clearly values actual justice that is fair to all parties (as we’ve seen previously with him promising the cafe owner that the ADA will get a fair trial at the very least in ch 72). In fact, I think it’d be safe to say that Tecchou is the one that values impartial justice and fairness the most out of the HD, but that's not the focus here.

Parallelisms and which other organizations would suit him and his goals

(p 15-16)

For starters, Jouno appears to be on the side that believes that the ADA is a part of/affiliated with the DOA (if I’m not reading this wrong)

Also, I’d like to highlight him saying:

“ ‘Our tastes match’, if I should say. The abusive nature. To be honest, I’m almost empathetic. If we happen to lose this battle, I wouldn’t mind reemploying to their side. Not to say that we wouldn’t possibly lose.”

Jouno has no doubt in the strength of the HD but also just wants to be on the abusively cruel side dishing out the suffering. If he’s able to use his position to excuse his actions (ie. what he said about Aya just a few pages ago), then that’s even better for him. The ADA has an ability permit and currently ⅓ of the police force is siding with them and believes in their innocence. Joining the ADA next, should the HD lose, would be the most advantageous for him, if the allegations of them being abusively cruel terrorists were true.

In my opinion, his actual next best organization to join, based on his interests and goals so far as well as his own methods, would be the PM. They have an ability permit too and he’d have just as many chances to be either on the front lines and/or work with the interrogation team. With what his goals has revealed about his moral code, he’s just more cut out for the nature and surface level goals of the PM than the ADA. In fact, Dazai has already admitted to the two of them being alike (which we as the readers can deduce is for their methods in manipulation and interrogation) and Dazai has previously mentioned that he’d sometimes have to come in and help Kouyou’s interrogation team with the job (ch 19). Jouno joining the PM could be a very easy transition, should he stop caring about doing things “under the name of the law” (p 10). However, there is a loophole with the PM being a part of the tripartite tactic, of which the whole goal is to protect Yokohama. Both we as the readers and the members of the ADA know that despite their methods, the PM does in fact care about upholding the overall peace and safety of Yokohama. The reason why he jokes about joining the ADA and makes no mention of the PM (at least in my opinion), is because before all of this, to the public eye, the ADA was one of the “good guys” that were upholding the law whereas the PM is quite literally the mafia. (I touch on this part too in my ch 89.5 cover art analysis.)

Back to answering Fukuchi's question now

I feel like Jouno is ever so slightly more likely to form some kind of alliance with Fukuchi as Kamui but not straight up joining the DOA/allying with the DOA as a whole because again, Jouno is very much sadistic but he also specifically tells Aya (a possible hostage and a confirmed supporter of the ADA) that he specifically wants to “to hurt people under the name of the law” (p 10). Fully siding with the DOA and Kamui would mean that he’d no longer be working under the protection of the law, by any extent, unless Fukuchi were to create some kind of excuse as the commander of the HD (ie. Jouno was under the control of the vampirism). He might work with Fukuchi but I don’t think he’d work with or for Kamui. Either way, I think that overall it’s a very close tie.

In short:

If he says yes then he’d risk not having the law to protect him any longer, which is a part of what he clearly wants to have. The only way around this is some sort of agreement where Fukuchi will create a believable excuse for Jouno helping or he does it in a very indirect way that won't be noticed by others or can easily be played off as some sort of coincidence.

If he says no, he’d likely have to go up against Fukuchi and Bram and risk getting turned as well. I doubt he’d be killed since that would raise too many questions with Tecchou and Teruko, and thanks to Tachihara’s fight, I’d say it’s all been explicitly stated that still being alive is a part of the requirements to be turned into a vampire. When Tachihara tried to off himself as a last resort, specifically to stop Fukuchi and Bram from turning him into a vampire, Fukuchi personally prevented that from happening (ch 90).

