#could this create a dependency? would you start to need to make more?
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I wanted to know how do you interpret Tanya's gender. After reading chapter 58 of the manga i got the impression that she is definitely trans coded, but maybe thats just me
Very good question.
To be honest, when I think too hard about Tanya’s gender (and sexuality, for that matter) it gives me brain worms. Fun brain worms, but brain worms nonetheless. I can’t explain it. Everything she’s got going on is complicated as shit there’s way too much to think about.
Like, she was a man, but now she's a girl. But at some points she says she still sees herself as a man internally so is this MtFtM? How does that work. And if she accepts she's a woman now, is that just MtF or do we add more letters. More importantly: Was Being X being Transphobic or being the Greatest Trans Ally of All Time with the free divinely issued sex change.
Ok ok, jokes aside. Confession: I actually do not keep up with the manga, so I had to go find the chapter and read it first. Having read it now though, I see what you mean.
The conversation she has with the Salaryman/herself in that chapter really does read as essentially saying “I’ve accepted who I am now.” It’s a far cry from a much earlier part of the manga I remember where she has a breakdown about being a man/people seeing her as a girl.
A friend of mine was actually showing me stuff from more recent chapters of the manga (don’t know which chapter tragically, but I know it’s not currently translated to English) and from what I gathered of it, Being X was showing Tanya a dream of being back in her past life and in response she basically demanded to go back to being Tanya immediately. It is definitely not just you, I 100% see the trans-coding you’re talking about.
As for my personal interpretation of her gender, I touched very briefly on it once before, but I honestly think she wouldn’t want to label herself as anything. At first, this is out of hesitance and not wanting to acknowledge that anything might be ““wrong”” or ““different”” about her. Later on it turns into character growth, more along the lines of, “I don’t need the label to define me, I just am what I am/like what I like. I don’t care about it any more than that.” Yes this is 100% projection on my part. No, I won’t apologize for it lmao.
Of course, that's entirely my own headcanon. I definitely am not saying it’s the only way to interpret her, it’s just my personal thoughts. Especially since my opinion is subject to change on a dime depending on what I’m reading/working on myself. The Tanya gender is, in fact, transient, shifting like water.
Like. A transfem Tanya fic that focuses on her adapting to life in her new world and coming to discover she doesn’t actually hate her new body? I’d totally read that. I’ve seen a few fics that include that as a part of the narrative and those scenes of acceptance were among my favorite parts.
I get the feeling this is the route that the manga is going as well. It’s a bit of a shame that we don't have those aforementioned scenes in the light novel (or at least, I don't remember them), but I don’t think that Carlo Zen really intended that to be the focus/narrative in the first place. And honestly, I also think that’s a good thing because it allows for so much more room for interpretation and headcanon around Tanya’s character.
Anyway, the other direction is also compelling to me. A transmasc Tanya fic where, after feeling uncomfortable and hating how feminine he looks for years and years, he finally goes ‘Fuck this, I’m gonna go back to being a man’? I would read the fuck out of that too.
Could also be paired with him finally choosing to defect, where they think about it like, ‘Well there’s nothing to hold me back now, right? I don’t have to maintain appearances anymore. Also, since I’m defecting this would be a great way to hide myself. They’d all be looking for the wrong person. Two birds with one stone, how efficient.’ …Now we’re getting to fic ideas I won’t ever get to so it’s time to move on I think.
Semi-related to the Trans Tanya Concept, this actually brings me to a bit of a lore/headcanon/idea/question I want to present to the public for opinions. In Norden, during the inciting battle of the war, Tanya uses magic to “dope up” so she could enhance her strength and reaction time and kill pain. I took this to mean she used a formula to synthesize the narcotics/adrenaline hormone/whatever else directly into herself, right?
Can you see where I’m going with this? As long as you know which hormones to make, how they’re made up, and what quantities you need… Well, don’t you think magic HRT is completely possible? Of course, as I'm not sure it makes sense for Salaryman to have known the detailed specifics about it from the modern world, it would require a lot of in-universe research/science advancement for someone to actually do that, but theoretically...
The magic system in this universe has so much potential to be explored, I’m fascinated by what you can theoretically do with it. Although, this is long and off-topic already I think this should be the end, lol.
I think I talked too much? I’m sorry, you were probably not expecting such an answer. I told you, Tanya gives me brain worms (mental illness).
I guess the TL;DR is this: that kid definitely ain’t cishet.
#marathehomosexual#ask#not a daily post#you could ask me a simple yes or no question and i would STILL find a way to make the answer multi-paragraph#i STILL have things to talk about. im just choosing to throw it in the tags now#LIKE. if synthesizing hormones is something completely possible in universe#is birth control possible as well? how about anti-depressants?#how far can we go with this? can you get addicted to these magic-synthetic chemicals/hormones/whatever?#say you need a little pick me up in the day. you give yourself a little boost in the happy-brain-chemicals (dopamine or whatever)#(im not a biologist or knowledgeable about most biology-related things honestly. please just go with it)#would a mages body start to rely on magic to produce it and stop creating it naturally anymore?#could this create a dependency? would you start to need to make more?#its insane. i feel insane#you ask me a simple question and i refuse to stop elaborating#rimu be quiet now
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dude not me thinking about post-gang war arc gang's bay aughghgh the character design ideas i have are so GOOOODDD
#at this point i feel like i just SHOULD make gang's bay a tv show when i can#but also that depends if i can get the necessary people on it. mainly being boat (which i dont think will be too hard?)#(but that also depends if he would be interested in so much as being a voice actor)#(and that's like the bare minimum i'd need from him. i'd hope he also wants to do more of the development as well)#(which i mean it seems right up his alley? he seems to like creating characters n stories for an audience right)#but anyway it may actually be higher priority to me than bwob at this point. as much as i still love the idea of it#im just SO invested in gang's bay now#i think the main thing is that the ocs ive made for gang's bay i've developed to the point of them actually feeling real to me#and like people i could talk to. and there are SO many stories i could tell with them#meanwhile boardwalk is meant to be smth a little more like a recent disney cartoon: a sort of blend between episodic and serialized#where it kind of starts as more of a sitcom but builds up to a big dramatic save-the-world type plot leaving everything changed for better#at this point gang's bay also kinda does that but on a smaller scale conflict-wise but is far more flexible#in that a LOT could happen before and after the fact. it's still at its core a sitcom#but it's still allowed to have a sort of story progression between the gang war and the characters changing & finding their life partners#gang's bay also has SO many more themes than bwob does at this point#bwob is supposed to be an allegory for acceptance of queer individuals or even any type of diversity#meanwhile in gangs bay there's friendship and trust and the meaning of masculinity and growing up and overcoming addiction and trauma and-#there's just SO much at this point dude. if any show SHOULD run for like 10 seasons or more it's gang's bay#honestly im not even sure where it would end at this point. either way if it were a show it'd probably be the best adult cartoon out there#UGHHHH im so hyperfixated on this cant you tell
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Pete Buttigieg is just a faggot.
It's very important to me that younger queers understand this: to the people who you're trying to be more respectable for when you say things like neopronouns set the trans movement back or you're why the cishets don't accept us or including [aces/bi people with the 'wrong kind' of partners/non-binary people/kinksters/non-passing trans ppl/furries/polyam people] just hurts us, can't you wait until we get all our rights before we talk about some of yours? -- to those people? Pete Buttigieg is just a fag.
