#this post was originally a paragraph and it turned out i had way more to say abt this than i thought

[zeravmeta]

long winded whining underneath

saw that post abt the saberfaces and like while I can understand the point in like, a billion dollar company reusing a design/design element might not appear favorable and it isn't even that wrong to say they are squeezing their cash cow flagship character i fundamentally disagree because thats like the equivalent of complaining about jojo having every protagonist with a name that can be shortened to jojo or final fantasy always having reused monsters like bahamut

and this isnt even a "oh saber is good i swear!" type thing but like. fate's been around for almost two decades now and has had tons of media made with plenty of recurring motifs and thematics that are acknowledged by the writers who are incredibly vocal fans of the series so if you're going into a long established franchise and complaining about long standing injokes and long standing patterns it comes across less as poining out the flaws in a billion dollar company and more like you just dont like that you didnt get it at first? takeuchi samefaceness isnt a problem unique to takeuchi and there are thousands of artists who have the same issue and even then a bunch of the saberfaces werent even drawn by takeuchi at first (nero was wada and jeanne & mordred was konoe) so them playing off the saberface jokes with designs isnt even that agregious because even if they have similar colors you'd have to be reading it in bad faith to say that the fgo artoria and fgo jeannes takeuchi designs are the exact same. an artist can have a style to how they draw their characters and just because there is overlap does not automatically equate that to having lazy designs.

more than anything saberfacing is part of nasuverse iconography, when a character is a saberface it isnt just about selling the design it is in fact an intentional design choice that tells you about the themeing of the character. im not going to say that nasuverse lore is sacred because it definitely isnt and they are in fact just doing what they think is cool but when you have nasu literally adding a chapter for limbo because he thought hasendows design was so beautiful it shouldn't be limited to a single appearance and then had that expanded into one of the more popular story chapters that tells you that these are creators who do pay attention to the designs that go into their characters. the same applies to chica umenos oberon, to wada and redrops designs and so many more, they absolutely care about the art that goes into their series.

I'm not gonna tell you that you must absolutely do your homework to enjoy any piece of fate media we are all free to do literally whatever we want forever and -clenches fist- you can also enjoy it in any type of way even in a surface level way. but when you acknowledge that a series is long standing with deeper themes acknowledged by its long standing playerbase and that the writers have so much passion for their own work (for better or worse, again nasuverse is absolutely not immune to criticism), saying that it comes across as disingenuous to have a recurring character design injoke because its heavily popular now despite not being popular once upon a time in itself comes across as disingenuous. nasuverse stuff being born of niche doujin circles and still being in touch with those roots isnt some kind of disqualification of the existence of saberfaces or the reasons behind them. when we ask you to read fate stay night its literally because we want you to enjoy it More so that you can, in fact, understand why saberface is a thing to begin with. being a popular franchise nowadays doesnt remove any of that charm unless you're specifically ignoring them. we literally have bbs profile in fgo say 'if you want to understand her deal and the deal of other similar characters read fate extra ccc' (bb herself being a sakuraface) so like theyre fully forward about the most accessible entrypoint into the franchise having a ton of history behind it

#untagged bc i wont annoy op on their post and i Do get their point but. cmon man #this post was originally a paragraph and it turned out i had way more to say abt this than i thought

[chloessleepystories]

Rabbit Hole

Based on a true story

Zoe was slumped down in the back row of the classroom, scrolling through Tumblr on her phone instead of paying attention to the teacher. Like usual.

Oh, here’s a sexy picture to share. Here’s a gif to attach a few lines of dialogue to… She liked teasing the boys (and girls) online, and they liked teasing her. Especially when she was in class and couldn’t do anything about her rising horniness.

Oooh, a hypno story, her favorite. She checked that the teacher was droning on, and not looking her direction, and started reading. Just a couple paragraphs in, she knew it was a good one. She reblogged it to finish reading later, and to share it with her followers (her many, many followers… how had that happened?) and kept scrolling. Ooh! A spiral! Don’t get distracted… But uunnnfff, so easy to get distracted… to get drawn in…

She shook herself, sharing the spiral with a drooling smiley face, and moved on.

“I’m a little concerned, looking at your last batch of papers, that so many of you got to college without apparently learning how to punctuate a simple compound sentence, much less to fill it with original thoughts…” Miss Thompson was saying.

Zoe squeezed her thighs together, feeling the arousal spread through her body. She looked around. Nobody looking. Good. She knew she should be listening, should be taking notes, but all she could think about was her needy pussy.

The constant alerts from her phone kept drawing her back to the glowing rectangle in her hand. BUZZ. Another favorite blog had just shared something, Tumblr wanted her to know. BUZZ. Someone was tagging her in a pic of one of her favorite porn stars. BUZZ… 

She was powerless. She had to look, every time the phone buzzed. Every time Tumblr fed her more. She didn’t used to be like this, did she? She used to have, like, an attention span and stuff? Could leave her phone alone for a few hours? Now she was addicted… like she had conditioned herself to salivate at the buzzer. 

Or been conditioned, came a whisper. 

Been brainwashed. 

Cuntwashed.

Drippy cunt. Salivating pussy…

BUZZ. 

Ooh! a hot little gif that someone wanted her to see – “wanna ride me like this?” he asked, adding Zoe’s handle. Where was the teacher? Zoe knew she should scan for Miss Thompson again, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

BUZZ BUZZ. Three more guys wanting to talk to her privately. She was already keeping four conversations going…

This one, for instance, was telling her, in detail, what he would be doing to her if they were in a hotel room together right now. She was giving as well as she was getting, egging him on, hoping he was stroking to her words the way she wished she could be rubbing to his. This one was begging her to punish him, and reveling in her attempts to be domineering. And this one… oh, this one kept sending spirals, and inductive texts, drawing her ever downward (or trying to), making her sleepy, making her horny… making her a mindnumbed cockslave…

She tapped the little pencil symbol to make a public post.

“You guys are making me so horny!!!” she typed.

I’m supposed to be paying attention to the teacher right now but my tumblr feed is full of porn and 3 of you fuckers are having hot conversations with me trying to make me horny and IT��S FUCKING WORKING I’m sure my neighbors can smell me I’m so turned on I can feel how drippy I am goddammit I need to stroke I’m not gonna make it

That was a mistake, of course. As she knew it would be. The sharks smelled blood in the water, and circled.

“Just keep watching little slave. Soon you’ll be my little cock hungry whore”

“It’s just so nice to be able to turn off your brain for a while, ya know? Join me?”

“And when I say “horny bunny” you’ll have a powerful urge…”

“Mmm damn what a view! Your nice tight pussy wrapped around my cock feels so damn good. I’m going to enjoy fucking you hard, bottoming out hitting your womb”

“…And then one day you wake up and you’re an empty headed pink bimbo, with no thoughts in your dumb bimbo head but getting bigger tits and pleasing your Mistress’s pussy…”

Another public post:

Ogod now ur all piling on cumming our of the woodwork why csnt i turn off this app why do i keep lookin im not gonna make it im such a dumb hotny cow 

Sent.

And back to messaging, the words pummeling her brain –

Blank. Obedient. Responsive. Counting from 10. Letting your mind slide away. Relaxed. Empty. No thoughts. 8. Letting go….

Then, even before she could register the shadow over her desk, a hand snatched the phone from her fingers.

“You know the rules about phones in my class, Zoe,” said Miss Thompson. Zoe made a choked whimper, her fingers mindlessly twitching after the phone.

“You can get it back later. If you’re good.”

If you’re good. If you’re a good girl. Good girls obey.

Zoe whimpered again, as Miss Thompson walked away. She was going to have to sprint to the ladies’ room when class was over. The phone would have to wait. Her clit was throbbing… and she needed to obey.

*****

Later, after everyone had filed out, Miss Thompson carefully and (BUZZ) meticulously wiped clean the blackboard. She liked the board to be as neat (BUZZ) and tidy as her desk.

(BUZZ)

What on earth was – Oh. Right. That girl’s phone was still on the desk. Vibrating away, for some unknown reason.

She sat down and picked it up, turning it on. Silly child didn’t seem to have a lock on the –

A rainbow of porn leapt out of the screen and slapped Miss Thompson about the face.

Cocks going into young women’s mouths. A girl’s tongue on a pussy. “Zoe, are you still there?” Breasts, so many breasts. “Zoe, girl, look how hard you made me…” A maelstrom of dark and light flesh that she couldn’t make sense of for a moment, until she saw the caption “gangbanged fuckslut made airtight with BBC”… which, to be frank, didn’t ENTIRELY explain the picture to Miss Thompson, but it let her figure out what some of the shapes were…

Horrified, repulsed, Miss Thompson started scrolling. And couldn’t stop scrolling. Stories of incest and bondage. Lewd photos and gifs, scenes of decadence and degradation. She shook her head, her mouth open, but she couldn’t stop…

And the hypnosis. Over and over in the girl’s feed, the hypnosis! Glassy eyed girls with drooping mouths, baring their breasts… Women with spirals in their eyes, and cocks in their mouths… Flashing gifs with pictures and words, too fast to follow, telling her how she should be, how she must be, how she knew she already was, if she would just admit it to herself… Inductions, and fantasies, and more spirals, and submissive, drooling women, eager to serve cock, to serve pussy, to become slaves to their own needy cunts…

Miss Thompson hadn’t noticed how hard her nipples had gotten. She hadn’t noticed how wet her own cunt was, until she found herself dipping in a finger… She bucked against her hand, but didn’t stop stroking… just kept scrolling… 

Someone calling himself Master of Mystery – except with some of the letters replaced by numbers – BUZZed into a private message. “Getting pretty horny, Zoe? Pretty needy and desperate?”

“No,” she found herself typing. “I mean, no, I’m – I’m not… No.”

“Oh, you certainly sounded pretty desperate to me. You sounded like a little slut who needed permission to cum… A naughty fucktoy who can’t stop touching her princess parts even though she’s not supposed to…”

Miss Thompson bit her lip and with an effort pulled her hand away from her pussy. “I’m not Zoe. I am Miss Thompson, her teacher,” she typed.

She tried to pull herself together.

“And you should keep a civil tongue in your head, young man.”

“Ohhh! Naughty, naughty, teacher… Are you looking through a confiscated phone? And getting TURNED ON by someone else’s Tumblr porn? You are, aren’t you… Go ahead, you can admit it…”

“i” she typed and sent by mistake.

She cursed.

“I will do no such thing. I am… I am putting the phone down now.”

“No you’re not.”

She hesitated. He seemed so sure. She waited, panting.

“You won’t, because you would have already without saying anything. You would have before you got so horny scrolling through her feed.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Because you are horny, aren’t you? All pent-up, tied up in knots…”

“Yes, yes, I am, OK, but there’s nothing wrong with that”

“No, not at all. Tell you what. You seem tense. Let me help you relax. Can we do that?”

“Um”

“Just focus on your shoulders for a second. Feel how tight they are? Tighten them up even more, just for a second. Take a deep breath in. And then let it out, and as you do, feel all the tension go out of your shoulders…”

“what”

“Sshh shh you don’t have to say anything just listen. I’m going to count, and with each number you’re going to release a little tension, and it’s going to turn into warmth… warmth spreading through your body… 

“And then maybe we’ll look at a spiral together for a while… You’ll like that…”

*****

Zoe was feeling SO much better – though her legs were still a little wobbly – as she walked toward the classroom door. She couldn’t believe she’d left her phone behind! She hoped she could get it back quietly, without much fuss. There didn’t seem to be a class in there now. Maybe she could just slip in and grab it?