Jouno has established that he just wants to hear the sound of people suffering (which Fukuchi would probably have learned of or figured out by now, considering that he’s the commanding officer here), which can be achieved from quite literally any side. However, his condition to this is doing it "under the name of the law", so being on a side that has the law’s protection and works on the front lines is where he’d be closest to achieving this with minimal risk (so realistically the HD or ADA). I doubt Jouno would have any interest in joining the Special Division because I doubt he’d get to do much interrogating or front-line work there, in addition to him having less of an excuse for his cruel methods, and I've already gone over why he'd rather join the ADA than the PM.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd analysis #bsd spoilers #bsd theories #bsd jouno #bsd 92 #bsd chapter 92

[stories-about-cheating-women]

Reddit gf leaves dead bedroom

Going to write this while it’s still etched in my mind, just gonna be straight up honest here. I’m writing this for masturbation material so it’s gonna be pretty explicit. Fair warning, this is long.

Small bit of context. Boyfriend has low test levels. Refused for nearly 5 years to change it, I haven’t had an orgasm in two years and after getting desperate I asked if I could see other men. Matched with this guy on bumble and met up with him a few times, got a small crush on him and I wanted him to have sex with me badly so as soon as we swapped STD test results we went for it. In short.

It was incredible. Like it was one of the best experiences I’ve ever had and by far my best sexual experience.

Before getting into this I talked to the bumble guy and told him my situation so he’s aware, he told me tonight he knows I’ve only had sex with one man and I’m in a serious relationship etc and if I want to back out or just watch a movie we can do that. I said no, I was determined to follow through. I was actually a little offended that he was talking to me like I was innocent so I began to feel up his crotch and I straddled him.

We went at it for a few minutes before he put his hands on my ass and picked me up, taking me in his arms and walking me to the bedroom. I loved it, I felt like a princess as he held me, it was borderline romantic. He put me down on the bed and began to stroke my thighs as we made out further, it wasn’t long until we were both wearing nothing but our underwear. He ran his fingers gently over my boobs and grinned, I pushed his hands off playfully and told him to take his pants off. He was quick to comply.

Now I’d seen photos of his dick before but seeing it in person was something else, it was very, VERY intimidating to say the least. He said he’s a bit over 8 inches and that’s certainly believable, his thickness was what scared me the most, he was almost as thick as my wrist. He looked at me quizzically so I quickly took my bra off and crawled over the mattress towards him. Hopefully I didn’t appear to be too awkward as I started to jack him off, my boyfriend is about 5 inches so that’s what I’m primarily used to and working with a penis this size was a real process. This guy was also uncut so that was another new toolset I had to work with.

I put my mouth over his dick and slowly began to blow him. I don’t think I did a great job as I was out of practice, nervous and I wasn’t used to deal with one that thick but he seemed to enjoy himself regardless. I couldn’t get it very far down but I kept flicking my tongue on the tip while slowly moving up and down until I had about half of it in my mouth and judging by his moans, it was much appreciated.

After about 5 minutes of that he put his hands on my face, kissed me and moved my body so I was on my back looking up at him. He looked at me questioningly and I nodded as he began to pull my panties down my legs and removed them from my body. He smiled at me reassuringly before gently slipping a finger inside me, by this point I was very wet and knew I could take more so I told him as much. He put two fingers in then three, he started to move his fingers around and I just weakly smiled and closed my eyes as I took in the feeling. He continued with that for a few minutes, stretching me out with his finger to prepare me. After a while I heard him open a plastic container, he began to coat his hands in lube. The aching feeling I had when I felt the coldness of the lube on his fingers enter me was indescribable, my mouth was actually watering as he worked away to coat my insides with it. Once he pulled his hands from me and began to apply lube to himself, that’s when I really started to get nervous, the reality of the situation finally hitting me. I was about to let a man I’d known for a few weeks fuck me. I was honestly pretty tempted to back down but I couldn’t find the words, I stayed quiet and he got back on the bed and positioned himself over me. I brushed my thoughts aside and began to make out with him again.

As we were kissing I began to feel tugging feeling on my clit, his hands were still all over my hips feeling me up so I realised that had to be his dick pressed against my crotch. It felt so wrong but so good too, I felt like I was doing something wrong and it was a huge turn on.