On Sunday at Pride Northwest, some kids -- late teens, early 20s -- asked what our button I survived Reagan for this? meant. All of the queer adults at the tables making up our ad hoc counter looked at each other and sighed a little. Emet and another adult started to explain the way that the Reagan Administration handled -- or didn't handle -- the beginning of the AIDS crisis. How many people died. How much we were ignored. The Ashes Action. The Time Magazine article which explicitly blamed bisexual men for passing the pandemic to the cishet community, playing on all the worst stereotypical bullshit. The way that even when the CDC started paying attention, they were so focused on gay men that they ignored AIDS in the lesbian community, leading to the "women don't get AIDS, they just die from it" poster. And so on.
I finished counting out change and passed the last Bear Pride raised fist pin over to a bear a little older than me, then turned my head and interjected, "they didn't care until it started infecting more than just the fags." I turned my head back and handed him his change. He laughed bitterly and said, "remember when they called it 'gay cancer?'"
That what I need you to understand. The people for whom you are folding yourself into smaller and smaller boxes will never see you as anything but a freak. A queer. A dyke. A tranny. A fag.
Never.
These are people who will stand by and let you wither away and die alone, gasping for breath in a cinderblock room, and not even claim your ashes, and they will say you deserve it, because of your lifestyle. If they speak of you at all it will be by the wrong name, with the pictures you hate the most. They will curse at your lover, throw him out of the home you shared, and steal the gift you gave last Christmas to throw it in the trash just so he can't have it and they'll say Jesus loves you! while they do it. They'll feel good and righteous and blessed and holy and pure for doing it.
And for them, you spit in the eye of your sister. For them, you disavow your sibling. For their sake, you trim away bits of your heart and lace yourself up tight. Never too loud. Never too queer. Never inconvenient or embarrassing, never asking for too much.
Pete Buttigieg is what happens when your Boomer dad turns out gay. Middle America. Parents still married. Suburban-sprouted. Valedictorian. Harvard-educated. Rhodes Scholarship. Military service. More power to him: I hope he and Chasten are very happy together. Genuinely, I do.
You couldn't create a more respectable gay if you grew one in a lab run by concerned voter focus groups.
But Pete Buttigieg? Is just a fag.
That's the part you don't seem to get: when they abandoned us, they abandoned all of us. Rock Hudson was a beloved movie star and even personally friendly with that horrid pair of ambitious jackals. Nancy Reagan refused to help him get into the only place in the world that could treat him at the time, and he died.
It was 1985, 4 years after the CDC first released papers on what would eventually become known as HIV/AIDS and 7 years after the first known death from an infection from HIV-2. Reagan hadn't even said the word AIDS by the time Hudson died.
Pete Buttigieg is just a fag, and so am I. Unless I'm a dyke, which seems to depend on who's yelling what from which window and what day it is.
Yes, there will be people who genuinely love and accept you. Those people are worth all the frustration of the rest, thankfully, and they're the ones who love you in a pup mask or a leather harness and a neon jock like the ones sold by the men up the row from us last weekend. They're the ones who laugh out loud when you tell them you hid the word "dyke" in your company name, the ones who love you in all your messiness and uncertainty and the way you don't fit into neat boxes all scrubbed up and clean.
Most cishets, though... well, they don't actively mean you specifically any harm, at least not when they have to look at you. Not when you're right there in front of them. Maybe they'll be okay with you, personally, especially if you're the kind of gay who makes a good rhetorical device, and as long as you remain a good rhetorical device.
They need people to know that they don't have a problem with the gays, after all, and there you are, being all convenient. You make a nice token, and as long as you do, well. You're useful.
But they call you by your deadname when you're not around, and they put the wrong pronouns in your medical record even though they met you years after you came out, and they won't put themselves out to save you. Not one little bit.
I didn't want to be here again. The year I graduated from high school was the worst year of the AIDS crisis. The world into which I became an adult was a world in which an advisor and friend to Reagan, William F. Buckley, openly advocated for forcibly tattooing the HIV status of HIV+ gay men on their buttocks (and IV drug users on their forearms), and in which my father not only told me that when I was 14 or so, but when was told me that he'd advocated for that tattoo being "over their assholes."
(Buckley wrote that in '86, but he doubled down on it in 2005.
Fucker.)
But yeah. I didn't want to be here again. I wanted my daughter to inherit a better world. I wanted Obergefell and Lawrence v. Texas and Hope & Change to really mean something. I work for it, today and all days. I haven't given up.
I need you to know that, too. This isn't a white flag. I'm not surrendering. This isn't over. To misquote Henry Rollins, this is what Marsha and Sylvia and Stormé and Leslie and Brenda and Auntie Sugar trained us for. This is punk rock time.
But I need you to understand that if Pete Buttigieg is just a fag, if that human embodiment of a Wonder Bread, mayo and Oscar Meyer bologna sandwich is not respectable enough for them -- and he's not -- then the rest of us have absolutely no hope of measuring up. Not even if we trim away every colorful, beautiful piece of our community, not even if the Sisters Of Perpetual Indulgence vanish into the ether, not even if we sacrifice the five elements of vogue on the altar of white supremacist cishet middle-class conformity: we can't trim ourselves down to something they'll accept.
The only other option is radical acceptance of our queer selves. The only other option is solidarity. The only other option is for fats and femme queens and drags and kinksters and queers and zine writers and sex workers and furries and addicts and kids and the ones who can look us in the eye and see all of us to say we're here, we're queer, get used to it just the way we did 30 years ago. It's revolutionary, complete and total acceptance of our entire community, not just the ones the cishets can pretend to be comfortable with as long as we don't challenge them too much, or it's conceding the shoreline inch by inch to the rising waters of fascism until we've got nowhere left to stand and some of us start drowning.
That's it. Either it's all of us or it's none of us, because if we leave the answer up to the Reagans of the world and all the people who enabled him in the name of lower taxes and Democrats who wring their hands, weeping oh I don't agree with it but we'll lose the election if we fight it right now, the answer is none of us.
The brunch gays can come, too, I guess.
#long post#uncensored slurs#slurs#homophobic slurs#ronald reagan's grave is a gender neutral toilet#lgbtq#queer#trans#transgender#fag#dyke#lgbt
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morality: a character creation guide
creating and understanding your oc’s personal moral code! no, i cannot tell you whether they’re gonna come out good or bad or grey; that part is up to you.
anyway, let’s rock.
i. politics
politics are a good way to indicate things your character values, especially when it comes to large-scale concepts such as government, community, and humanity as a whole.
say what you will about either image; i’d argue for the unintiated, the right image is a good introduction to some lesser discussed ideologies… some of which your oc may or may not fall under.
either way, taking a good look at your character’s values on the economic + social side of things is a good place to start, as politics are something that, well… we all have ‘em, you can’t avoid ‘em.
clearly, this will have to be adjusted for settings that utilize other schools of thought (such as fantasy + historical fiction and the divine right of kings), but again, economic/social scale plotting will be a good start for most.
ii. religion + philosophy
is your oc religious? do they believe in a form of higher power? do they follow some sort of philosophy?
are they devout? yes, this applies to non-religious theist and atheist characters as well; in the former’s case… is their belief in a higher power something that guides many of their actions or is their belief in a higher power something that only informs a few of their actions? for the atheists; do they militant anti-theists who believe atheism is the only way and that religion is harmful? or do they not care about religion, so long as it’s thrust upon them?