She eased the door open gently… and then almost dropped her backpack in surprise.

Miss Thompson was sprawled, nearly nude, in her wooden rolling chair! Her skirt was bunched around her middle, panties on the floor, white blouse and bra tangled on her desk. Most surprising of all, one hand was operating Zoe’s phone, and the other hand was operating Miss Thompson’s bushy cunt!

She stepped closer, sliding the backpack gently to the floor. The teacher’s breathing was ragged, her cheeks flushed, her eyes glassy… and sure enough, Zoe could see a spiral on the glowing screen. She tiptoed close enough to read over her shoulder.

You want to watch

To let the spiral suck you in

To let my spiral suck away all resistance

You want to become mindless for me, because it feels so good to stop thinking

Each word you read will bring you pleasure, and each second you spend watching will make you sink deeper and deeper, until you can’t help but obey…

She reached around her teacher’s body, and cupped both breasts at once.

Miss Thompson gasped, and then relaxed with a moan as Zoe began kneading her nipples.

“How are you doing, miss?” she whispered.

“Can’t… Can’t cum. Need to… but don’t… don’t have permission…”

“Mmmm.” Zoe tweaked her nipples, massaging her surprisingly full and warm tits. “I know it’s a lot to handle if you’re not used to it. I’ve been sliding into this rabbit hole a bit at a time for months, so I’ve built up a liiiittle bit of an immunity.” Partially true, anyway. “But my feed and my followers must have hit you like a ton of bricks.” 

Zoe giggled to herself, as her teacher panted.

“Who are you talking to,” Zoe murmured.

“M-Master of Mystery,” Miss Thompson gasped, her back arching.

Ah yes, thought Zoe. Also known as Kevin.

“Tell him I’m here. And ask him what I should do to you.”

“Master…” Miss Thompson typed, and after a moment, responded.

“He says to get on your knees and lick my s-slutty, juicy c… cunt.”

Zoe smiled. “That’s what I was hoping he was going to say,” she murmured as she knelt.

After all, she thought. Good girls obey.

[captainzigo]

Welcome to me blog

If you are a mutual, DM me for an invite to discord server and subsequently to minecraft server

if you aren’t a mutual, you can send DMs and asks to my sideblog @snapewife-divorce-lawyer

that’s a bunch of pictures of my oc(/ponysona) Prickly Pear. she’s a cowgirl

FAQ below the break

i do take requests. i do not currently take commissions, but don’t be shy about sending requests. i can always say no. or fuck it up really bad.

this is my art blog. you can send me asks and DMs at my other blog @snapewife-divorce-lawyer any asks you send me should be like Strongbad emails. one paragraph. no attachments. unless you are sending me refs.

i reblog most stuff at my other other blog: @3amgaypotion

you are fine to DM me, but remember i am not obligated to respond at all.

in any interactions, please keep in mind that i am a stranger on the internet and act accordingly

i am autistic. i say this because representation matters, but also because i would like to ask that you please be very frank with me. i don’t even really need your patience. just say what you mean and we will get along fine.

you most certainly can draw any of my ocs. i’d love that acually. tag me

you can redraw, dub or do whatever to my works with credit. i expect credit to include clickable links. also please try to keep the spirit of the original work. don’t add nsfw subtext for example. don’t redraw a ship art as a ship with an inappropriate age gap, and so on.

do not post my art on other platforms. do not repost my art period. I don’t really exist on other platforms since I deleted Twitter. So if you see my stuff on other platforms, it’s not me. 

i’m in my twenties. i keep my blog SFW as a strict rule. PG13 except i swear a lot more. i do not keep myself that way, and i have no aversion to that sort of content, but i keep all of my posts SFW.

in my opinion, all romance real or fictional should be between people who are not related, similar in age, doing age appropriate things, all with mutual consent. i am not interested in witnessing or interacting with anything outside of these parameters.

i am a trans woman. i am also bisexual. i am also poly and demi since im listing things. i am out online becasue i know how important it is to know that you aren’t alone.

if you follow me and you post art, regardless of frequency or perceived quality, i want to be mutuals. shoot me a message or something

do i take constructive criticism? NO 🖕👹🖕 FUCK YOU!!!!!!! GET BLOCKED IDIOT!! unless you are a marginalized person who feels i have unintentionally made you uncomfortable somehow with my art or otherwise. in that case i am sorry and you do me a great favor by calling me out. OTHERWISE FUCK YOU DUMBASS IF YOU DONT LIKE MY ART GO DRAW YOUR OWN 🖕🖕🖕🖕

i don’t have a DNI list, but i am pretty left politically so you can probably imagine what’s on there.

“i hate bronies” i don’t necessarily hate you if you self identify with that label. i like to make myself off-putting to keep creeps away

i don’t hold a lot of nostalgia for old brony stuff. infact it’s quite the opposite

i like all generations of mlp including the new stuff. gen 4 is just the one i grew up with

why is my header aurora, bori and alice from the best gift ever? well that would be because i hate them like a mother hates a child. like the sun hates the moon. like sickly victorian child hates the slightest morsel of bread.

i often draw stuff about cozy glow x flurry heart. this is with the understanding that cozy glow spends about a decade turned to stone. nullifying the age gap.

i am dyslexic. i spell stuff wrong all the time and i type weird. please don’t bother correcting me. wooptydoo your brain is wired normally. sending you a medal.

i’ve had the same username since i debuted on the internet. zigo is the name of an oc i made that i dont really talk about anymore. zigo is a fine enough nickname and at least one person calls me that irl

#prickly pear #my ocs

[dumbfridge]

hey!!! if you enjoy varian and the seven kingdoms please stop scrolling for just a moment!!!!

so i know there are multiple fanfiction creators who have written their own versions of vat7k and i love and have read each and every one of them

i decided i wanted to join in on the fun and so i’ve been working on my own version of vat7k for over a year now

i’ve split it into three books plus a prequel and a sequel. each book (minus the prequel & sequal) have 22 chapters each. the prequel & sequel will have around 1-10 chapters (it depends on how long the written portion is)

i wanted to make my series have a similar vibe to an actual tv show so the chapters will be posted as if they are episodes. for example, one chapter will be lore based and another will be similar to a filler episode.

sadly, i’m still working on it and it probably won’t be done anytime soon but i do have a decent portion of it created. i have an idea for what to put into each chapter and am working on the details of each chapter. i’ve also written a few snippets here and there and here’s one from the prequel, After Ever After:

Varian’s pacing. He knows he’s pacing but by the Sun, he’s angry. For years, he’s wanted to know more about his mother. For years, he’s begged to hear stories about her. For years, he’s lived off of the small scraps that his father gave to him, only to learn that he has been keeping a key component about his mother from him.

His mother’s journal sits before him on Xavier’s table, a deep forest green with a symbol engraved upon it. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it's mocking him. Just when he made peace with the fact that nothing will ever change in Corona, this journal pops into existence as a big “fuck you!” to Varian’s mental wellbeing.

Xavier has been watching him patiently, having already picked his way through the journal. Varian stubbornly refuses to be the one to speak first but Xavier is just staring at him, his eyes following the path Varian is making into his floor.

Varian doesn’t speak for several more seconds before he demands: “So? What does it mean? What are the Seven Trials and why was my mom so obsessed with it?”

“Ah, yes, the Seven Trials,” Xavier enunciates. He rubs his chin as a faraway look passes over his face. “It is an old tale but one worth revisiting.”

“Oh, would you quit it?” Varian snaps. He stops pacing and stands across from Xavier, arms crossed and his foot tapping the ground repeatedly. “I really don’t want a long winded explanation right now.”

Xavier chuckles. “Very well. I will keep my story short. The Seven Trials were a test made long ago by Demanitus himself.”

Varian’s foot falls with a final thump. “Demanitus? My mom followed his studies too?”

“It would seem so.” Xavier gently picks up the journal and flicks through the pages. He stops about midway through the book and turns it for Varian to see. “And it also seems like she got very close to her goal.”

The entry on the page is annoyingly vague. The main phrases he gets from it are words he’s already read when he skimmed through it earlier. “The Eternal Library” particularly stands out to him. He could have sworn he heard it somewhere before.

When he rereads the paragraph, though, he puts together pieces that he had taken for granted before. Most of it doesn’t make any sense because she’s using key words only she obviously knows but Varian gets the gist of it. She completed all of the trials and found the location of the Eternal Library.

that’s all i have for that right now

if you have any questions, feel free to ask

and if you have suggestions, i’d be happy to hear them! i can’t promise any of them will make the cut but if they do, i’ll make sure to credit whoever’s idea it originally was

thank you for reading! if any of you are interested i might be able to post more snippets of it

#varian and the 7 kingdoms #varian and the seven kingdoms #vat7k #varian tts #varian #varigo #hugo vat7k #nuru vat7k #yong vat7k

[jccatstudios]

I have been following your soc comic adaptation and it just so good!!! I love how you draw them!

I have just one question: Why did you not include Inej's opening musings about Kaz on the first page? (Kaz Brekker didn't need a reason etc) I actually really like how there is not text on the first two pages, it's really atmospheric and moody so this really is not a criticism, I don't want to insult you. I guess I was just wondering what the thought process behind that was?

Oh, I've been wanting to talk about this for a while! Buckle up, this is gonna be one of my long comic rants. (Also, no offense taken at all! Anyone's welcome to question my artistic choices and I'm always happy to take critique, even though that isn't your intention.)

So, the thing is I actually planned on including that first paragraph into the comic! Here's when I first shared the thumbnails on here. Just for the sake of this post, I'll insert them here too.

The boxes are meant to be where excerpts of that introduction would go. When I was creating the thumbnails, I was thinking about how iconic these lines were and how well they introduce the world and characters. I even finished the pages with the intention to include those lines. This is from my original csp file.

When I lettered it all out, I felt like something wasn't right...? Hard to explain. I wanted silence for the opening and the narration took that away. I then thought about the reader who'd go into this without reading the novel first, wondering if they'd be thinking, Who's this Kaz Brekker guy? Is it this character on the page? It's clearer in the book, but I didn't think it paired well with what I drew. I didn't want any confusion. It's also Inej's chapter, and while Kaz's parts take up most of it, I still wanted it to feel like her POV and her story. We can hold off officially meeting Kaz until page four.

But the main reason I took it out comes down to my philosophy when it comes to comic adaptations. I believe that an adaptation should use the original story in the best way for the secondary medium. A comic adaptation should play to the strength of comics, not the original source material.

Time and time again, I see a lot of comic adaptations of books try to use a book's strength instead of a comic's. When that happens, you get pages upon pages of narration boxes and exposition that could've easily been told in a single panel's image. If you want to read excerpts from the original novel, go do that! They're beautiful and well-crafted and you should be reading the original anyway! If you're making a comic adaptation, make a comic, not an illustrated version of the novel (that's a whole field of its own).

This whole thing really ties well into what I'm doing for Chapter 3. Kaz is such an internal character, his chapters have a lot more exposition that isn't setting description or character actions. I've had to do a lot more of my own writing for this chapter than the last just to turn that exposition into his own voice as an internal monologue. Sometimes, it's just a change from "he" to "I," but there are other times I've had to write new dialogue and find ways to naturally flow between thoughts. If I didn't do the work to adapt the expository text and instead just put in narration boxes of text from the book, there would be a greater disconnect between the reader and Kaz. Third-person limited works great in books and doesn't separate the readers from the story, but in comics, first-person internal dialogue keeps the readers inside the scene better.