After a few minutes of kissing and groping he pulled away, I smiled and shakily said I was ready. He kissed me softly once more before putting a hand on his penis and pushing it inside me. I don’t know why but I shivered slightly when he entered me, I wasn’t cold at all but it just happened. He started slow, barely putting the tip in to gauge how I’d react, I smiled and he pushed a bit more before stopping, after that I lost patience, wrapped my hands round his neck and pulled his face to mine, driving his dick into me in the process. He pushed a little more and I felt my vagina stretch to accommodate him, he was fully in, as far as he could go. I had a mini panic attack and took several deep breaths as I adjusted. Having him in me was quite the experience. It was... tight, not painful thankfully but very tight. I panicked a little but he pressed a hand gently over my mouth before I could say anything and told me just to be still for a couple of minutes. We did that and it was surprisingly intimate. We didn’t kiss, we just looked each other in the eye as his dick sat motionless inside me.

After what felt like forever but was probably only a few minutes he looked at me with a cute little smile and asked me if I was okay, I sorta nodded and he asked me again more assertively and I told him I was. He called me a “good girl” which drove me nuts for some reasons, he began to slowly move out, the head of his penis stopped right at the entrance to my vagina, we smirked at each other for a moment before he pushed himself back inside me with a sigh.

As he thrusted into me gently I stretched my arm down the length of our bodies and began to softly stroke his balls as he began to pick up the pace, it felt incredible. Before long I lost my focus and just gave into the moment, wrapping my legs around him as I did my best to just hold on. I’m pretty awkward with noises so I usually try and stay quiet beyond some soft moaning but with this I was pretty much panting as he worked on me. It felt incredible. I enjoy sex but I’m usually more of an oral kinda girl but this was just so much better. I don’t know if it was due to his size or the length of time since I’d last gotten laid but I felt everything so much more here. It was quite literally orgasmic.

He also kept deliberately making his dick twitch while it was in me and oh my god it feels so good, it’s only a minor physical sensation but there was something so nice about it that just sets me off and really gets me going.

Now as I said, I’m not much of a moaner but the warmth, sensation and the moment got to me. I wasn’t conscious, not really, I was just there as he was laying into me. I made noises I never knew I could make without trying to make them. I think I even giggled at one point, there wasn’t anything funny going on I was just so high on emotions and lost control of my inhibitions and let loose.

Soon enough I felt a warmth began to fester in my feet before working its way up my legs, I giggled slightly and shivered again as I had my first orgasm of the night. It was lovely, in that moment I felt so close to him and honestly it’s the happiest I’ve felt in a good while, it was very liberating to just be there with another person so close to me and feel that good.

The emotions definitely were there as I actually started to cry after cumming. I think it was a mixture of pleasure and feeling overwhelmed. I’d never kissed another man let alone this and I felt guilty that had just orgasmed to another man thrusting inside me. I kept thinking about my boyfriend and how he would feel if he knew about this, I know I had his permission but still it was a lot to process. I’d always assumed we’d be happily married by now, not him being at home and me being in a strange man’s bed. Life’s weird. The worst part was as guilty as I felt my priority was still what I had in front of me and the event at hand, I’d come here for sex and that’s what I needed.

He told me we could stop if I wanted to but I just shook my head and asked him if we could please continue. He wiped some tears from my cheek and started to kiss me passionately, cuddling me as he pressed his weight onto me, pushing me down into the mattress. I just pressed my face to his neck and closed my eyes as I felt his dick begin to move about inside of me once more. What followed next was the longest orgasm I’ve ever experienced. I don’t know how long it was exactly but it was damn close to 10 minutes of fairly consistent pleasure. It was honestly so good I thought I might faint. It was blissful.

Before long my sighs were met with his, his pace intensified and lost its tempo as he got more wild and he began to pretty much thrash about inside me, he was literally pounding me me so hard he had to hold my shoulders to stop me from hitting my head against the backboard. He growled slightly in my ear as he came inside me, it felt great. His cock kept twitching uncontrollably and I fucking loved it. To me having a guy cum inside you is one of the highest praises you can get.

Afterwards he went out to pick us up some food, when he got back we ate and chatted before deciding to go for another round. This time I rode him on the couch until we both came. I’m no longer intimidated by his size, I definitely couldn’t take it without being warmed up but I now know I can take it and at quite a pace. I’m actually quite proud of myself for taking such a big dick without much struggle, definitely underestimated myself on that front.