for the religious: what is your oc’s relationship with the higher power in question? are they very progressive by their religion’s standards or more orthodox? how well informed of their own religion are they?
does your oc follow a particular school of philosophical thought? how does that interact with their religious identification?
iii. values
by taking their political stance and their religious + philosophical stance, you have a fairly good grasp on the things your character values.
is there anything they value - due to backstory, or what they do, or what they love - that isn’t explained by political stance and religious and/or philosophical identification? some big players here will likely be your oc’s culture and past.
of everything you’ve determined they value, what do they value the most?
iv. “the line”
everyone draws it somewhere. we all have a line we won’t cross, no matter the lengths we go for what we believe is a noble cause. where does your character draw it? how far will they go for something they truly believe is a noble cause? as discussed in part iii of my tips for morally grey characters,
would they lie? cheat? steal? manipulate? maim? what about commit acts of vandalism? arson? would they kill?
but even when we have a line, sometimes we make exceptions for a variety of reasons. additionally, there are limits to some of the lengths we’d go to.
find your character’s line, their limits and their exceptions.
v. objectivism/relativism
objectivism, as defined by the merriam-webster dictionary, is “an ethical theory that moral good is objectively real or that moral precepts are objectively valid.”
relativism, as defined by the merriam-webster dictionary, is “a view that ethical truths depend on the individuals and groups holding them.”
what take on morality, as a concept, does your character have? is morality objective? is morality subjective?
we could really delve deep into this one, but this post is long enough that i don’t think we need to get into philosophical rambling… so this is a good starting point.
either way, exploring morality as a concept and how your character views it will allow for better application of their personal moral code.
vi. application
so, now you know what they believe and have a deep understanding of your character’s moral code, all that’s left is to apply it and understand how it informs their actions while taking their personality into account.
and interesting thing to note is that we are all hypocrites; you don’t have to do this, but it might be fun to play around with the concept of their moral code and add a little bit of hypocrisy to their actions as a treat.
either way, how do your character’s various beliefs interact? how does it make them interact with the world? with others? with their friends, family, and community? with their government? with their employment? with their studies? with the earth and environment itself?
in conclusion:
there’s a lot of things that inform one’s moral compass and i will never be able to touch on them all; however, this should hopefully serve as at least a basic guide.
#ldknightshade.txt#writing#writing tips#creative writing#writing ideas#writing inspiration#writing advice#writing help#how to write#writing tumblr#writeblr
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MDNI ; explicit sexual content ; fem!reader
thinking about luke being so desperate to have you that he can't control himself.
you're naked on the bed, completely bare, and your skin glistens with sweat. it shines from the light coming through the window. he can't keep his eyes off of you. he can't keep his hands off of you.
he's already as close to you as he could get, physically and emotionally. he’s buried inside of you to the hilt, one arm wound around your back, the other holding himself up by pressing his hand into the space above your head. but he needs more.
his skin is burning. it's hot today, stuffy in the cabin, but that's not what's affecting him the most. he's used to the heat that comes and goes during the summer. it's this carnal desire that's new to him, the craving that makes him want to crawl out of his skin and lodge himself into yours.
his hips rut up into yours with more force as he bares his teeth, burying his head in the crook of your neck, pulling your torso closer to him and creating a curve in your back. you huff with the change, and he expects you to recoil, to undo the arch in your back and situate yourself more comfortably onto the bed.
instead, you dig your hands into his tousled hair and push your pelvis closer to his. luke grins against your neck, he nips the skin there and then presses a kiss into the same spot.
he pulls his knees up closer to the backs of your thighs, sitting on his haunches as he pulls you practically onto his lap. he resumes his pace, a vein in his neck straining as he attempts to hold back a little. he wants to give you more. he wants to give you all of him. and although you hold the same divinity as him, he still fears that you won't be able to take it.
maybe some other day.
for now, he gives you what he knows you'll be able to handle. at least, that's his plan, but then you start fucking yourself on him, both of you utilizing the hard trained muscles in your cores to stay in the position.
it's discordant, a push and pull that's not exactly rhythmic, a concotion of staccato and legato movements. you groan, digging your nails into the skin on luke's shoulder, and he realizes that while he might be holding back, you aren't.
your nails pierce his skin, there's definitely a few marks and he can't tell if the liquid running down his back is blood or another droplet of sweat.
"luke, i need..." you start the sentence but never finish it.
your pelvis grinds into his, you press a hand behind you into the mattress and roll your hips. it gives you some form of satisfaction; luke can see your eyes roll back as well as he can hear your grateful sigh.
apparently, it gives you an idea, because you pull yourself closer to him, dig your toes into the mattress, and push him back until he lays flat.
barely a second passes before you're on top of him, riding him like your life depends on it. the bed is too short for this, and luke's head hands off of the edge of it. he lays like that for a moment, too lost in the change. his hands grip your hips as your cunt slurps him up and spits him out, just to repeat it once more. the sound is absolutely filfthy, so vivid and lewd and luke wishes he could commit it to memory.
just as he wants to commit the image to memory.
a pain settles in the back of his neck as he holds his head up to stare at you. to watch your tits bounce and your stomach flex and the way your skin ripples with each bounce.
you're letting it all out at this point, pressing luke's hips down with your hands while you moan unabashedly as you use him.
"yes. right there! gods, 's good, luke."
it's wrong of you to call upon the divine in a moment like this. if you were in your right mind, maybe you would have slapped a hand over your mouth and apologized profusely. but you don't. you keep going, repeating it with absolutely no cares.
your uncaring nature pushes luke closer. because how is it that you, the sweet girl who would only speak kind of the gods, turn into this.
he grips your hips, briefly considering taking over once more, but you're doing so well on you're own and he knows you flourish best when he gets you started, and you finish things on your own. so he lets you get him closer.
he warns you of his impending orgasm, he asks you to get him there (it comes out more of a beg than anything), and when he feels his balls tighten, he digs one hand into the bedsheets and the other into the flesh of your ass and he lets go.
the cum gets trapped in the condom, warm against his already sensitive tip, and then to add to it all, you clench around him and bring your chest down and he feels the hard pebbles of your nipples pressing into his pecs. your hand snakes between your bodies, he can feel the ghost of your fingers rubbing at your clit, and your moans are so clear next to his ear as you get yourself closer and closer, finally reaching the end when luke weakly thrusts up into you.
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🪁 ˎˊ- their favorite thing to do with you
— aka my take on what makes them express their love for you in a special way <3
— reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!
— seungcheol + nighttime cuddles
it’s one of the rare moments when he can fully let go of his responsibilities and turn his brain off so sign him up. he’ll speed run his entire shower routine just to get five more minutes of calm cuddle time before bed. big spoon, little spoon, it really depends on his mood; but he’ll always make sure you feel held and protected no matter what, and so will you.
— jeonghan + going for a walk
at first he didn’t notice how much it meant to him. but after some time spent away from you, he realized how much he missed your silly little walks. they don’t always have a purpose, and it’s what makes them so nice. you two just wandering around town, hand in hand and your arms swinging at a regular pace. it fills his heart with nothing but love, because he thinks the world always looks a little more beautiful when you’re with him <3
— joshua + making plans for the future
whether it’s planning an upcoming trip or something more distant (your wedding for example…), joshua loves talking about his future with you. he likes to picture you in his life forever, and to hear how you picture him in yours. sometimes it’s just sleepy late-night conversations, sometimes it’s the two of you cuddling in bed and creating pinterest boards on your phones. that way when one of you gets stressed about the future, you can remember you have a lifetime to figure things out together.