If I were to redo Chapter 2, I think I would try to find a way to incorporate the information from the chapter intro better. I think by losing the intro I initially planned to include, I didn't establish certain ideas very well. Ketterdam and Kerch are established later on pages 4 and 5, but I don't think I ever go back and mention The Barrel. Also, the idea that Kaz is deliberate, even if his reputation says otherwise, is important too. I've made sure to fix this kind of issue in Chapter 3 and keep record of what kind of information I'm losing as I adapt it.

#comic rant over! #thanks for the ask I really love talking about this stuff #soc comic adaptation #asks #comics talk

[songoftrillium]

Well, well, well, if it isn’t the consequences of my actions before me. 

I am delighted to announce that Dead Mountain's release, initially slated for Halloween 2023, has been delayed!!! 

Wait, what?

This post is enormous, but please take the time to read it. Likes don’t increase visibility to others! Please reblog this to spread the word! 

When I started this project, my stance on Werewolf: the Apocalypse underwent a series of evolutions between then and now. In short, Dead Mountain, a chronicle meant to simultaneously provide a game module and queer inclusivity at gaming tables, has grown beyond its original design and size and into something much bigger and bolder than what I initially set out to do. It has become a more significant task than one person can accomplish alone. Of course, I could delay Dead Mountain's release a few months to get it completed, and I will still be releasing it standalone eventually.  I could also put it out, but what would come out would fall short of presenting Werewolf in a way I feel does the game justice.

In many ways, nothing changes; it just happens later. In its current form, however, Werewolf: the Apocalypse doesn’t provide a game that fully supports the scale and inclusivity this chronicle demands. The project rapidly ballooned the chronicle into something more resembling a corebook; while fun to imagine, it is more than I initially set out to accomplish. The volume of literature needing redrafts and the need for this to be a single chronicle alone are at odds with each other, and more than one person can write independently.

I plan to reapproach this in a way that has the team excited, and I think this will excite you, too. See the rest below the cut.

As work on Dead Mountain progressed and drew closer to completion, the things I needed to include to make it happen in a way that did its subject matter justice grew beyond its original scope. The more aspects of inclusivity, culture, and story that turned up missing from the newest edition out of the occasional paragraph, the more I came to realize that if I wanted Werewolf: the Apocalypse to represent what good I see in it, I needed to also make the game itself presented in a fundamentally different way than it has before. 

I have a challenge to World of Darkness writers: 

New players should only have to read for no longer than an hour to start coming up with character concepts. 

Every Werewolf corebook put to print is falling short of that goal. It would be unjust to force players to wade through the old literature to explore all the game has to offer, and I think y’all deserve better. The tribes they read about should focus less on everything wrong with them out of the starting gates and provide players and storytellers with something worth fighting for and motivates them to action.

Over the past few weeks, we have realized that the things we need to include to do justice to the subject matter of Dead Mountain have grown beyond the project's original scope. We want to ensure the game is inclusive, culturally representative, and accessible to new players. Given the available core literature released with the latest edition lacking coherent structuring, our writing has had to balloon beyond a typical RPG supplement size to provide a functional game representative of, and relevant to, queer culture. Therefore, we have decided to delay the game's release by one year to Halloween 2024. This extra time will allow us to create a game that meets our high standards and provides an enriching experience for all players, and make Werewolf: the Apocalypse a more accessible game, particularly regarding accessibility to new players and storytellers. 

My goal is simple: Nobody new to the World of Darkness and Werewolf with an 8th-grade reading comprehension level should do more than an hour’s reading (10,000 words) to comprehend Werewolf: the Apocalypse well enough to start thinking up character concepts. New players shouldn’t have to wade into problematic legacy literature to get the specifics of Garou society or to seek cultural representation. Storytellers should have guidelines on creating chronicles with their players and interlinking them with stories. 

A series of players guides and storyteller handbooks intended to streamline the flow of information to the reader, sorted by Garou ranks, both in terms of gaming power levels and depth of information relevant to Garou of that rank. New players want to know how to make new characters. Storytellers wish to know the kinds of NPCs appropriate to characters of that power and how to run games. This is not a corebook but a series of reference guides intended to keep the depth of the world we all love in the legacy game in an easily navigated format while only revealing the most pertinent information for a given Garou’s rank and a ready-to-go adventure to pair with that game ranking. With each successive release, more information about the world of the Garou, Garou society, their enemies, and the complexity of available storytelling tools will also evolve to grow the game in tandem with players and storytellers.

Book 1: Cliath — Contains enough information for new players and storytellers to get started, focusing on character generation, Rites of Passage, and culture.

Book 2: Fostern — Expanded Garou powers for the ‘citizenry and society (and not-so-nice things that happen in the background that they keep hidden from the cubs and cliath) of the Garou. 

Books 3: Adren — Explodes into an anthology of Tribebooks with expanded powers and tribal customs and detailed septs, camps, and factions vital for any Adren fighting for Gaia.

Book 4: Athro — exploration of spirit and history. The secrets that bind society and a more lucid view of what elders in the Garou Nation face, with expanded Garou stats covering both rank 4 and 5.

Book 5: Elder — The Storytellers guide, focusing on world-building and running one's own chronicles in the World of Darkness.This puts all prior ST info in one place with a master index and any extra systems errata needed.

Our small team consists of seasoned storytellers, writers, and werewolf academics working on making Werewolf more accessible to new players. We’ve been researching, playing, or running inclusive Werewolf tables for over 60 years combined, and are self-taught experts in everything Werewolf. Everyone on this project deeply loves the game and sees its inherent value and well-meaning beneath its 90s liberal veneer. Many of us have spent decades perfecting our craft and knowledge of this game, and we want the rest of you to see the Werewolf that we see in the pages.

We are using By Night Studios' edition of Mind’s Eye Theater: Werewolf as a baseline reference for this project. Much work has already been done to bring inclusivity to the game and encourage character investment in the world, and translating that to the tabletop will be a more inclusive baseline to utilize than any other corebook. We will continue the metaplot of Werewolf: the Apocalypse, with a handful of changes to tribes and factions of Garou. Due to the MET systems translations needing to be done, we still have our work cut out for us and plenty of writing to do. This game will be shifting the formatting to prioritize ease of identifying information pertinent to players versus storytellers while prioritizing keeping culture, mechanics, or cross-edition compatibility as best we can with updated sensibilities.

Stay tuned for another post this afternoon to learn more about our first upcoming book in the series!

#world of darkness #werewolf: the apocalypse #dead mountain #werewolf the apocalypse #werewolves #world building #hearthbound

[signedjehanne]

dear white bandom tumblr, what the hell do you want us to say?

i’m tired. i’m really, really tired. 

look, what do you want us to say at this point? this was supposed to be a safe space, for the freaks and the outcasts, but we’ve long established that it is very much not safe. it’s crystal fucking clear.

and honestly, pretty much every white user on here is actively contributing to the hostility here. whether you like it or not, it’s not good to only reblog empty reassurances of anti-racism that do more service to yourself than to others. it’s not good to see poc on the dash trying to educate the white majority and doing everything possible to educate you, and either A) ignore it, B) like it, but don’t reblog it, because god forbid you sit with your discomfort for more than five seconds, or C) send racist anon hate to the original poster, or try to deflect their points. it’s not good to see something racist and let it slide. let me get this straight: none of these fans of color owe you anything. fans of color don’t owe you the time of day, fans of color don’t owe you education, and fans of color don’t owe you the dignity of a levelheaded reply in response to your racist comments. 

often times, we try to educate because we want this space to change. i mean, i didn’t have to write a five paragraph essay dissecting anti asian racism in mcr’s content. i did it because i was angry, and tired, and frustrated, and wanted the space to change. the same reason that every other ignored dissection and analysis that spent blood, sweat, tears, and emotional labor to make was created. a lot of the time you guys just don’t understand how much effort things like that take. and to be clear, this is not just the usual “oh my post didn’t go viral and i’m not a celebrity i’m so sad,” this is “i poured all of myself into trying to educate people that turned out to never care. i have been blatantly shown that the people around me aren’t interested in changing, no matter how much they claim to be.” 

and like, do you want me and countless other users to go in depth again? do you want us to jump from racist incident to racist incident? to hold your hand through explaining why making art of ray being arrested is bad, why gerard’s fetishization of asian people is bad, why making rising sun art and designs is bad, why reducing all of pete wentz’s work to being about mikey way is bad, why shaming people with non-european features for “not looking emo enough” is bad, why insulting and degrading pete and ray for their natural features is bad, why cropping ray out of tour videos is bad, why calling people slurs in their askboxes is bad? (and so much more that i didn’t add.) do you want us to go over the history of racism in alternative spaces as a whole? do you expect us to do all of those things for you on a whim, to make it palatable to you, as if we weren’t real people with real feelings behind the screen and as if we had infinite time and emotional energy? really? when there are many resources already out there, both online and offline? 

what all this tells me is you don’t see us as human. simple as that. you expect us to be able to take the abuse, to be able to silently let your racism pass, and if we ever speak up, you ignore the work we give to you and demand inhuman feats of patience and generosity, answering your every question and responding to your every debate and coddling you as you refuse to sit with the reality of the space you’ve helped to create. and that’s only if you claim to be on our side. 

it’s insane hearing you try to placate yourselves. trying to mindlessly agree without looking inward. i know this sounds harsh, but i know that most of you need to hear it. i just want this space to actually change, like i was begging for back in january and february. of course, i was foolish to believe that it ever would. and i’m foolish now, writing this as if people are ever going to pay attention. even if it does break a few hundred notes, it’s not like the message is going to stick around. sure, you’re “doing the work”, “listening and learning”, but how am i supposed to know that when your responses never change, and this scene stays the same as it ever was?

#seb speaks #mcr #fob #my chemical romance #fall out boy #gerard way #frank iero #ray toro #mikey way #pete wentz #bandom racism #racism cw #long post #prematurely turning asks and replies off #if you want to say something say it with your chest. #i'm literally terrified to post this because i KNOW white fans will be mad about #having to sit with discomfort #but. idk it needs to be said #if you don't hear from me for a while just know that the pressure from them got too much #this wasn't sparked by anything in particular i had just been noticing it for ages and ages and got fed up as usual

[queerlilchinchin]

Chinchin's WiYS Stream Official Post

This is the official post announcing my Write in Your Style writing stream.

--

Hello, everyone! Welcome and thank you for your interest in my Write in Your style writing stream.

Stream Description:

To start off, let me describe to you what I envision this stream to look like. Twice a month (every 1st and 3rd Tuesday), I will be getting on my writing streams. Probably somewhere around noon Pacific Standard Time. I will be starting the streams with that stream's strip of writing, then I will read the last stream's submissions.

Of course, I've got to start somewhere, so the first stream will be announcing the start of the streams as well as giving the first prompt. I will be doing livestreaming on twitch, which will then be downloaded and posted on youtube and tik tok. You are welcome to join me on my livestreams. I will open the stream up to questions at the end. It can be questions about the prompt or the concept or whatever else pertaining to the streams.