It’s been a few hours since our last session and surprisingly, I’m not too sore, there wasn’t any blood and other than a little discomfort early on I was fine. I have quite a deep vagina and I practised with toys around his size beforehand so I was pretty well prepared for it. He’s asleep right now and I’m just in his bed watching Netflix with subtitles on, hopefully we can go another round or two in the morning before I go home.

This has definitely been a fun short term things and I definitely plan on doing this again. Long term I really don’t know what I want, I just know I can’t stay in a sexless relationship anymore. I talked with this guy about all of this and he’s obviously willing to fuck me as much as I want him too so I can at least get laid but the reality is I’m not happy in my relationship. I thought I was but I’m just not. I love my boyfriend so much but just from doing this I developed a connection with this guy that I haven’t had with my boyfriend in literal years. He’s not willing to put in any effort for our sex life so it’s just become my sex life and I have to do what I need to do.

Anyway, that’s my confession I guess Feel free to PM me if you want to chat! Just don’t be too weird please.

[holycatsandrabbits]

Tollense, an original serial romance by Dannye Chase, Chapter 6

A history professor falls in love with his best friend, a 3000-year-old vampire.

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Chapter 6

CW: blood, injury

2003 (Four years later)

When Liam brought in his mail that afternoon, he didn’t realize what a dangerous act it was. He should have, he supposed. He’d been getting threatening letters now for over ten years, since before he’d met Kurt. Their postmarks varied and there were no fingerprints. The police couldn’t figure out who was sending them, and neither could Kurt, who’d started investigating as soon as he’d learned of them.

Liam assumed that either he’d done something in his past to offend someone, or that he was a random victim of someone targeting a university with anti-academic talk. The letters said clearly, I will kill you, but Liam had long since stopped believing that it was an actual threat.

But it wasn’t that the letters didn’t upset Liam, and ironically, it was good that they did, because Liam’s reaction to the letter in the mail that day alerted Kurt. Four years ago, on a beautiful night in Germany, Kurt had drunk blood from Liam’s wrist. They’d been close before that, but sharing blood had given Kurt an even greater insight into Liam’s feelings. Kurt knew when Liam was unhappy or frightened, so when Liam found the letter with the typed address, knowing what it likely was, Kurt abruptly appeared beside him, in time to pluck the envelope from Liam’s hand.

“I’ve told you to let me open these,” Kurt scolded mildly.

Liam leaned back against his kitchen counter, and waved a hand in unsolicited permission. “By all means.”

Kurt was frowning, but otherwise he wasn’t too upset. Liam could tell because despite the fact that Kurt had just teleported into Liam’s kitchen, he looked more or less human. He must have been outside somewhere because his dark hair was a bit wind-blown. Liam wished that they had the kind of relationship where Liam could run his fingers through it to settle it down.

Kurt read the letter quietly and then tossed it onto the table in disgust. “The usual,” he said. “When I figure out who’s sending these—”

“They’re harmless,” Liam said, which on that particular day was highly ironic, but they didn’t know it yet.

“They scare you. That’s harm enough.” Kurt reached for the rest of the mail that Liam had set on his table, sorting through it quickly, apparently approving of it. He came to the package last. “What’s this?”

“I ordered some books.”

Kurt shot him a look of amused exasperation. “You have no room for more books. You’re going to have to buy a second house.”

“I’ll find a place for them. Maybe I could take out a wall— what is it?”

Kurt held the package in his hands. “This is awfully light for books.”

That was the last thing Liam remembered until he felt Kurt’s hand on his cheek. Kurt’s fingers were always cold, and the feeling drew Liam back toward consciousness. Kurt had one hand cradling his face, while another finger traced a slow line down from the top of Liam’s forehead to a spot between his eyes.

Liam realized that Kurt was saying something. “That’s right. Focus on me.”

Kurt’s finger traced its downward path again, and Liam felt himself growing more aware of his surroundings, but mostly more aware of Kurt, who was holding his gaze in an inescapable, hypnotic way. Liam could smell smoke and something charred, but he felt no fear, not even of Kurt, who seemed something entirely other than human at the moment. Something very large, because he’d have to be large to hold all the emotions that Liam could feel filling the room, wafting around like clouds. Some were dark and some very light, and they were all Kurt and Liam, mixed up together.