— jun + watching your favorite movies
especially at the beginning of the relationship! i feel like jun could ask you to make him a list of your favorite movies and offer to watch them together, because it’s a great way to get to know each other on a deeper level. and he’d be happy to make a list of his own as well! obviously many inside jokes would emerge from these movie nights, making you the kind of insufferable yet cute couple that can hold a full conversation with no one else understanding.
— hoshi + dancing in the kitchen
sometimes it starts with him slowly swinging from left to right as he hugs you from behind, leading to something rather tender. other times it’s him grabbing your arm and making you twirl on some catchy pop-rock song. it’s his own way of expressing how happy these small moments of domesticity make him. of course he’ll also throw some singing in there, and yes he will snatch the wooden spoon from your hands to turn it into a mic.
— wonwoo + taking pictures
there are two sides to that. the first one is when a particularly aesthetic situation occurs and you both take a bunch of pretty pictures. the second one is more personal, more spontaneous. it’s wonwoo sneaking snapshots of you doing mundane things like brushing your teeth or petting a stray cat. it’s also taking low quality selfies of the two of you doing nothing in bed (with you often wearing his clothes), or just during any moment you’ll want to remember and cherish forever.
— woozi + napping
ok let’s be real here: a busy man needs to optimize his time, which means that you will get dragged into bed with him so that he can collapse on top of you and sleep like a log. but what makes it fun are the moments when he shortly emerges from his slumber and changes his position like some sort of touch-starved zombie, frowning until he gets to trap you in his arms again. he loves to say you’re exaggerating when you tell him about it, but you’re absolutely not…
—dokyeom + day trips
he loves loves loves making memories with you, so he’ll gladly dedicate half of his weekend to go on various day trips with you! he’ll pack your lunches himself, make sure you don’t have to carry any bags throughout the day, and even carry you on his back if your feet start to hurt. your camera rolls are filled with pictures of these little trips, and he wouldn’t mind talking about them for hours to anyone who will listen. he might even make a little handmade scrapbook of these memories for your valentine’s day gift :3
— mingyu + grocery shopping
you always go to the same supermarket and the cashiers all think you’re their cutest clients because of how happy you look together. there’s just something about the way he pushes the cart while reading the grocery list out loud that makes you feel like the luckiest person on the planet. also, mingyu will always insist on buying you a little treat during every grocery trip. even when you’re not with him, he knows which ones are your favorite and he never ever gets it wrong.
— minghao + museum dates
it’s the epitome of peacefulness to him. holding your hand as you wander among the artworks, discussing them, sharing your thoughts and sometimes cracking jokes in each other’s ear. when he sees you getting closer to a painting or a sculpture, he’ll stay a few steps back to take a picture of you, a proud smile on his lips as he captures the moment. “again?” you ask when you catch him in the act. “you know you look too pretty to only take one,” he replies, leaving a kiss on your temple.
— seungkwan + skincare routine
you shared a face mask with him once and it’s become a regular occurrence ever since. of course seungkwan knows how to do his own skincare, but it’s so much better when you do it for him! head resting on your lap, you could make him wear your stupidest headband and he wouldn’t even complain. he likes how gentle you are when applying the products on his face, and he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.
— vernon + flea market
he likes everything about it. he likes that little game you have of pointing two remotely associated items and saying ‘us’. he likes to come up with backstories for the things that are being sold. and you like to remind him of that time he pointed at a trinket and asked “who even buys that?” right in front of the person who was about to get it (but he lets you laugh about it, because he just loves hearing your laugh). all in all, it’s a privileged moment where he gets to enjoy the beauty of simple things with his favorite person, and that’s all he’s ever wanted.
— dino + supporting your passions/hobbies
let me explain! obviously he loves it when you keep him company while he’s training or when you patiently listen to him ramble about it; so he’s really careful about reciprocating that energy as much as possible. that’s why he often comes to support you at your sports competitions, art shows, or just any kind of hobby you might have. he shows genuine interest and will always your biggest cheerleader no matter what, always pushing you to do your very best in what you love.
#seventeen x reader#seventeen fluff#seungcheol x reader#scoups x reader#scoups fluff#jeonghan fluff#jeonghan x reader#joshua x reader#joshua fluff#jun fluff#jun x reader#hoshi fluff#hoshi x reader#wonwoo x reader#wonwoo fluff#woozi x reader#woozi fluff#dk x reader#dk fluff#dokyeom fluff#mingyu x reader#mingyu fluff#minghao x reader#minghao fluff#seungkwan fluff#seungkwan x reader#vernon x reader#vernon fluff#dino x reader#dino fluff
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Many people, especially USAmericans, are very resistant to knowing the plants and living according to the ways of the plants. They lash out with a mix of arrogance and fear: "Don't you know what bad things would happen if we lived a different way? There is a REASON for living this way. Would you have us go Back—backward to the time without vaccines or antibiotics????"
Ah, yes, the two immutable categories that all proposals for change fit into: Backward Change and Forward Change! Either we must invent a a futuristic, entirely new solution with SCIENCE and TECHNOLOGY that further industrializes and increases the productivity of our world, or we must give up vaccines and antibiotics and become starving illiterate medieval peasants.
Every human practice anywhere on Earth that has declined, stopped, or become displaced by another practice, was clearly objectively worse than whatever replaced it. You see, the only possible reason a way of life could decline or disappear is that it sucked and had it coming anyway!!! Pre-industrial human history is worthless except as a cautionary tale about how miserable we would all be without *checks notes* factories, fossil fuels and colonialism. Obviously!
Anyway, who do you think benefits from the idea that pesticide-dependent, corporate-controlled industrialized monoculture farming liberates us all from spending our short, painful lives as filthy, miserable peasants toiling in the fields?
First of all, I think it's silly to act like farming is a uniquely awful way to live. I can't believe I have to say this, but the awful part of being a medieval peasant was the oppression and poverty, not the fact that harvesting wheat is a lot of work and cows are stinky. Same goes for farm labor in the modern USA: the bad part is that most people working farms are undocumented migrant workers that are getting treated like garbage and who can't complain about it because their boss will rat them out to ICE.
Work is just work. Any work has dignity when the people doing it are paid properly and not being abused. Abuse and human trafficking is rampant in agriculture, but industrialization and consolidation of small farms into gigantic corporate owned farms sure as hell isn't making it better.
Is working on a farm somehow more miserable than working in a factory, a fast food restaurant, or a retail store? Give me a break. "At least I'm not doing physical labor in the sun," you say, at your job where you're forced to stand on concrete for 8 hours and develop chronic pain by age 24.
When you read about small farmers going out of business because of huge corporations, none of them are going "Yay! Now that Giant Corporation has swallowed up all the farms in the area, we can all enjoy the luxurious privileges of the industrial era, like working RETAIL!" What you do see a lot of is farmers bitterly grieving the loss of their way of life.
And also, the fact is, sustainable forms of polyculture farming that create a functional ecosystem made up of many different useful and edible plants are actually way MORE efficient at producing food than a monoculture. The reason we don't do it as much, is that it can't be industrialized where everything is harvested with machines.
Some places folks are starting to get the idea and planting two crops together in alternating rows, letting the mutualistic relationship between plants boost the yields of both, but indigenous people in many parts of the world have been doing this stuff basically forever. I read about a style of agroforestry from Central America that has TWENTY crops all together on the same field.