How to submit writing:

I will likely be making a new blog for it, though I already have a lot of blogs. This blog will be mostly for asking questions about the streams and gaining more interest in them. You may also submit here if you don't wish to e-mail yours to me, which will be the other way. Any submissions left via comments will not be used simply because I don't want to make it easier for others to steal your writing or risk anything like that.

Stream Start Date:

The streams will officially start beginning of December, so the 5th will be the first stream (unless something happens to prevent it starting on time).

Days of the week that the streams occur may change due to my life circumstances being kind of up in the air right now. I'm looking for new work, so my days off may change.

How writing works:

I've had some questions about how exactly the writing part will work and how long you all will have to write. As the streams are bi-weekly, you will have nearly 2 weeks to submit your writing. They will be short pieces of writing, so it shouldn't take terribly long to finish them.

For now, it will only be my original writing that will be used, but as time goes on, I may open up the streams to other writers who wish to also submit their own writing for the original writing for others to rewrite in their own styles.

You may write them however you wish to. It just has to be the same story as the original put in your own way (don't turn a romance about a valkyrie and a demigoddess into a horror about the two characters). You're just recreating the writing, just like draw in your style.

Who can write:

Absolutely anyone is more than welcome to write. I will be reading your submissions for now, but as I figure out the features of streaming, I may open up the floor to writers reading their own writing if they wish. I will also be giving credit in any form you wish (if you just want your name or your tumblr blog or your Wattpad/AO3 accounts linked).

Stream Account Links:

Gotta link you guys to the accounts that will be posting the streams!

YouTube

Twitch

TikTok

Blog

@wiys-streaming

Ending Statements

WiYS streams are really a way to showcase and remind writers that we all have our own style of writing, even if it seems like you don't. You are capable of taking a story that was already written and make it your own (not that I'm encouraging copying, but you know what I mean... hopefully). Being a writer can be really disheartening sometimes, especially when you feel like your ideas aren't original, but sometimes the most unoriginal ideas can be home to the most incredible stories. Cliches are/were popular for a reason. Tropes become tropes for a reason. People love what they love and if they love the thing that you are making that is so "unoriginal," they will love your writing.

Don't forget that originality is not synonymous to good. Or creative. You can write something "trite" and make it incredible. I hope that this new stream will remind writers of that. :)

Thank you for your time and if you have questions, please feel free to send them to @queerlilchinchin.

WiYS "tag me to everything" taglist: @nerd-in-distress, @jvten, @steh-lar-uh-nuhs (fyi, tumblr won't let me tag your other blog or I would have), @aether-wasteland-s, @mjrino, @cheezyratz, @accountusername, @perasperaadastrawriting, @mrblazeflappybird, @forthesanityofstorytellers, @mangofen, @bigwipscholar, @pluttskutt, @doublegoblin, @crazytechpersonzreal, @sitiart, @ashesinthewritten, @achildweanedonpoison6, @quotidian-oblivion, @world-of-my-imagination, @marmeegle, @alesseia

WiYS "tag me to important stuff" taglist: @distortedwhite, @lyssentome, @ah0yh0y, @grollow, @perlen-gold, @saltysupercomputer, @vshushmshu, @lordkingsmith, @gummybugg, @quisyop, @enne-uni, @cometkov, @shado48, @cryscal, @mary-is-writing, @elizababie, @squintclover, @schmem14, @foursixtwonineoh-pieces-of-lego, @wakkoroni

#official announcement #wiys #wiys streams #writing streams #writer streams #writers of tumblr #writeblr

[ganymede-princess]

Midnight At Noonday | Dead Poets

PART 2 | PART 3

ship: Surprise! x fem!OC

warnings: none... yet (muahahaha)

summary: Clare Keating is given the opportunity to attend the prestigious all-boy's preparatory school Welton Academy. Boy-mad and in denial, she must navigate friendships, crushes, and academics, all while helping to run the school's underground poets club.

word count: 2949

a/n: Hi guys, this chapter was originally written in third person, but I changed it to first person. I have read through it MANY times to ensure that the pronouns all make sense, and used control F, but it seems that some continue to slip through the cracks. I am very sorry if any mistakes remain after I have posted this notice. (Also this was originally published on AO3!)

written by @ganymede-princess

There would be no flowers for Welton’s first female student. The only welcome I received was a short paragraph at the end of the Welton annual letter including my surname and the promise to any concerned parents that the faculty would not let my presence distract their sons from their studies. I was to keep my head down, study hard, and make no sudden moves, lest I be transferred to Henley Hall, leaving my father behind. I don’t offer you this position lightly, Miss Keating. Mister Nolan’s voice plagued my thoughts. Don’t make me regret where I place my faith. My breath seemed to catch on a thorn in my throat, and I lost my grip on my heavy suitcases that thumped to the floor on either side of me. My vest was scratchy, blouse stiff with too much starch, blazer too thick around the neck and boiling hot, skirt too long, shoes too tight… I thought of my father down at the gates, ‘holding the fort,’ which no doubt meant fighting for my thin claim to a place in the most exclusive boys’ preparatory school in the United States; pleading my case, charming the parents, dying inside.

“That’s the Keating girl!”

The raucous hallway chatter trickled to a whisper as the boys drew in around me.

“Yeah, from the newsletter.”

“You sure?”

“Who else could it be, dummy?”

I tore my eyes from the floor to see dozens of boys stealing glances at me as they passed, and a few outright gawking.

“Doesn’t she look like a barrel o’ laughs?” One of them hissed.

“What does she need two suitcases for?”

“Special treatment.”

I tried to speak, but my teeth were somehow glued together. I tried to walk, but my feet were cast in concrete.

“Hey, get out of the way, would you?” Someone bumped into my back. “You’re taking up the whole hallway!” 

I turned, arms stiff and mouth dry to see a frowning young man with a froggish mouth and a face full of orange freckles. I tried to apologise, but only a thin trickle of air escaped my throat.

“Oh, you’re Keating’s daughter! Hi, how ya going? I’m Richard Cameron.” His hand shot up to smooth his auburn flat top. He paused, eyebrows raised for an answer. “Oookaaay.” He looked at me like I was crazy, and I feared he might be right. “You really oughta move, you’re gonna get trampled.”

“Clare.” I whispered to his back as it disappeared into the crowd. “My name’s Clare.”

Regaining my voice lent me a small burst of energy, just enough to pick my cases back up and hobble a few more steps down the hall. My arms burned with the effort and my lungs seemed far too small. I gritted my teeth and closed my mind to the hushed gossiping happening right in front of me. Just a few more steps, surely my room would be just around this bend. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. The hallway led to yet another hallway. Surely I should just sit down and die of heatstroke, right? I'll just leave my spirit here, cursed to eternally wander this academic desert...

“...the Keating girl…” Over the ruckus I heard a fragment of the Cameron boy’s voice. “Well… pretty enough… idiot savant or something!”

My stomach turned over. What was wrong with me? I strained to remember if I had hit my head some time between breakfast and the welcome ceremony and turned visibly stupid. The humiliation was almost too much to bear, and I felt my knees on the verge of buckling.

“Hey, excuse me?” Just as my heart was about to break, another soft voice spoke up, leaving me no time at all to wallow in self pity. “Would you like some help with your bags?” The voice belonged to another red-head, this time with a kindly, mouse-ish face and big browline glasses. He smiled soothingly when I failed to respond and gestured to my bags. “My friends and I would be happy to help you.”

“Uh-th-” I pressed my lips together and swallowed hard against the urge to vomit. “That’s okay.”

“Hey, they must weigh a ton! We don’t mind, really.” Two more boys appeared at the red-head’s side, the taller one spoke up and took no time to pick up the bag at my left, making a little ‘oof’ sound as he stood up.

“Thank you, y-you really don’t have to.”

“Charlie, help her out would you?” The red-head hit his shorter friend on the arm insistently.

“Is that an order, Meeks?” The friend quirked an eyebrow.

“You wanna fail Latin? No. So pick the bag up. I’m sorry about this.” He addressed me again, placing a solemn hand on his heart. “My name is Steven Meeks, this is Knox Overstreet-”

“Hi, there.” The taller boy took a step forward and nodded. He had the sort of dorky casanova spirit in his hazel eyes and lop-sided smile that was unmissable.

“-and-”

“Charlie.” He sidled up, arranged his face in a smouldering smirk, and offered his hand to shake. “Dalton.”

“It’s very nice to meet all of you.” I was very glad to have my voice back, though I nearly lost it again when Charlie swooped in and kissed the back of my hand. I snatched it away and cast a fearful glance up and down the hallway, thankfully seeing no teachers or hall monitors. “You can’t do that! What if somebody saw?”

“What if?” His cocky smile faltered as his eyebrows furrowed.

“They’d transfer me to Henley Hall!”

“Oh.” His face fell.

“Anyway, Miss Keating,” Steven stepped in to put us back on track, calming me with his even temper. “We’re on our way to visit our good friend Neil Perry to organise a study group for this semester. Would you like to join us?”

“Oh, sure.” A genuine smile grew on my face, the first since I had arrived at Welton. “I’d really appreciate that, thank you. And please, call me Clare.”

“No problem, Clare.” He put a gentle hand on my shoulder to show me the way, but the moment was brief and clandestine.

“You got a speciality?” Knox grunted as he lugged the suitcase along.

“Knoxious, her father’s the English teacher.” Charlie rolled his eyes, voice tense with effort.

“Well, sure, but maybe she hates English, and that’s why!”

“I-I don’t. I’m happy to cover English, but I can also do History if you need me to.”

“You’re in.” Charlie winked. “But no way are you doing History. That’s mine. I can’t be a total free-loader now, can I?”

“I suppose not.”

We shuffled along the hall until we came to a room mid-way along. Charlie and Knox dropped my bags by the door and the three boys crowded around the doorway, waiting for whoever was inside to notice them. I pushed my thumb into my palm, waiting on the outskirts of the group.

“Rumour has it,” Charlie pointed an accusatory finger into the room. “You did summer school.”

“Yep, chemistry.” I propped myself onto my tiptoes, trying to see over the group. “My father thought I should get ahead. How’s your summer, Slick?”

“Keen.” Charlie took a sauntering step forward, earning half a laugh from Steven. He stepped into the room and tossed over his shoulder, “Meeks, door, closed.”

I took note of Charlie and Meek’s strange dynamic of mutual bossiness, and decided I liked this old married couple. Steven and Knox heaved my cases into the room, sliding one into a free space behind the right side closet and the other beside the desk on the left, while I slipped in quietly and closed the door, feeling much safer with no prying eyes on me. I quickly relieved myself of my blazer and hung it over my arm.

“What’s all this?” The boy with the dark hair- Neil, I supposed- poked one of the cases with his toe.

“Oh, Neil, this is Clare Keating.” Steven spoke up, his hand genially placed on my upper arm.

“Oh, I���m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” The prettiest boy I had ever seen stooped down and took my hand, shaking it delicately. “I’m Neil Perry.”

“I’m Cl- It’s um, nice to meet you Neil… Perry.” I stumbled, transfixed by two dark eyes under two thick eyebrows, the colour of stained oakwood.

“Aw jeez, here we go.”

“Shut up, Charlie.” Neil said evenly, barely tossing a glance at him. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

He stepped away and stood by the radiator beneath the window, the autumn sun forming a halo on his sooty hair. The room seemed to blur and disappear behind his radiance, like a soft focus photograph. I had never felt embarrassed by a person's beauty until that moment.

“Gentlemen, what are the four pillars?”