“There you are, my love,” Kurt said softly. “Just like that. Focus on me.”

Liam moved a little, shifting on the kitchen floor, but Kurt put a hand on his shoulder. “Stay still. Let me look at you.” His finger retraced its path down Liam’s forehead, which had the effect of recentering Liam’s attention on Kurt’s bright green eyes.

After another minute, Kurt moved back and released him. “You’re all right,” he said heavily. “No internal injuries. No concussion. Just three fairly minor lacerations to the left leg, and I’ve taken away the pain from those. I shouldn’t have let you stand so close.”

Liam blinked a couple of times as he realized that now that he could see past Kurt’s eyes, Kurt looked very different, but not at all in a mesmerizing, inhuman way. “You’re hurt,” Liam gasped.

Kurt stepped out of reach before Liam could grab him. “You have to be careful with my blood,” he warned. “Don’t get it in your mouth or the cuts on your leg. You don’t— you don’t need it right now.”

Kurt appeared to have taken the brunt of what must have been a package bomb. Liam’s kitchen table had a blast mark on it, and the chairs had all been knocked over. Bits of paper drifted lazily through the hazy air. Kurt was actually far more damaged than the kitchen, with a large wound on his shoulder. But the wound was not bleeding, and Liam realized that though Kurt’s clothing was shot through with holes, some of them bloodstained, the skin underneath was unmarked.

Kurt turned a chair right side up, and dropped into it wearily. “Ow,” he said, sounding as if he might be irritated by a paper cut.

“Are you okay?” Liam demanded.

Kurt waved a dismissive hand. “Been blown up before. There was a grenade at the Somme, for one. Not a pleasant afternoon.”

“But you— you won’t—”

“I’m fine,” Kurt assured him. “But if I’m going to convince the police that I wasn’t injured, I’ll need to eat something. I’m not quite strong enough for group mind control right now.”

“Well, I’m right here,” Liam said hastily, starting to climb to his feet. “Already bleeding too.”

“Sit down,” Kurt instructed in a sharp voice, and Liam was so startled that he obeyed. “You’re injured.”

“Only mildly. You said.”

“Still no.”

Liam tried not to be too disappointed. “Well— Fern then.” Fern was Kurt’s new love interest, and, as usual, was one of Liam’s history graduate students. She was doing her dissertation on World War Two. Kurt always showed enough of his non-human nature to his romantic interests for them to guess what he was before they became his lovers (and a source of blood). So Fern now had the advantage of dating a man who had fought in World War Two and many wars before that.

“Yeah. I called her,” Kurt said. And it wasn’t long before Liam heard someone come in his front door and make their way toward the kitchen.

“Oh my god,” Fern exclaimed, her eyes wide. “What happened? I had the weirdest feeling that I needed to get here right away.” Apparently, Liam realized, when Kurt said he’d called her, he hadn’t meant on the phone.

“Package bomb,” Kurt said.

Liam nearly spoke over him. “Kurt’s injured. He needs blood.”

Fern’s eyes widened even more. “All right. I’ll call 911.”

Liam gave Kurt a confused look. “Oh. I thought you always told them about you before you became lovers.” He realized his misstep when Fern froze on her way to the telephone.

Kurt pressed his lips together, and Liam couldn’t tell if he was fighting a smile or a frown. “You’re getting a little ahead of me there.”

“Oh,” Liam said. “Sorry. How embarrassing.” He looked up at Fern. “It’s okay, Kurt can’t be killed. Or he might actually be already dead.”

Kurt had opened his mouth to say something but now it just hung open.

“I’m sorry,” Liam said. “I’m not good at this.”

Fern did look like she was a little more concerned about Liam than Kurt, but she turned to Kurt, taking in his appearance. The wound on his shoulder was now nothing more than a dark purple bruise. Liam wondered how bad the injuries had been before Liam had seen them.

“Are you a vampire, then?” Fern asked. “That was number two on my list.”

“What was number one?” Kurt asked.

“Street magician who desperately wanted to look like a vampire.”

Kurt laughed, sounding delighted. “I don’t know that I’ve had that one before.”