Our modern system of farming is necessary for feeding the world? Bullshit! Our technology is very powerful and useful, but our harmful monocultures, dangerous pesticides, and wasteful usage of land and resources are making the system very inefficient and severely degrading nature's ability to provide for us.
What is needed, is a SYNTHESIS of the power and insights of technology and science, with the ancient wisdom and knowledge gained by closely and carefully observing Nature. We do not need to reject one, to embrace the other! They should be friends!
Our system thinks land is only used for one thing at a time. Even our science often thinks this way. A corn field has the purpose of producing corn, and no other purpose, so all other plants in the corn must be killed, and it must be a monoculture of only corn.
But this means that the symbiosis between different plants that help each other is destroyed, so we must pollute the earth with fertilizers that wash into bodies of water and cause eutrophication, where algae explode in number and turn the water to green goo. Nature always has variety and diversity with many plants sharing the same space. It supports much more animal life (we are animals!) this way. The Three Sisters" are the perfect example of mutualism between plants being used in an agricultural environment. The planting of corn, beans, and squash together has been traditionally used clear across the North American continent.
And in North America, the weeds we have here are mostly edible plants too. Some of them were even domesticated themselves! Imagine a garden where every weed that pops up is also an edible or otherwise useful crop, and therefore a welcomed friend! So when weeds like Amaranth and Sunflower pop up in your field, that should not be a cause for alarm, but rather the system of symbiosis working as it should.
A field of one single crop is limited in how much it can produce, because one crop fits into a single niche in what should be a whole ecosystem, and worse, it requires artificial inputs to make up for what the rest of the plant community would normally provide. The field with twenty crops does not produce the same amount as the monoculture field divided in twenty ways, but instead produces much more while being a habitat for wild animals, because each plant has its own niche.
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All he needed.
Pairing: Homelander x F!Reader.
Summary: After two years of being together, you dissapeared from Homelander's life. Vought had told him you killed yourself but one file left on his desk by someone unknown, told him a different story. And when he sought you out, he was surprised to see you alive and well, with an eight month old son, blonde hair and blue eyes, just like his father.
Warnings: Heavy swearing. Blood and murder. Mentioning of smut. Mention of suicide
You were with Homelander for only a short two years. But it was the best fucking two years of both your and his life. You adored Homelander before you even started working for Vought. You always offered him kind smiles when you saw him. And he could hear the way your heart skipped a beat when he was near. You were taken with him from the start and he was taken with how much you adored him, how much you loved him.
At first, Homelander would only watch you through the walls of your office. He could watch you for hours, but honestly, you never did anything exciting at work. So then he began watching you at home. He watched through your walls as you danced around in nothing but a shirt and panties while making dinner. He watched you dress, watched you bath, watched you whenever you pleasured yourself, and even watched you sleep.
He couldn’t get enough of it. Of you. And soon he was forcing his way into your life. He forced Stillwell to make you his personal assistant and you were all too happy for the job. He made sure you had to follow him around the whole day, except when he was out fighting crime. He made them move your office next to his own so that he could comfortably watch you through the wall.
And then one day he showed up at your apartment. He invited himself in, made friendly talk and even stayed for dinner. Being with him for your whole workday, made you two close, and then suddenly he was at your apartment every day after work. You got yourself into the habit of cooking for two and always having fresh milk in your fridge. He seemed to quite enjoy the beverage.
One night you admitted to having a crush on him when you were younger and not before long you were laying naked across the bed, being fucked senseless by the supe. Your relationship developed fast and strong after that. Homelander moved you into his penthouse in the Vought building, so you’d truly be around him nearly 24/7. This created a co-dependency for you.
To Homelander, it truly seemed like you enjoyed his company. You didn’t mind having him around all the time. You didn’t mind listening to him rant. You always praised him and agreed with him on everything. You were truly just perfect.
And then you just had to go and fucking kill yourself.
When the cops found your burned car, there was barely anything left to identify you with. That’s what Vought told Homelander. It was believed to be suicide because of the cans of gasoline that were found not so far from your car.
For a whole year and five months, Homelander mourned you. He was confused, heartbroken and angry. He didn’t understand why you had to leave him. Was he not good enough? Were you not happy? He gave you fucking everything and you just ripped his dead and cold heart right out of his chest.
That’s until one faithful day when things changed. He stepped into his office, finding a brown file on his desk. He sighed in irritation, thinking Ashley had dropped it off. He wasn’t even going to bother with it until he saw the red stamp on the file. ‘Highly confidential.’
His eyebrows furrowed and more irritation filled him. Was Ashely that fucking incompetent to leave a highly confidential file on his desk. He sat down and opened the file, eyebrows furrowing when he was met with your gaze. The photo pinned to the inside was not one he had ever seen before. Your hair was shorter than it was when you were still alive.
His eyes scanned over the file, reading only a few words that stuck out to him. Two simple words struck something inside him. ‘ Witness protection.’ He read it over and over. Nowhere did it say why you were in witness protection, but it gave the exact date you entered the program through Vought. Exactly seventeen months ago.
He was raging by the time he reached Stillwell, who happened to have her infant son in the office with her. He demanded to know why they lied to him, where you were, and why you left. At first, she was reluctant to speak, but with one flick of his red eyes at her son and she began speaking. She told him where you were, but spun a story that you were scared of him and begged her to help you get away.
He didn’t buy it but soon he’d get his answers. Within minutes, he was in front of a cabin, tucked away far away in the middle of the woods. He stared at the house, noting the zinc inside the woods that obstructed his vision.
Inside, you were walking barefoot through the house, still in your pajamas. Your blond-haired blue-eyed baby was in your arms, dressed in a blue onesie, his blue blanket in one hand and his dark red pacifier between his lips.
“Alright buddy, let’s get breakfast in that belly.” You coeed to Noah and the eight-month-old registered the word ‘food’, and an excited spark slipped into his blue eyes. You carefully placed him in his highchair and he grabbed for your shirt. “You can have milk after you’ve eaten.” You said you pulled his hands off your shirt before walking around the kitchen, serving him a bowl of yogurt with mashed banana.
You smiled at the baby when he grew even more excited when you brought the food over to him. You only got into feeding him a few bites before your front door was slammed open so hard that it ripped from the hinges and fell with a thud to the floor.
A gasp slipped from your lips at the sound and your eyes widened. Noah began wailing and you shushed him softly as you picked him, cradling his head against your chest. Your heart beated painfully in your chest as you heard the slow thuds of footsteps approaching down your hallway.
There was no back exit through your kitchen. There was only one way in and out, and that was through the same hallway the footsteps were approaching from. You slowly backed up as the footsteps grew closer, but you froze in your steps when a familiar tall and blonde supe stepped into your kitchen.
Your chest clenched at the familiar face blankly staring back at you. ”John?” You whispered as your eyebrows furrowed, confusion filling you just as much as it filled him. His gaze darted down to the baby in your arms, and his eyebrows knitted together. “Oh my God…” You let out a soft sigh, a relieved sigh. “You found me.” You said softly as the smallest smile tugged at your lips and tears filled your eyes.
“Y/n…” He whispered as he continued to stare at you with furrowed eyebrows. Stillwell’s story and your reaction to his presence didn’t match up. “I…I don’t understand.” He muttered softly as his eyebrows furrowed even more. His gaze darted towards Noah when the baby sniffed softly, his blue eyes still full of tears. “Whose that?” He asked as he pointed at the baby.