“Travesty!” They all chanted, Knox shushing them frantically. “Horror! Decadence! Excrement!”

I found myself giggling at their antics, feeling a swell of gratitude to have found such a kind group of people in such a frightening place. Neil grinned at me as they all found places to sit, sending a current of electricity through my heart. I suddenly found myself with a huge excess of energy, and feeling it would be a bridge too far to sit on a stranger’s bed- there being no seats left- settled for standing at Steven’s side.

“Okay, study group.” Charlie got down to it. “Meeks aced Latin, I didn’t quite flunk History, and Clare here has gotta be an English whizz; so, if you want, we got our study group.”

“Sure. Cameron asked me too.” Neil said, a little reluctantly. “Anyone mind including him?”

I wished I could speak up about overhearing his insult earlier, but I couldn’t bring myself too. Instead, I promised myself I would try to give the boy a second chance, now that I had my voice back.

“What’s his specialty, bootlicking?” Charlie rolled his eyes and sparked a cigarette.

“He’s your roommate.” Neil fired back.

“That’s not my fault.”

“Uh, I’m sorry, my name is Steven Meeks.” Ever the gentlemen, Steven introduced himself to a young man that had gone entirely unnoticed by me. I felt ashamed to have brushed over him so easily, but how could I blame myself under circumstances like these?

“Oh, this is Todd Anderson.” Neil reached over to tap the boy encouragingly on the back. The boys all exchanged handshakes and pleasantries, leaving me as the last.

“I’m Clare Keating.” I shook his hand, feeling it cold and clammy to the touch. “It’s nice to meet you, Todd.”

“Nice to meet you.” He muttered, face red beneath his freckles, and shied away quickly.

“Todd’s brother was Jeffrey Anderson.” Neil stated, as if I should be impressed.

“Oh, yeah sure!” Charlie saved me the embarrassment. “Valedictorian. National Merit scholar.”

I thought of my father, the Welton honours graduate, Cambridge educated, published poet, well-liked by all… Tough shoes to fill.

“Welcome to Hell-ton!” Steven exclaimed.

“It’s every bit as tough as they say,” Charlie said gravely. “Unless you’re a genius, like Meeks.”

“He flatters me. That’s why I help him with Latin.”

“And English, and trig.” Charlie interrupted himself with a cough.

A knock came on the door. All in a second, an Oxford shoe ground out the cigarette and kicked it under Neil’s bed, I disappeared into the wardrobe, stepping onto the suitcase laying at the bottom, and drew the curtain across and held my breath. I had no idea where my sudden instinct for rebellion had risen from, but I was thankful for it when the door creaked open and an authoritative footstep sounded on the floor outside.

“Father,” Neil’s voice cracked. “I thought you’d gone.”

I heard my new friends form a chorus of ‘hello, Mr Perry,’ and scramble to their feet. I held a hand over my mouth to quiet my breathing.

“Keep your seats, fellas, keep your seats.” An older man’s voice said genially. “Neil, I’ve just spoken to Mr Nolan. I think you’re taking too many extracurricular activities this semester, and I’ve decided that you should drop the school annual.”

“But, I’m the assistant editor this year.” My heart nearly broke at the distress in his voice.

“Well, I’m sorry Neil.” Mr Perry’s voice carried a challenging undercurrent.

“But, father, I can’t! It wouldn’t be fair!” Neil’s voice raised frantically.

“Fellas, would you excuse us a moment?”

A silence fell and I held my breath as the pair stepped past my hiding place on the way out. Too terrified to move, I stayed where I was, hearing their argument muffled through the wall. After a few moments, it seemed Neil’s father had departed and the rest of the boys had made their way over to comfort him. I had never been so grateful for my father. Yet, I still failed to move, frozen at the thought that the old ghoul might be staring right at me if I pulled away the curtain. After a few moments, a hesitant hand pulled back the fabric to reveal Neil’s sweet little roommate who seemed so uninterested in making friends.

“Um, h-he’s gone.”

“Thanks, Tom.” I stepped down and gave him a grateful smile. “That was scary, huh?”

“U-um…” Tom went beet-red and wide-eyed, stammering like words were hot food in his mouth.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was this your suitcase? I didn’t mean to step on it, it just sort of happened. I don’t think I broke it.”

“N-no, I…”

“Well, uh, Latin?” Steven and the others stepped back into the room, interrupting us. “Eight o’clock in my room?”

“Yes.”

“Sounds good.”

“Todd, Clare, you’re welcome to join us.” Steven addressed us. My heart sank.

“Yeah, come along guys.” Knox spoke up.

“Thanks.” Todd nodded, eyes still wide.

“Thank you, I’ll be there.” I promised, and as the others filed out, I turned to Todd and grimaced sheepishly. I had my voice back, for sure, and now a torrent of words poured out of me. “Oh, jeez, Todd, I’m sorry. I’m terrible with names, I really am. I really blew it didn’t I? I’m so sorry, I’ll make it up to you somehow, I promise.”

“It-it’s okay.” He nodded, smiled stiffly, and sat down at his desk with his back to me.

“Well, I… I better bounce.” I said to the back of his head. “Um, Neil?” The boy wandered into the room, listless and dejected, but made an effort to brighten his expression when I addressed him. “I’m so sorry to inconvenience you, but, do you think you could show me to the teacher’s wing?”

“Of course.” He bent down to pick up one of my suitcases, groaning when he straightened back up. “Gosh, this is heavy. What do you have in here?”

“It’s books, mostly.” I took the other one and lugged it out of the room. “I can’t do without them.”

“The perks of having a teacher for a father, I suppose.” He said, a wistful tone in his voice. “At least they keep you strong, huh?”

“Hmm.” To my dismay, I could find nothing to say to comfort the boy, or anything to say at all, for that matter. I wished I could just be consistent.

“Hey, smart thinking in there!” Charlie appeared beside us, grinning proudly. “I didn’t pin you for the rebellious type, but you seem to be a natural.”

“I don’t know about that…”

“Here, let me take that for you.” Before I could protest, the suitcase was out of my hands. “Where are we off to?”

“Teacher’s wing.”

“Well, you went completely the wrong way. How did you manage that?” Charlie shook his head. “Doesn’t matter, we’ll get you there.”

As we traipsed through the halls, retracing most of my steps, I couldn’t help but steal glances at Neil. My mind raced with verse after verse at the faraway look in his eyes. I felt like Byron, struck by beauty in the moonlight and scrambling to capture the moment like a firefly in a jar of words.

“Neil?” I said softly, surprised for a moment to hear my own voice. “I’m sorry about… the thing, the newspaper.”

“It’s fine.” He smiled sadly, but gratefully. “I still have soccer and… stuff.”

“My father is coaching soccer. We might be on the same team.”

“Maybe.” His smile grew a little more genuine. “You’d better hope you’re not with Charlie. He’s a terror.”

“Is it a crime to want to win?” Charlie retorted.

“You’d think it's a crime not to, the way you carry on.”

“Yeah, yeah. Which room?”

“Three-ten. I think it’s the first one here.”

Sure enough, my room was the first one in the wing, closest to the hallway. I thanked the both of them, laughing as Charlie waggled his eyebrows and bowed with mock reverence on his way. Neil lingered a moment by my door under the pretence of making sure I had everything right and that my key worked.

“I’ll see you at the study group, then.” I leaned up against the doorframe, feeling infinitely lucky to have the privilege of looking at him.

“See you then.” He turned to go, but hesitated. “Hey, Clare? If you need anything, come find one of us. Those guys you met today are some of the most upstanding people at this school. We’ll help you if you’re ever… I don’t know. If you ever need it.”

“Thank you, Neil. I appreciate that.”

With a final nod of acknowledgement, he disappeared, and I ran across the room and tossed myself onto the bed, exhausted, and dreading the task of unpacking the horrible truth: I had fallen right off the deep end and landed squarely in love with Neil Perry.

#neil perry x reader #todd anderson x reader #steven meeks x reader #gerard pitts x reader #charlie dalton x reader #richard cameron x reader #knox overstreet x reader #dead poets society #dead poets x reader #dead poets society x reader

[lingering-paperwork]

hello. I am back again for more lore :D

I'm curious about Icarus & his boyfriend that I do not know the name of. are they both like. okay. or

Welcome back!! His name is paths under bridges, and um. No no they are not ok. I will give you paragraphs of text to explain them!

(Content warning: the text below contains descriptions of domestic violence, so if you don't wanna look at that . Don't read the post!)

Paths originally left his can to find the rest of his local group, along with his older brother (?) Snow. While they didn't find them they did find Icarus, and for whatever reason, Paths was like "oh. Him. He is my Husband." so they began to obsessively stalk him. Eventually Icarus invites him inside, and effectively kidnaps him and his older brother. (Though Icarus doesn't really like Snow so he just kinda shoves him in a rot wall and let's him starve over and over again)

despite the fact that paths can hear faint screaming coming from the lower quarters of the chapel, he still trusts Icarus to take care of him. Things start turning for the worst when Icarus requests that Paths, quite literally, disarms a random, innocent iterator (wishing for more). After that Paths is treated almost the same as all the other cult members, though he does get special treatment in the form of baths, fresh food, and of course, medical attention.

Speaking of special treatment, I assure you Icarus Does love Paths in some weird fucked up way. Paths is like, Icarus' favorite toy to beat the shit out of and smother in affection. if Paths gets sick with the flu Icarus is going to make a beline for the nearest functional iterator to make make sure he's ok, but he also broke his ankles so he never leaves. (He's probably got a bit of a limp from that now that I think about it...)

Side note: I've changed the lore a little bit so that Literature (the body Icarus is currently inhabiting) had a little bit more of a "manipulative priest" kind of deal to him? I don't think it directly put anyone in danger, but this could be the reason why Icarus treats Paths like this? (Though he could also be doing it for No fucking reason which would make him even worse of a villain but eehh Idk yet)

Oh, also, just a fun little side note, Icarus is blue-yellow color blind, so to keep track of paths he has him wear outfits like this consisting of bright yellows and vibrant blues.

#they're toxic yaoi but instead of it being toxic they're literally just abusive #like idk how to put this but if you're boyfriend breaks your ankles you should Probably leave #(also they mightve actually got married by an ordaned minister #(cough cough robes of a seraphim) #but idk if that actually happens or not) #rain world iterator #rain world oc #cw domestic violence #idk why that isnt a tag #oh well #THE ROT CONSUMES #[seven circles of heaven] #[rabies local group] #[angels writting] #[angels art tag]

[nientedenada]

Mages Guild Morass: A Mix-Up over Vanus Galerion's Final Fate

Also posted on r/teslore. A couple months ago, my friend @akaviri-dovah asked a question about Vanus Galerion's timeline.

Ok so I’m reading up on Vanus uesp page again and apparently there was a point wherein he abandoned his guild and left Tamriel?? […] "Over time, Galerion grew bitterly disillusioned with the contrived hierarchies and sinister political environment that the Mages Guild had become. He grew regretful for establishing the guild in the first place, as it had become monster of its own, and was too late for him to fix. After denouncing the guild, Galerion elected to leave Tamriel entirely to travel to other lands. For many years Galerion wandered around Nirn. Eventually, after long his abandonment of the Mages Guild, Galerion claimed that he had found the virtue of magic in his solitary travels." [This description] probably wouldn’t line up with how he still managed to gather so many mages and Lamp Knights (guild specific) in his battle against Manni right?