“You need blood?” Fern asked. She put a hand on Kurt’s uninjured shoulder.

He focused his green eyes on her, with no hint of hypnosis now. “I do. But you’re not my only option. I will be fine even if you say no.”

Fern shook her head. “I’m happy to.”

Kurt nodded. “Liam, we’ll be right back. You just rest. Then we’ll get the police here and figure out who did this to you.”

Liam let his head fall back against his cupboard as Kurt and Fern disappeared. He felt oddly calm, and wondered if that was still Kurt’s influence. Even knowing that Kurt was off with someone else, drinking blood from them instead of Liam, didn’t bother him as much as it usually did. Kurt cared for him. Liam had known it, but right now he could feel it, and he thought Kurt could probably feel it back.

************

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My previous serials are for Good Omens: Mr. Fell's Bookshop and Love's Endless Light

My Carrd

#Dannye writes #original fiction #serial fiction #tollense #vampires #romance

[motherwasapapafucker]

You've obviously spoke about the Ghost as a Superman figure within the larger context of Doctor Who but do you think the opposite is possible? A Doctor-like figure within a larger superhero setting?

There's been a couple of attempts, never quite as....jarring as the Ghost but that’s pretty much down to mad scientists and time travel being far more commonplace in superhero settings than overtly super-heroic figures are in Who. To the point the handful of times Who has played with that (Conundrum, Starfall, The Return of Doctor Mysterio) all draw at least some of their story out of the jarring presence of a superhero figure within the narrative. There’s a really nice sequence in Conundrum where the Doctor “explains” the presence of the superpowered figures in a way that reads like he’s as much kidding himself because he would like to think it’s possible as genuinely trying to explain how these people have gained their abilities. Which really feels like a deliberate building on “I wish...I wish I believed in wishing wells” given how Conundrum plays out. There’s obviously the conflation of Captain Britain’s Merlin and Who’s Merlin a couple of times, but that’s really overstated even if only in terms of Britain’s Merlin functionally different beast to the point any doctor connection is largely a minor detail as any attempt at creating a Doctor-like figure. I think then, when it comes to your Doctor-like figure the big thing that would distinguish them from other standard mad scientists and science heroes is the face changing, and basically none of your overtly doctor-influenced characters actually do anything with? Your big one in a standard setting is Professor Gamble in Power Man and Iron Fist #79, who really stands out in terms of being the only doctor-lite comic figure overtly building on Classic Who rather than Cultural Juggernaut David Tennant Doctor Who. Some overlap with Dr. Mysterio’s use of the Ghost in the conflation of the real and fictional but in very different directions; Gamble writing a fictitious account of his own life, dreadlox a fictitious account of the Incinerators. Gamble’s personal Dalek-stand in born of rogue temporal cleaning devices that have decided destroying space and time is the only way to clean everything. Where the overlap falls apart is the fact that Power Man and Iron Fist is arguably a far more flexible book at that point in its history than Who is by the point of Doctor Mysterio. So #79 is less of an out of genre moment so much as just more weird shit happening to Danny and Luke. As far as I know Gamble has popped up here and there since then, and is one of a fairly sizable amount of Who references across Marvel/Marvel UK (Yeah yeah we all know about Death’s Head, W.H.O. and aw that pish) The other big, very very direct and direct to Cultural Juggernaut David Teannant Doctor Who is...weirdly…Qubit in Irredeemable. Which is barely relevant to this question because it’s really not a standard superhero setting beyond the superficial, but bares some comment given it’s arguably the most prominent of recent takes and really hard to ignore how much he’s just David Tennant with a James from Twin Peaks forehead and LEGION hair. Also worth commenting on how fucking strange his entire role in the arse end of Irredeeamble is given the final 20 or so issues largely devolve into “The Tenth Doctor fights Evil Superman.” Given how little that aspect is remarked upon, and how incongruous it is with the broader attempt at presenting an Evil Superman story that gradually pairs back to show that the character’s never really been evil superman because for him to have that “turn” you basically have to have it be the tip of an iceberg that sketches back decades and ultimate reveals the character was never really Superman in any way beyond the iconographic. So the fact that happens while he’s fighting David Tennant is really strange, though I do like so much of that spilling out of the Plutonian forcing Quibit into one of those big, painful NuWho moral decisions, but I really struggle to care about Irredeemable beyond thinking Incorruptible was generally the stronger book towards the end. You’ve also got things like the Allred/Slott Silver Surfer that overtly drew influence from contemporary