“Noah.” You replied with a soft smile as you glanced down at your son, wiping his tear-stained cheeks. “Our son.” You informed Homelander as your gaze returned to him.
His eyes slightly widened as his gaze shot towards you. He was silent for a long while as he just stared at you. His head cocked to the side and he opened and closed his mouth for a second, unsure of what the fuck to say. He was silent for another second again. “Our…our son?” He repeated softly as his eyebrows furrowed.
You slowly nodded your head as your gaze diverted down to the floor, tears pooling in your eyes. “I’m sorry.” You whispered as you shook your head, your gaze returning to him. You loved Homelander with all your heart, but at that moment, you felt scared of him. Scared of his reaction.
“We have a son?” He repeated as he raised his eyebrows, slowly and hesitantly taking a small step towards you, his gaze darting down to Noah. “I have a son?” He whispered.
“Yeah.” You replied softly as you nodded your head and slowly approached him. When you stood toe to toe, Homelander hesitantly reached out and to the baby from your arms. He cradled Noah in his arms, staring down at the baby who was a mirrored image of him. The perfect creation of him. “I’m sorry.” You repeated as you lowered your gaze, wiping the tears from your eyes.
Homelander’s gaze returned to you. He silently stared at you for a long time, listening to your heartbeat. It didn’t sound like the heartbeat of a woman so scared she had to fake her death to get away. It sounded like the heartbeat of a woman broken.
“They told me you were dead…and then they told me you ran away because you were scared of me.” He informed you, eyeing your face closely to see your reaction. Homelander was so deeply hurt by everything he had found out in the past few hours. He didn’t know who or what to believe.
You looked shocked at this, your eyebrows furrowing and your lips parting as your gaze darted towards him. “They told you that?” You asked softly as your gaze darted around, slowly shaking your head in denial.
“Why did you leave?” he asked, and you could hear a hint of anger slip into his voice. Anger towards you. Because for what fucking possible reason could you have left him for. “Why did you leave with my son?” He asked as his eyebrows furrowed, his gaze darting down to Noah.
You sighed softly, sitting down at the kitchen island, running a hand through your hair. “I was going to tell you I was pregnant when I found out.” you began speaking. “Somehow Vought found out and found me before I could get to you. They didn’t want you to know because they were scared your priorities wouldn’t be them anymore.” You explained as you turned your head to look over at him. “They gave me three options. They kill me before I get the chance to tell you. They keep me locked up until I give birth and take the baby, raising him like you were, and threatened to kill me if I told you. Or I leave, live in isolation with my baby.” You informed him and his lips twitched into a snarl as his grip gently grew tighter on Noah. “I know how much you suffered…I couldn’t do that to him.” You said softly with a shake of your head as you glanced at Noah.
“Vought…Vought made you do this?” He questioned softly, his voice a low growl and his eyes briefly flicking red as his gaze diverted away from both you and Noah.
You nodded your head and he inhaled sharply. “I’m sorry.” You whispered as you got up to your feet and slowly approached him, gently placing a hand on his muscular bicep and he slightly relaxed underneath your touch. You didn’t leave because you were scared of him. He just knew that was fucking bullshit. “I wanted to tell you, I wanted you to be part of it, of everything, my pregnancy, the birth, his life. All of it.” You whispered as your gaze turned to Noah and you ran a hand through his blonde hair. He was quite peaceful in his father’s arms.
“They said…they said you left because you were scared of me,” Homelander muttered in a low voice, and you could still hear the hint of anger. But his anger wasn’t directed at you anymore. Now it was directed at Vaught and every fucked who lied to him. “They said you wanted them to fake your death.”
“No.” You immediately denied it with a shake of your head as you reached out to cup his cheek in one hand. “I loved you…I still love you.” You whispered as he leaned into your touch. You sighed softly and your gaze flicked towards Noah for a brief second again. “I tried to take him and leave when he was a few weeks old, to go and find you.” You inform Homelander in a soft voice. “So many men with guns showed up. They didn’t point their guns at me to get me to come back, they pointed their guns at him.”
Homelander’s lips twitched into a snarl again as he thought of his son being put in danger. He didn’t care if the kid had powers or not, he fucking despised the thought of anyone even thinking of hurting his son. First, they wanted to fucking take him away from his mother, raise him in a fucking lab, then they DID take him away from his father and pointed guns at him. Someone was going to fucking die today.
“Who knew?” He asked in a low voice. You looked at him hesitantly. His voice was trembling with anger and his blue eyes flicked red again, like a broek light flicking on and off, constantly. It was like he had no control, or he was dangerously close to losing it.
You breathed deeply, hesitant to tell him. You knew he was close with Stillwell because he had her pressed nice and firmly underneath his thumb. “Stillwell.” You whispered and he inhaled sharply again. “She gave the orders, made the threats.” You informed him and Noah was immediately shoved into your arms. “John?” You muttered in confusion as he spun on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen. You hastily followed after him as he stormed out through the broken door and flew off. “John!?”
You let out a soft sigh as he disappeared into the sky. You felt confused, wondering where he was heading. Surely he wouldn’t kill Stillwell. Were you and a kid he’d just met a few minutes ago truly more important to him than a woman he’d worked with for years, a woman who gave him whatever he wanted and always had his back?
You waited there by the broken front door for a long time before you went back into the kitchen, calling the men who patrolled around the woods like guards, keeping you and Noah in like caged animals, but no one answered. You were supposed to always call them if you needed something but after five missed calls you figured you'd have to fix the door yourself.
You finished feeding your son and got him dressed in a saige colored green shirt and brown overalls before you dressed yourself in a plain blue t-shirt and some black leggings. You sat on the steps of your front porch, silently staring at the broken door. Noah sat a few inches away from you, playing with his toys.
He crawled his way toward you, dumping a few pieces of his toys on your lap. He leaned against your thigh as he played, using your legs as a play area. You smiled down at the boy, running a hand through his hair. “It’s okay buddy.” You whispered. “Me and you, we’re gonna be okay no matter what happens.” You assured him.
There was a loud woosh in the air, followed by a thud on the ground, your head shot towards the side, eyes widening at the sight of Homelander, standing a few feet away from you, covered in blood from head to toe. The sight made you gasp.
You slowly got up to your feet and picked Noah up in your arms. “John…” You whispered as you slowly approached him, lips parting as your gaze drifted over the bloody man before you.“Who?” You asked softly, knowing not a drop of the blood that covered him, was his.
“Stillwell.” He muttered in a low voice as he blankly stared ahead of him, his eyes looking dead.
Stillwell was already writing a form of resigning and packing her bags when Hoemalnder found her. He could have made it quick for her, lazering her head in. But he made it as painful as possible. He dragged it out for as long as she could take before she choked on her own blood. When he left her house, Madelyn Stillwell was barely recognizable. She was scorched into almost nothing.
You slowly nodded your head. You shifted Noah onto one hip and with your free hand, you placed a hand on Homelander’s shoulder, almost flinching at the wet and cold patch of blood that stuck to his suit, smearing onto your palm. “Let’s go inside.” You insisted as you let him inside. “You can clean up in the bathroom.”
You washed your hand, scrubbed it until the skin was burning and red then you waited in the living room as Homelander cleaned himself in the bathroom. Noah was sitting on the floor, nibbling on one of his toy cars.