This question completely confuddled me at first, because it turned out I didn't know my Vanus Galerion lore very well at all. But now I know a lot more and I am here to share a very niche lore puzzle with you all.

I think we're all aware that when the devs imported lore books into ESO, they didn't always make certain the books' contents fit into the previously established timeline. Sometimes that can be explained by Hermaeus Mora moving books about through time, but often books are edited for ESO but some detail is overlooked. This is what appears to have happened with Vanus Galerion.

Origin of the Mages Guild, written by Ted Peterson, has been in every big TES game since Daggerfall except Skyrim. It’s been edited for different games, but the last paragraph is the same in all versions.

One need not be a member of the Mages Guild to know that this carefully contrived hierarchy is often nothing more than a chimera. As Vanus Galerion himself said bitterly, leaving Tamriel to travel to other lands, "The Guild has become nothing more than an intricate morass of political infighting."

In Daggerfall and Morrowind, that is the last heard of Vanus Galerion. This version is backed up by a role-playing thread from 2001 in which Ted Peterson, posting as Tedders, has an exchange with Vanus Galerion (also played by himself)

Tedders: Thank Mara for Vanus Galerion for freeing the Old Ways and founding the Mages Guild. Vanus Galerion: For many long years I did regret that very deed, as it seems I created just another monster of sinister politics. The virtue of magic I found in my solitary travels, many years after I abandoned the Mages Guild and ventured on my own. Tedders: Poor Trechtus. It's too late now.

Oblivion, though, adds a new version of Vanus Galerion’s fate. In Mannimarco, King of Worms, it’s explained that Vanus never did peace out on the Mages Guild. He actually died leading Mages Guild Lamp Knights against Mannimarco.

They say Galerion left the Guild, calling it 'a morass,' But untruth is a powerful stream, polluting the river of time. Galerion beheld Mannimarco's rise through powers sublime, To his mages and Lamp Knights, 'Before my last breath, Face I must the tyranny of worms, and kill at last, undeath.' He led them north to cursed lands, to a mountain pass.

(Short interlude: this is not quite as bad as Mannimarco's own poetry, but it ain't good)

In this text, Vanus Galerion is killed in the fight against Mannimarco

A thousand good and evil perished then, history confirms. Among, alas, Vanus Galerion, he who showed the way,

This version is supported by Mannimarco’s claim in Oblivion that he had Galerion’s corpse in his possession.

I must say, I expected Arch-Mage Traven, rather than his star pupil. I am disappointed to see that he could not face me himself. I have met so many of his predecessors over the years. I developed a particular fondness for Galerion, ill-preserved though he may be.

So, depending on whose version you believe, Vanus either left the guild calling it a morass or led the guild in a final battle against Mannimarco.

In comes ESO to complicate matters.

The ESO Devs did not include Mannimarco, King of Worms in the game, since Vanus Galerion is still alive in ESO. But they didn’t ignore the text. A lot of the details of Vanus and Mannimarco’s early life from Mannimarco King of Worms are fleshed out in the Summerset expansion via. Vanus’ ESO autobiography: Artaeum Lost, as well as in ESO flashbacks to their time with the Psijics.

However, base game ESO stumbled with their version of Origin of the Mages Guild, which still ends

One need not be a member of the Mages Guild to know that this carefully contrived hierarchy is often nothing more than a chimera. As Vanus Galerion himself said bitterly, leaving Tamriel to travel to other lands, "The Guild has become nothing more than an intricate morass of political infighting."

When you bring this book into ESO, you get the implication that Vanus got into a snit at the Mages Guild, left Tamriel to travel other lands, AND THEN came back from abroad for the events of ESO where he’s very involved in Mages Guild business again.

So to sum it up

Version 1: Daggerfall to Morrowind: Vanus is said to have called the guild a morass and left Tamriel at some unspecified date. That is the last mention of him.

Version 2: Oblivion to Skyrim: It's suggested that story is untrue and he actually died leading the Mages guild in a fight against Mannimarco but many believe he instead left Tamriel after calling the Guild a morass.

Version 3: ESO: Doesn't go into Vanus' death because it's not happened yet but keeps details from that Oblivion/Skyrim Version about his earlier life with Mannimarco. ESO devs miss the detail of the morass line referring to Vanus Galerion's permanent disappearance in both Versions 1 and 2.

I think if we go with Version 3, which is the most up-to-date, we would conclude that he did get into an earlier snit with his subordinates, went globetrotting, and then came back to guide the Mages Guild. Centuries later, someone misattributed the morass remark from the earlier situation to the latter disappearance.

Or you could go with time-travelling books.

Or you could just shrug your shoulders and ignore the obvious developer error and continue with the timeline established by the previous games.

UESP has cobbled all these sources into one timeline: ESO Events -> Morass Remark and Exit from Mages Guild -> Leading the Mages Guild against Mannimarco/ Death. But unless we go with the time-travelling books theory, this doesn’t seem possible.

End of Morass Gate.

#Vanus Galerion #tesblr #tes lore #niente lore #elder scrolls online #Mannimarco

[randomfoggytiger]

I Am, Once Again, Advertising touchstoneaf's S9 "Amor Fati" Fic Series

touchstoneaf’s epic Amor Fati (Fated Love)

(Previous post: X-Files Fic That Irons Out the Mytharc… by touchstoneaf)

It's... it's brilliant.

Description

Not one detail from the series is neglected; not one observation is out of joint; not one conjecture or plot thread from the mytharc is left unresolved (and is, in fact, further built upon), and not one moment between all of the characters is off target. Not only that, but it glues together plotholes as effortlessly as if those were the original show writers' intent; and builds and builds and builds the transition from surveillance at home to life on the run with a (psychic) baby.

I confidently say it IS the series: not just the characters' voices or their actions but as if the author captured Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz and all of the writers and actors' vision and-- for lack of a better word-- essence and put it all masterfully on paper. The best way I can describe it is it feels like how S9 would have been, should have been.

Part I is Scully's realization that she can't keep William safe (after his near death in S9) and her slow, cautious attempts-- with TLG's help-- to contact Mulder and slip from her job and her life. Her loved ones are all given their turns for farewell (yes, even Bill); Part II is S8-S9 memories and reunion and bliss and rediscovery and duck-and-dodge and the mytharc creeping back in; Part III is hands-on efforts by Mulder and Scully to save innocents and team up with Gibson and his dispassionate alien allies.

There are so, so many passages that are seared into my mind. If you, like me, want to jump right into the action, I recommend reading Part II's chapters 4 through 9-- the leadup to Scully and William's arrival in a small town, their tense execution of plans, and their reunion with Mulder in motel room 42. The entire series builds to that moment; and continues after, organically placing brick after brick after brick. If you are daunted by long-term commitment, it will, at least, serve as quick taste to either ignite or quench your interest.

And Now, For Quotes

I couldn't possibly select one quote as my favorite (not yet, anyway); and the passages below sadly leave out TLG and Skinner and Doggett and Monica and Maggie and Tara and Bill and excellent minor characters and so, so much more; BUT I can't leave these paragraphs behind, either.

She had once, more than once, had the experience of having to tell a false partner from the real one.  She was one out of two on that scoreboard.  /Have to get it right this time.  If…/

Every sense had to remain engaged, in this moment.  Every single detail…

A waft of warmer air... and it smelled of Mulder....  The barrel of a gun came first, poking shyly through, questing.  Her internal timer counted off the seconds before she would see the arms, and then the head…  There were the arms, familiar arms… then the hair she knew, then the face, the eyes…

Mulder’s eyes; legible to her as they would be to no one else on this Earth.  He could be a shapeshifter.  He could be being used… but she didn’t think so.  Not when he looked at her like that.  Not when she could see the thing in him that matched the thing inside herself.

and--

That Mulder had accepted this solace from her, as he had from no other being, had contributed almost immediately to bringing forth that strange intimacy that they had always had between them; first jocular, almost sibling-like, as he responded to her gentle teasing with startlement and a growing relaxation.  This man who was so used to being abused by others with cruel taunting had been taken aback by her easy reaction to him.  But by doing so, she had aided him in lowering his walls, and so now she would never be fooled by his many self-saving wisecracks.  Neither was she fooled by the protection he had put off at first; his little show of, “Don’t mind me, I’m a harmless crackpot.”  That image, which he had often put off to their superiors and detractors, was countered once you met him in person.  Intelligent; yes.  Without a doubt.  Driven; yes.  Almost wholly so.  Foolish?  Never in a hundred years; though he may have looked that way to others, may have even fostered that impression to aid him in his work.

and--

Mulder tensed, shoulders hunching as he felt her abortive movement.  He shook his head angrily against the memories, but when he spoke his voice was quiet with acceptance… and so plumbed with loss that she felt her own heart break.  “I needed you so badly, Scully,” he finished softly; as if the admission cost him dearly.  “But you weren’t there.  I had pushed you away; and the nightmares kept coming and coming…” 

Unable to stand it anymore, Scully drew close and pressed her body lightly, tentatively to his tense and unyielding backside.  Felt his clammy skin warm automatically with that contact.  He did not soften, at first.  Did not edge away, nor did he lean into her.  Much like that awful night when their office had burnt he simply stood cold with shock and while she supported him; the steadfast fidelity of their bond never questioned in the decade that they had been together.

“I was there,” she murmured into his shoulder.  /I’ll always be here./  He could accept it now.  She was finally able to press her arms about him in the night.  Feel the strong bones beneath unblemished flesh; amazed that he was even alive for her to hold after an ordeal that had indeed taken him from her for so long that she had lost all hope.  She shuddered and cinched her arms tighter; felt his ribs shift beneath the silky envelope of his skin.  They creaked in protest, but he did not move, and she spoke like one driven.  “I was there hurting for you, holding you against the nightmares, even when you couldn't ask me to be there.  I was with you every night until you came back to me.” 

Magnificent.

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

#txf #Collector's Edition #Curated #fic #touchstona #Amor Fati #AU #S9 #I adore this series #it is my S9 #(that and Lapsed_Scholar's S9 AU) #specifically: this is my mytharc S9 #xf fanfic #xfiles #x-files #the x files

[theneighborhoodwatch]

ramble about wally & home's codependent swag. do it. you know you want to /lh

sorry for sitting so long on this one, anon. it's good to let thoughts Ferment sometimes. anyway - [pulls up a chair to sit down on it backwards, facing you]

so, the way i see it: it all comes back to home, yeah? home is not just the house - home is also the name of the town, it is very likely the town itself, and that town may be (as far as we know) the entire world. the very Concept of the home been discussed by clown as a central theme of welcome home a few times on his blog. when i say that home is everything, i do mean everything, and i don't think there's anyone for whom that rings more true than wally.

i know i link back to my older posts a lot, but i swear this one is relevant bc i wanna elaborate on a point that i make in the first half of it: the way i see it (as of the time of this writing) home, in all senses of the word, is wally's top priority. which is not to say that his devotion towards home supersedes everything else, but that everything else sort of feeds back into it by design. the neighbors? they are there to inhabit home. we, the audience? we are there to perceive home and round out its population. the WHRP*? they said it themselves - they're there to make that fucking house a home. home is everything, and in turn, everything is for the sake of preserving home. wally cares for his neighbors, and he cares for Us, but would either of those still be the case if there was no home to preserve? i'm not sure.

there is a catch to this, though. of course there is. wally's identity already seems tied pretty heavily to other people; he learns from his neighbors, and he does so on the audience's behalf. given everything i've written in the above paragraph, this can arguably be an extension of his devotion to home, however genuine those relationships may be in their own right. in other words, home (more specifically the restoration/preservation of home) is not only wally's chief motivation, but as far as he's concerned, the reason he exists at all. i think a lot about these tags that @pretty-in-possible (hope you don't mind the tag) left on a post of mine describing their image of wally:

and i had something very similar in mind. if wally's goal truly is the restoration/preservation of home - in this context, his raison d'être, the basis for his entire sense of self - then i can imagine why he would be willing to follow his original role as closely as he could even 50 years after the end of the original show. i can imagine that outgrowing that role in any capacity would feel like a sin. i can imagine that watching his friends outgrow theirs, or at least express a desire to do so, would seem extremely reckless to him, if not an outright betrayal.