Doctor Who, but it’s building on an already distinctive character so it can never really function as a direct one for one. I know, vaguely, that Ben 10 had a Doctor Who figure. But having never watched the show I’m not sure how he appears within the show and tbh I don’t care enough to look into it. I suppose the thing is that Doctor-lite easily slides into a superhero setting without losing too much and without drawing too much attention to the homage while someone like the Ghost is, by basic nature, designed to be at least somewhat strange within the larger normality of the show’s present day. The closest point of comparison I can think of is something like Silver Sentry in TMNT; There’s really nothing in TMNT or Doctor WHo that precludes the existence of “proper” superheroes, nether show is exactly the height of realism but the sudden introduction of basically superman presents a fundamental shift in their respective idiosyncrasies. I imagine people would be tempted to draw a comparison between the Milligan Shade the Changing Man revamp under Vertigo and Who, and given it’s MIlligan I’m sure there was some influence their even if only in terms of an English-coded otherworldly figure who undergoes startling changes across the run, but tbh it’s basically a passing resemblance and kinda overlooks the fact that Shade kinda hilariously preempts a lot of where Who as a franchise goes during the 90s and 2000s. It’s presentation of Shade’s changes as far-more psychologically damaging than classic who’s regeneration compared to some overlap with how NuWho treats the event particularly, but also in terms of the EDAs there’s a fairly notable arc where Shade gives up his heart to cope with a torrent of emotional loss and devastated worlds. Make of that what you will. I still haven’t answered the fucking question have I, right since you’ve asked me you’re going to get my shite, because here’s how I’d do it. There’s only one way really, one word Metalek Because the fucking rule don’t they? Morrison’s first, best Dalek-homage. The Xenoformers from Galaxy X, sentient construction vehicles serving masters that no longer exist. Terraforming the Galaxy one world at a time. Bow before Metalek. So yeah, those guys exist and they’re fucking great. I have...more thoughts than I’d like to admit about the “Metalek Empire” that’s really just self-indulgent pish. But that’s DC comics. So they exist, and they present what’s probably the best approach to a Doctor-alike in a superhero setting. In the same way the Ghost might as well be Superman in a setting where he isn’t the soul focus, you’re Doctor Who figure might as well just be Doctor Who in a setting where, building on the fact the key elements aren’t that notable, they really don’t stand out that much, so what then? Well he’s the mad scientist, but a good mad scientist. Counterpart to all the lunatics and madmen with their metal monsters, who is he? Who’s the grant morrison character fighting the dreaded metalek menace when they aren’t intruding on Superman’s narrative? Who spent decades trapped on earth, leading a reformed STAR Labs into a strange, wonderful new world? It’s Leo Quantum isn’t it. Basically, Leo’s one of those characters like Lan-Shin in Smashes the Klan or John Henry Irons who click perfectly into place with the larger idea of Superman’s social network. And given I’m an egotist, I’m going to do what I like with him building out of that admittedly bullshit old idea he’s future lex back to repent. If the Ghost is a version of Superman who’s world exists in the shadow of the Doctor, Leo would be a version of the Doctor that exists in the Shadow of Superman. He’s not literally Lex, he’s your Kristin Wells/Legion/DC One Million figure, possibly a future Luthor, possibly the first child of the Luthor/Kent families coming together in the far off 42nd century. A temporal adventurer who’s early experiments caused all his potential futures to crash down on top of him, transforming him into a hypertime singularity. His technicolor dreamcoat crafted from fifth world

wondertech, regulating his body to ensure each hypertime strand gets its time in sun while keeping the darker fringes in line….most of the time. Or at least, that’s what I’d do, feel free to discard this as mental bastard bullshit.

#doctor who #comics #superman #superheroes #rambling bullshit #leo quantum #grant morrison #metaleks #irredeemable #dc comics #the ghost #the return of doctor mysterio #tmnt #silver sentry is pretty great tbh