You glanced up when you heard Homelander’s footsteps approaching. He was clean now, his blonde hair damp. His face was blank as he sat down on the couch opposite yours. Noah’s attention was drawn to Homelander and he abandoned all his toys and crawled towards his father.
Homelander stared at the baby who now sat by his feet. He was unsure of what to do when Noah lightly slapped his leg. Hesitantly he reached out and picked up his son, resting Noah on his lap. Noah’s interest immediately went to Homelander’s cape, pulling and biting at the fabric. Homelander didn’t even care about the drool now on his cape. He watched his son in awe.
You slowly got up from the couch you sat on and moved to sit next to Homelander. “I’m sorry.” You whispered as you looked at him, a frown tugging at your lips. “I couldn’t…I couldn’t let them do to him what they did to you.” You muttered softly as you shook your head.
“You’re a good mother, Y/n,” Homelander replied as he wrapped one arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side. You leaned into his touch like you always used to do. It brought strange emotions forth in Homelander. Having a woman who loved and adored him and a son. A fucking family. HIS family. “He’s lucky to have you.” He said softly as his gaze turned to Noah.
“Now he has you too.” You whispered as you turned your head to look up at Homelander, his gaze never leaving Noah. Never had you seen the man so much in awe of something or someone. Your gaze also turned to Noah and you pursed your lips. “They ran tests on him when he was born.” You informed him softly and he tensed up for a second until you continued speaking. “He’s like you, but he hasn’t shown any of his powers yet.” You explained as you looked back at Homelander again. “He’s a real gentle kid actually.” You said as a smile tugged at your lips.
A smile tugged at Homelander’s lips as well. He felt proud knowing his kid was like him. He turned to look back down at Noah again, gently running a hand through the baby’s hair. “He looks so much like me…” He noted softly as he let out a soft, pleased huff.
“He does.” You agreed with a nod of your head. “I took so much comfort in that.” You admitted softly as you smiled sadly. For the past eight months, Noah was all you had of Homelander. Of the man you loved with all your heart.
“Vought’s not going to hurt you or our son.” Homelander assured as his hold on you tightened and he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “And they won’t take either of you away from me ever again.” He promised softly as he leaned his head against yours.
After fixing your front door and informing you that all the guards around the woods were dead, Homelander spent the entire day playing with his son. They played with toy supes, and cars, watched cartoons together, and played a little outside. After eating dinner and getting a bath from his father, Noah was beyond tired. You let Homelander put the baby to bed. It was the least you could give him after he missed eight months of his son’s life.
You sat in the living room, looking up when Homelander returned to you. “He sleeping?” You asked softly as he sat down next to you, shifting to lay his head on your shoulder as he closed his eyes.
“Yeah.” He replied softly as he slowly nodded his head.
“You really knocked him out.” You said softly as you let out a soft chuckle, a smile tugging at your lips as you leaned your head against his.
“I couldn’t let him go.” He spoke softly as he inhaled slowly. “I just wanted to spend every single second with him.” He said as he turned his head to look up at you, his face barely an inch away from yours. “I’ve missed so much.” He whispered.
You sighed softly, reaching out to brush your finger across his cheek. “Now, we all have so much time together.” You whispered as you offered him a small smile, cupping his cheek. “I’ve dreamt of this day for so long.” You admitted. “Wondering how it would be if you found us…meet him.” You muttered before sighing again. You silently stared at him for a second before resting your forehead against his. “I love you, John.”
“I love you.” He replied as he reached up to cup your cheek as well before pressing his lips against yours in a yearning kiss. Now he had all he ever wanted. A family. A son. And a woman who loved him. He had it all. All he needed. And fucking pray for anyone trying to take it from him again.
#the boys#the boys x reader#the boys x you#homelander#the boys x y/n#homelander imagine#homelander x reader#homelander x you
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The 5 Most Essential Turning Points in a Character’s Arc
You spend so much time creating a character because you want them to feel real. You want to connect with them and use them to create an experience for your readers. Their character arc is how that happens.
Don’t miss out on these essential turning points that make an arc feel not only whole, but complete.
1. The Inciting Incident
Your inciting incident gets your plot moving. It isn’t going to be the first sentence of your story (also called your hook), although it could be if you crafted your first sentence for that purpose.
An inciting incident is a plot event that guides your character in a new direction. It’s the successful prison break, the meeting of instant rivals, or the moment your protagonist wins the lottery in your first chapter.
Without the inciting incident, your protagonist’s life would carry on as usual. They wouldn’t start the arc that makes them an interesting person for the reader to stick with throughout your story.
2. Introducing the Protagonist’s Main Flaw
Every protagonist needs a primary flaw. Ideally, they’ll have more than one. People aren’t perfect and they rarely get close enough to only have one negative characteristic. Protagonists need that same level of humanity for readers to connect with them.
There are many potential flaws you could consider, but the primarily flaw must be the foundation for your character’s arc. It might even be the catalyst for the story’s peak.
Imagine a hero archetype. They’re great and well-intended, but they have a problem with boasting. Their arc features scenes where they learn to overcome their need to brag about themselves, but they get drunk and boast in a bar right before the story’s peak. The antagonist’s best friend hears this because they’re at the same bar, so they report the hero’s comment to the main villain. It thwarts the hero’s efforts and makes the climax more dramatic.
Other potential flaws to consider:
Arrogance
Pride
Fear
Anxiety
Carelessness
Dishonesty
Immaturity
3. Their First Failure
Everyone will fail at a goal eventually. Your protagonist should too. Their first failure could be big or small, but it helps define them. They either choose to continue pursuing that goal, they change their goal, or their worldview shatters.
Readers like watching a protagonist reshape their identity when they lose sight of what they wnat. They also like watching characters double down and pursue something harder. Failure is a necessary catalyst for making this happen during a character’s arc.
4. Their Rock Bottom
Most stories have a protagonist that hits their rock bottom. It could be when their antagonist defeats them or lose what matters most. There are numerous ways to write a rock-bottom moment. Yours will depend on what your character wants and what your story’s theme is.
If you forget to include a rock-bottom moment, the reader might feel like the protagonist never faced any real stakes. They had nothing to lose so their arc feels less realistic.
Rock bottoms don’t always mean earth-shattering consequences either. It might be the moment when your protagonist feels hopeless while taking an exam or recognizes that they just don’t know what to do. Either way, they’ll come to grips with losing something (hope, direction, or otherwise) and the reader will connect with that.
5. What the Protagonist Accepts
Protagonists have to accept the end of their arc. They return home from their hero’s journey to live in a life they accept as better than before. They find peace with their new fate due to their new community they found or skills they aquired.
Your protagonist may also accept a call to action. They return home from their journey only to find out that their antagonist inspired a new villain and the protagonist has to find the strength to overcome a new adversary. This typically leads into a second installment or sequel.
Accepting the end of their arc helps close the story for the reader. A protagonist who decides their arc wasn’t worth it makes the reader disgruntled with the story overall. There has to be a resolution, which means accepting whatever the protagonist’s life ended up as—or the next goal/challenge they’ll chase.
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Hopefully these points make character arcs feel more manageable for you. Defining each point might feel like naming your instincts, but it makes character creation and plotting easier.
Want more creative writing tips and tricks? I have plenty of other fun stuff on my website, including posts like Traits Every Protagonist Needs and Tips for Writing Subplots.