("wait," you might say. "doesn't tampering with the site technically count as him adapting/evolving past his original role as audience surrogate?" "yes 8]" i would say. i would not elaborate, and then we would move on.)

i've mostly been talking about wally's side of things, and the reason for that is mostly that wally is just easier to speculate about. home is such a mystery that some people aren't even sure if they're the same being that was on the original show; i've seen people posit that whatever home is now, it is Not what they were originally, either that they're undead or that they've since become a husk for Something Else to inhabit, or some third thing i'm forgetting. either way, i think it's interesting that as attached as wally is to home, even he doesn't seem to be able to assess whatever their needs are with 100% accuracy - if the duet audio is to be believed, there's at least Some guesswork involved. who's to say that wally isn't just hearing what he wants to hear, at least some of the time?

i wonder - how does home feel about being an Embodiment, not of just the town, but of the very word "home?" are they frustrated with the fact that even wally, their own inhabitant, can never fully understand them, and has become resentful? do they appreciate the effort regardless, but feel a growing impatience gnawing at them day by day? are they apathetic at best towards wally, but need him to fulfill some goal or another, since they're an inanimate building? either way, i can't help but feel that home also relies on wally in some way; perhaps not as heavily as he relies on them, perhaps not in the same way or for the same reasons. but there is something Mutual there, i think.

tl;dr: these two are hurtling towards disaster and i, for one, cannot wait to see every last bit of it. here are two songs that remind me of them every time i hear them, the realization of which is often accompanied by guttural wailing.

* wally doesn't seem to have any strong feelings towards the WHRP team outside of maybe sharing the same motivation as them (i.e. restoration) but this may be because he's either hiding from them and also doesn't seem like the kind of guy to Express negative emotions, or he because he is the WHRP team - we'll see how things shake out.

#anonymous #ask #welcome home #wh speculation #wally darling #home #finally. it's been a while since i've been publicly unwell on this blog

[granulesofsand]

Good gay/night/else, Dune! Never wrote you (probably, I don't remember) but now I have a question and wander if you guys can know answer. Do not answer if what is inside makes you feel uneasy or bad or smth else, take care of yourselves, you are one of my favourite blogs to follow

TW for programming, brief mention of torture, sex and missing limbs (nothing detailed, not real gore)

So.

1) our whole life (as we remember it) our legs sometimes just deactivate randomly during day. We always needed to spend some time to make them work again

2) as we understood more about being system, we noticed that "no-no legs" is actually switching to somebody

3) it's nonhuman alter that "smells" like somebody related to sex, thinking about itself as thing made for sex

4) we probably have programming and do wander if it's programmed alter or smth like this

We have bad feelings about it. It feels very wrong. We wonder if you have ever seen something like this or expiriensed it. We heared only about hc-did systems being tortured aka programmed to think that body misses limbs, but we don't remember anything like this and we never had even big bruises in childhood, our parents would notice

🗝️🏷️ programming/torture and deprogramming details, sex and sexuality, RAMCOA in general

We’ve heard of a few similar experiences, and I’m fairly certain all of the ones I’m thinking of were from RAMCOA systems. I’m going to respond to each of the numbers as best I can, and we’ll see how that goes.

1) That sounds like dissociative paralysis (assuming y’all don’t have a physical condition causing it), which I’ve seen in both system members who thought that body part was absent or who had to hold the body in a certain position.

The main thing is that whoever is paralyzed doesn’t know they can move the body part that isn’t working. I have read about system members coming to this conclusion on their own, but even then it was usually because they were conditioned into it while forming.

Programs that can have this effect on legs include: doll/puppet, animal (especially snakes or those whose limbs don’t work like humans’), statue, and any punishments that were targeting that body part.

2) It could be switching, passive influence (especially if the one doing it is less elaborated) or someone whose job it is to turn on that paralysis (it can look like a button, a switch, a lever, a book, anything). The best way to find out (if you can’t observe them do the thing) is by asking.

We’ve seen some of your posts about conflict between alters, and, from experience, people who don’t trust you don’t tend to answer. Building rapport has to come first, otherwise you risk punishment and retaliation.

Reassuring them that there won’t be consequences (only if it’s true) and writing it out somewhere the others won’t stumble upon it can help, because there’s less chance of someone hurting them and it might get around don’t-talk rhetoric if they’ve been taught it.

3) The non-humanness of the alter doesn’t necessarily imply they’re programmed, but smelling like a perp (or anyone, really) is something I’ve never heard for by-chance alters. The believing they’re made for sex can be tended to the same regardless of origin, and looking to programmed survivors might help kick-start the healing process purely because it’s a common belief for programmed alters.

We usually start the same for anyone who has strict self-concepts like this, which is by giving them choices wherever possible. Simple things, yes-no questions like if they want ketchup with fries (and giving them space to choose outside the yes-no as long as it isn’t causing harm), then open-ended questions like what their favorite fruit is, then slightly more abstract ones like what their favorite color is.

You& can skip the orange paragraph, it has to do with sex and sexuality.

If that doesn’t work, we move to treating it as a sexual problem. Sometimes we have to get their attention by putting on (ideally non-harmful, or fictional is the next step) porn or using the kind of touch they’re used to (but let them do it or keep it to your most trusted systemmates, then move to your& most trusted outside people) and then packing in as much information as they can hold while you’re around them.

A harm reduction approach helps to make progress without immediately demanding perfection. Decide what the end goal is for this person and set incremental targets. Celebrate every target met, even if it’s not how you envisioned it happening.

4) If it is programmed, there are a lot of ways for perps to get this reaction without causing marks. Holding the position, for example, or limiting the amount of space that person had to move around could have them maintaining that behavior when they no longer need to. Hiding their legs or a larger impact could have them believing their legs aren’t usable without damaging the skin.

Our system consensus is that programming is the intention and the effect, and if the conditioning had both, it counts. You& don’t have to agree with that, and labels are always optional. You& can address the symptoms without naming the cause, or you can give it another name if ‘programming’ isn’t helpful.

The discomfort (or other bad feeling, if that’s too mildly connotated for you&) could be leaking over from those who do remember, or it could be that you’re recognizing something is strange about the situation. Human brains are very good at picking up on subtle details, and trusting that something is up because of those alarms is generally healthy.

Still do try to treat everyone with dignity and respect, including if they feel wrong, but have plans for going forward in both cases, whether the feeling is correct or not. Especially with trauma, it’s easy to decide someone isn’t worth helping, and that’s not conducive to healing whatever wounds are present here.

I’m glad you’re& noticing members in pain, even if you& can’t or aren’t ready to help them yet. Creating bonds and strengthening them will keep your system on a different path from whatever your& perps intended, and spite is a hell of a motivator. I believe in your& ability to heal, pitfalls and lapses included.

#ramcoa #cdd system #adaptive system #ec did #hc did #pg did #tw ramcoa #ramcoa programming

[collecting-stories]

Renegade - Sirius Black

Summary: Sirius' post-Azkaban confinement has soured his mood and it's effecting more than just him.

A/N: I don't know what this was originally supposed to be...I found the first paragraph in my notes and just kind of rolled with it to make this angsty mess of a fic.

TS Anthology Series | Harry Potter Masterlist

✰ Is it insensitive for me to say get your shit together so I can love you ✰

There was no mistaking Grimmauld Place. The soft mutterings of Walburga Black’s portrait, and endless loop of insults hurled at everyone who lived within the home. It wasn’t the sort of place you would choose to be, wasn’t nearly a contender for the type of ‘home’ you’d hoped to build someday. But it was Order headquarters and, more than that, it was Sirius’ home. At least for the time being. With Sirius on the top of every most wanted list in England, there were a far few places that he was safe, and fewer that assured the safety of anyone else in close proximity. There had even been doubts about Grimmauld Place being the sanctuary that it had unwittingly become. More so, you suspected, because Sirius didn’t want the place of his second prison to be his childhood home. There weren’t any other viable options though, so you ended up there, doing the best you could to cultivate something other than sheer loneliness inside the walls.  

Sirius was somewhat inconsolible though, or he made himself out to be. He’d put on a brave front for Order meetings, reverting back to the sauve troublemaker of his past whenever the house was full of guests. If Harry was around he was jovial, somewhat parental, and doting. But alone, or at least when it was simply the pair of you (and Remus on occasion that he wanted to be a party to the misery) Sirius barely spoke.Sometimes he didn’t even get out of bed. Wracked with dark bouts of depression from his time at Azkaban, you tried both to give him space and to be understanding but he wasn’t the only victim of his agony, or Grimmuald Place. 

“Checkmate in four,” Kreacher noted as his knight struck down your bishop. The rules of wizarding chess had never been kind to you and they were upholding that reputation now, as you sat at the end of the long wooden table in the kitchen with Kreacher.  

The cantankerous house elf had become an odd sort of housemate for you during your time within the walls of Grimmuald Place. Neither of you much wanted to be there and neither of you were in a position to leave, those yours was more self-imposed than Kreacher’s.  

Despite the clear lack of respect that Kreacher held towards Sirius, he rarely permitted himself to be in the same room as the now-owner of the house. So, it was no surprise to you that the moment Kreacher poof-ed out of the kitchen, Sirius would be stepping into the dimly lit room.  

“You want to play a round chess?” You asked, turning just enough to watch him place the kettle on the stove top. He magicked the fire on the gas burner and found a clean mug in the cabinet. “I can reset the board.”  

Still no answer. He went about making a tea that you remembered Remus favouring in school. Probably something of his own creation. You took a sip from your own mug, the chamomile and honey that Kreacher had made you earlier was cooling to a favourable luke warm. You had grown up with a muggle mother and didn’t care for wizarding drinks the way Sirius did. In school, when you’d first wrinkled your nose at butterbeer, Sirius had found it hilarious and teased you for it ever since.  

“Or you can just go back to sulking through the house like a ghost.” You muttered, holding the ceramic mug to your lips and taking a sip.  

Sirius’ movements stopped and he stood still there at the stove, hand hovering over the handle of the kettle. You were kind enough, or had been until five seconds prior, not to say anything about Sirius’ moods. You let him get away with his disposition but lately it was getting more and more unbearable. It was draining to watch him so jovial with everyone else and so awful with you, even if his happy moods were a farce, it felt like Grimmauld Place wasn’t the only thing he hated.  

“I’m not sulking,” he finally said, resuming his movements and completing the tea. He set the kettle off the burner and placed his spoon in the sink before turning to face you, leaning against the counter as he did. “When I escaped, I hardly imagined that I’d be stuck in this purgatory, might as well tell Fudge where I am and lock me back up.” 

“Suppose that makes me a dementor then?” You questioned.  

“That isn’t fair-” 

“Lot’s of things aren’t fair Sirius,” you replied. You were on a bit of a sour mood yourself. Dumbledore had let slip some activity in Wales that was gaining Order suspicion and he passed off the assignment to Mad-Eye even though you’d asked for it. (“I think it’s best you stay here with Sirius”) but you were sick of staying with Sirius. You were sick of the sour moods and the emptiness and the distance. It didn’t feel anything like it used to feel when the two of you were camped out in hiding in the days before Lily and James died. Maybe it was wrong of you to want to feel like that again, after so much had changed, but you couldn’t help wishing that there was something left between you and Sirius. There had been so much love before you could have drowned in it and now you were trapped in this endless draught of sorrow, wondering if all those emotions had been imagined. Were you just too young and foolish before? Had it all been in your head? What was the use of clinging onto someone who refused to let themselves love you anymore. You could do without the heartache on top of everything else.  

“Good observation.” He replied, curt and with little emotion.  

“I asked Dumbledore to send me on assignment,” you mentioned.  

“Sick of being here?”  

“Sick of feeling like this is an assignment. I waited thirteen years for you to get out of Azkaban and I swore every single day you were innocent. Lost my whole family over it...I know you went through hell there and I know this is no holiday but whenever it’s just the two of us here, feels like you can’t stand to be around me.” You admitted, toying with the bishop as you spoke to keep from fidgeting too badly.  

Sirius was quiet for a long moment, holding his tea and gently blowing the steam away from the top. You knew this wasn’t exactly the conversation Sirius wanted to have first thing in the morning (though it was closing in on noonish the last time you looked). It wasn’t the conversation you had been planning on having with him either. You wanted to talk to him about the way you were feeling and maybe unpack the way he was feeling but you didn’t want to ambush him.  

“I hate this house,” he finally said, “I don’t have a single good memory here.”  

“I know-” 

“You have no idea,” Sirius said, cutting you off.  

Out of the kitchen, in the hallway, the door opened and Remus’ voice echoed through the downstairs in greeting. You looked away from the kitchen door as Sirius stood up straighter, abandoning his cup of tea to say hello to his oldest friend. While he was gone you stood and gathered up the chess set, cleaning away the remnants of the morning. 

Remus didn’t venture further into the house, letting you know from the quiet sounds of their chatter and his refusal to stay longer that this was simply an update for the sake of Order business. It wouldn’t do well to be coming and going from Grimmuald Place in broad daylight so whatever the business was, there was some haste to it but nothing so frantic that you were both summoned. In fact, you stayed in the kitchen until the front door opened and closed once more, allowing Remus and Sirius their privacy.  

On the occasion that Sirius was in a particularly foul mood, you found yourself tempted to remind him that Remus too, had believed he was guilty. Everyone you knew in fact, friends as well as family, believed whole-heartedly the lie that Sirius had murdered his dearest friends for Voldemort. It was you alone that insisted on his innocence. And it was you alone who weathered his awful temperament. 

“What did Remus want?” You asked, stepping out of the kitchen finally and meeting Sirius in the hallway. You offered him the cup of tea that he’d left behind, the ceramic still warm.  

“Change of plans for tonight, everyone’s meeting here. There’s been activity in London.” He replied, rattling off the message Remus had come to deliver as easily as he might provide you a grocery list.  

“Alright,” you nodded, “any word on the sort of activity Dumbledore is seeing in London that’s so troubling?”  

He shook his head, “just said there’s been activity in London.”  

You were just beginning to reply when the thought occured to you that everything always felt so contrived between the two of you. It was the same thought that had been nagging at you lately, especially this morning. Your conversations felt wooden, like you were each reading your lines off boards, moving the conversation along but saying nothing to each other. You didn’t know if it was your reluctance to really, truly address the elephant in the room or his avoidance of any topic at all but you knew that you couldn’t sit through another Order meeting watching him laugh and chat and wishing that he would speak to you with even half that charm.  

“I want to finish our conversation from earlier.” You said, before you could really think better of it.  

“We weren’t having a conversation,” Sirius took a half step back, “I walked into the kitchen and you attacked me about my attitude toward being kept prisoner in my childhood home.” 

“Then let me say this before you retreat back into your room for the rest of the day,” you reached for the banister, as if blocking his path up the stairs would stop him from getting to his room, “I know this place is hell and I’m not asking you to be happy about being here or to suddenly stop being angry that the last fifteen years happened at all. All I’m asking, is that you treat me with even a hint of respect. I have loved you for years and years, practically two decades worth of my life has been devoted to being in love with you Sirius. But I can’t keep letting you hurt me because you’re hurting.”  

“Is that it?”  

“No, when we see Dumbledore tonight, I’m insisting that I take the post in Wales.” You replied, releasing the banister and stepping to the side.  

Without a reply, Sirius headed up the stairs to his room and you stood in the hallway, listening to the soft murmur of Walburga Black’s hateful voice. You could feel the pressure in your head settling, a wave of tears threatening to take hold of you.  

It was fifth year, you remembered the exact moment like it’d happened just the day before.

Fifteen and back to school and you’d been owling your friends all summer about who you thought might couple up that year. The gossip was like a whirlwind, it swept you up and had you analyzing every interaction you saw on the train platform, waiting for the Hogwarts Express. And somewhere in the haze of it all, Sirius Black asked you to sit beside him on the ride back to school. His friends were snickering behind him as if they’d put him up to it (and probably they had seeing as you were a Hufflepuff and still awkward enough to be under the impression that you were nothing too special).  

His affection for you didn’t last long, a few trips to Hogsmeade and suddenly you were simply friends. You continued on harboring a magnificent crush but it wasn’t until you graduated that he showed any romantic interest again.  

“...and you’re working at St. Mungo’s?” He’d asked, keeping you after an Order meeting, both of you lingering outside the Leaky Cauldron on the muggle side. “Lily mentioned you were a healer.” 

Sirius kept his hand gently on the crook of your elbow, his thumb brushing along the soft skin on the inside of your arm. He’d grabbed for you as you were leaving and now he seemed intent on keeping you there as long as you would let him.  

“I am,” you replied, taking a step closer when the door to the Leaky Cauldron opened and omitted two patrons out onto the London streets. Their presence, whether because of the discussion at the Order meeting earlier in the evening or because of the general constant threat Order members seemed to carry, made him tense up. You looked briefly over your shoulder but the two were already headed down the street, arm in arm. “Would you like to go somewhere quieter? My flat’s just up this way,” you offered, gesturing to some spot beyond him.  

You weren’t terribly surprised that Sirius agreed to accompany you back to your flat, it was Sirius Black after all. You knew him well enough from seven years of school together and this last year of working with the Order had proved that he had changed little from his school days. He was just as charming but you weren’t nearly so naive. Which was probably why you were so surprised to find that this wasn’t just some one night of blowing off steam sort of thing for him.  

“I used to wonder...what it might have been like if Pettigrew hadn’t defected that night...if James and Lily lived.” You chanced mentioning once the meeting was over and Sirius had retired to the library. You had packed your things up and promised to send Dumbledore an owl in the morning once you had made it to Wales safely. Now it was just a matter of saying goodbye.  

“None of this would be happening.” Sirius replied, looking down into the tumbler of whiskey in his hand, “Harry would have his parents.” 

“I know that,” you replied, “I meant more selfishly...for us, rather. Would we have lasted? Do you think?”  

“Why?” 

You shrugged, “I’d just like to know if I’m holding on for nostalgia’s sake or if there’s something here and I'm not delusional. If I leave would you wish that I stayed?” You gave him a good, long while to answer but he remained motionless in the wing-back chair, staring into his drink as if it held the secrets of the universe. Finally, you stepped back out of the room and turned away from the library, taking the hall to the front door.  

In the morning, you wouldn’t be surprised to find an owl already waiting at the small flat in Cardiff, a handwritten note from Sirius to let you know that you’d forgotten your favorite mug in the cupboard but that he would keep it for you until you returned.  

#sirius black imagine #sirius black fan fiction #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black blurb #sirius black fic #sirius black fanfic #marauders imagine #marauders fanfic #collecting stories imagine

[lajulie24]

I want to hear about the WLW ficlets and... Leia wins the darksaber??

Oh, these are two fun ones…and both happen to be at least tangentially wlw-related, as it turns out.

WLW ficlets

I think these started as a series of ideas I was generating for a Star Wars WLW Week fic event, and then didn’t get as far as I’d planned before the week was over. But I still like the ideas, which include:

- Leia/Evaan - Backstory is that Leia and Evaan had a little fling around the time of the events in the Princess Leia comic. Evaan comes back to base about a year later, she and Leia flirt with each other, other beings notice.

- Leia and Amilyn - Leia is reunited with her friend Amilyn (who is working with the Rebellion but is in the field or stationed elsewhere), and Amilyn teases Leia about things having changed a bit since they were teenagers (referring to the scene in Leia Princess of Alderaan where sixteen-year-old Leia claimed she was only attracted to human men) after Amilyn observes her chemistry with another woman on base.

- Leia/Scarlet - Leia and Scarlet Hark (from Honor Among Thieves) team up on a mission…and more? This ficlet is almost done, so a little more editing and I’ll post it soon!

Leia wins the Darksaber

I’ve written like two paragraphs of this, but I have a rather complicated plot idea for it, which is partly my love of Leia being a badass, partly my desire to see Leia do something interesting in the post-ROTJ canon (such as combine her diplomatic and ass-kicking and Force-sensitive abilities for good), partly my interest in seeing Leia explore her attraction to women while still being happily together with Han, and partly my interest in rewriting what I consider the stupid parts of the recent seasons of The Mandalorian.

Here it is: Din Djarin has the Darksaber and doesn’t really want it, but Bo-Katan won’t just take it from him, so he’s holding on to it for now. Leia runs into Din when he goes to ask Luke for saber lessons and she and Han are visiting Luke (note: there is no Ben Solo in this continuity), and Leia has also been taking Jedi training, including saber lessons. Leia is also very curious to get the skinny on Moff Gideon and all that business because she’s wanting to make sure the New Republic is paying attention to potential threats. When she learns that Bo-Katan wouldn’t just take the Darksaber from Din, she’s like, “okay, I’ll challenge you for it then” which Din doesn’t really want to do but Leia kind of goads him into a fight using their new saber skills. (He is also way more interested in the fight once he figures out Leia is the Huttslayer.) Din has really improved a lot since Luke started teaching him, but Leia still beats him.

Then Bo-Katan challenges Leia for the Darksaber and while Leia’s original plan was to put up a good show but ultimately let Bo win so she can have it to unite Mandalore, once they start fighting Leia kind of really gets into it, because it’s an honor fight and Leia hasn’t really had a good actual fight in WAY too long. (Also fighting is kinda sexy and Leia might be a little into Bo?) When they get to the point where Leia is about to win and Bo is about to yield, Leia uses the moment to negotiate a bit of an unexpected alliance. (Also they go out for drinks later on and Han is not remotely threatened, he’s all “have fun!”)

Thank you for the asks, those were fun to talk about!

Ask me about my WIPs!

#ask lajulie #my wips #wip ask game #star wars #leia organa #and lots of ladies! #Evaan Verlaine #amilyn holdo #scarlet hark #bo katan kryze #din djarin #han solo #the darksaber #otterandterrier #thank you for the ask!