#character arcs#creating characters#creating character arcs#character development#writing characters#character concept#plotting#how to plot#writing plot#creative writing#writeblr#writers of tumblr#writing tips#writing advice#writing resources#writing inspiration#writing community#writing help#writing
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"When Francois Beyers first pitched the concept of 3D ocean farming to the Welsh regulators, he had to sketch it on napkins.
Today the seafood farm is much more than a drawing, but if you walked along the Welsh coastal path near St David’s, all you’d see is a line of buoys. As Beyers puts it: “It’s what’s below that’s important.”
Thick tussles of lustrous seaweed suspend from the buoys, mussels cling to its furry connective ropes and dangling Chinese lantern-esque nets are filled with oysters and scallops.
“It’s like an underwater garden,” says Beyers, co-founder of the community-owned regenerative ocean farm, Câr-y-Môr. The 3-hectare site is part of a fledgling sector, one of 12 farms in the UK, which key players believe could boost ocean biodiversity, produce sustainable agricultural fertiliser and provide year-round employment in areas that have traditionally been dependent on tourism.
Created in 2020 by Beyers and six family members, including his father-in-law – an ex-shellfish farmer – the motivation is apparent in the name, which is Welsh for “for the love of the sea”. ...
Pictured: Drone shot of Câr-y-Môr, which is on the site of abandoned mussel farms. Image: Scott Chalmers
Ocean farming comes from the technical term ‘integrated multi-trophic aquaculture’, which means a mixture of different seaweed and shellfish species growing together to mutually benefit each other. But it’s not just a way of growing food with little human input, it also creates ocean habitat.
“You’re creating a breeding ground for marine animals,” explains Beyers who adds that the site has seen more gannets diving, porpoises and seals – to name a few – since before the farm was established.
Ocean farms like Câr-y-Môr, notes Ross Brown – environmental research fellow at the University of Exeter – have substantial conservation benefits.
“Setting up a seaweed farm creates an exclusion zone so fishermen can’t trawl it,” explains Brown, who has been conducting experiments on the impacts of seaweed and shellfish farms across the UK.
Brown believes a thriving ocean farming industry could provide solutions to the UK’s fish stock, which is in “a deeply troubling state” according to a report that found half of the key populations to be overfished. “It would create stepping stones where we have safe havens for fish and other organisms,” he adds.
But UK regulators have adopted a cautious approach, note Brown and Beyers, making it difficult for businesses like Câr-y-Môr to obtain licenses. “It’s been a tough old slog,” says Beyers, whose aim is to change the legislation to make it easier for others to start ocean farms.
Despite navigating uncharted territories, the business now has 14 full-time employees, and 300 community members, of which nearly 100 have invested in the community-benefit society. For member and funding manager Tracey Gilbert-Falconer, the model brings expertise but most importantly, buy-in from the tight-knit local community.
“You need to work with the community than forcing yourself in,” she observes.
And Câr-y-Môr is poised to double its workforce in 2024 thanks to a Defra grant of £1.1 million to promote and develop the Welsh seafood industry as part of the UK Seafood Fund Infrastructure Scheme. This will go towards building a processing hub, set to be operational in April, to produce agricultural fertiliser from seaweed.
Full of mineral nutrients and phosphorous from the ocean, seaweed use in farming is nothing new, as Gilbert-Falconer notes: “Farmers in Pembrokeshire talk about their grandad going down to the sea and throwing [seaweed] on their farms.”
But as the war in Ukraine has caused the price of chemical fertiliser to soar, and the sector tries to reduce its environmental impact – of which synthetic fertiliser contributes 5% of total UK emissions – farmers and government are increasingly looking to seaweed.
The new hub will have capacity to make 65,000 litres of sustainable fertiliser annually with the potential to cover 13,000 acres of farmland.
But to feed the processing hub, generate profit and reduce their dependency on grants, the co-op needs to increase the ocean farm size from three to 13 hectares. If they obtain licences, Beyers says they should break even in 18 months.
For now, Beyers reflects on a “humbling” three years but revels in the potential uses of seaweed, from construction material to clothing.
“I haven’t seen the limit yet,” he smiles."
-via Positive.News, February 19, 2024
#wales#welsh#ocean#marine biology#aquaculture#marine life#marine animals#seaweed#sea scallops#oysters#united kingdom#uk#conservation#conservation news#overfishing#environmental news#farming#sustainable agriculture#sustainability#ocean farming#good news#hope
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SEALED & DELIVERED✩༶‧˚
GENRE + T/W: sfw, angst. hurt and NO comfort.
WORD COUNT: 4.5k words.
TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc. established couple. adoptedkiddo! megumi x fem guardian!oc.
SYNOPSIS: after satoru gets sealed in the prison realm, megumi realizes that he has to be the one to tell oc gojo girlfriend the bad news—includes child megumi flashback story.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: the awkward moment where this doesn't end with fluff... this fic just focuses on satoru getting sealed and megumi's relationship with oc gojo girlfriend. sorry about the ending. i was starting to word vomit and run out of ideas. there will definitely be a continuation about the 19 days satoru was sealed away though.
REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions, please do!
intro
"sweetheart, we need to talk."
you looked up from your pile of paperwork while satoru sat down in the chair in front of you. he planted his elbows on your glass desk and leaned over, a troubled look on his handsome face. you could tell from behind his black blindfold that something was really bothering him.
"what did i do, gojo-sensei? am i in trouble?" you teased.
the white haired sorcerer dramatically clutched at his chest, "you know i love it when you call me that. don't distract me."
"yes, i know babe." you giggled, "what's wrong? what's going on in that big, beautiful head of yours?"
satoru pouted at you, he was going to say 'my head isn't big!' like he always did, but he decided to save that bickering for later.
"with sukuna's vessel showing up... i just don't have a good feeling about all the things going on." satoru explained, "so... i want to create some contingency plans if anything were to happen to me."
you frowned at the statement 'if anything were to happen to me'. you didn't even want to think of a possibility of anything happening to the love of your life.
"—and why would anything to happen to my man?"
satoru leaned back into the leather chair and crossed his legs, ignoring your question. "you have to promise me that you'll tell megumi about his father. the zen'nin clan will make megumi the head if i'm deemed mentally incapacitated or if i die. some deal his dad had with naobito, i guess.”
you shut your eyes and slammed your silver pen on top of the stack of paperwork you were filling out, "fine... i promise, but none of that is going to happ—"
"i'm not finished, sweetheart." satoru interrupted, "i need you to get yuta back to japan as soon as possible."
yuta was currently training in africa with miguel. satoru always mentioned how strong yuta was becoming after each visit and how the next generation of jujutsu sorcerers could rival himself. you and satoru depended on yuta quite a bit nowadays. (read ‘the cursed child: yuta okkotsu’ here)
you glared at your blue eyed lover sitting across from you, "anything else, mr. gojo?"
"can you promise to wait for me to come home if anything happens?" satoru asked with earnesty. it almost sounded like he was begging you.
present time: oc gojo girlfriend’s office
“you’re going to be late if you want to meet everyone at shibuya station on time.” you patted satoru on the chest, pushing him away from you.
“—just one more kiss.” he begged.
satoru was so needy tonight. you thought to yourself, 'what was up with him?'
you kissed him again, but he refused to let go of your body. he held you tightly. you furrowed your eyebrows at him.
“what’s wrong?” you asked, “you have that look on your face.”
“i just have a bad feeling about tonight.” he mumbled to himself. you wished you could read what was going on in that crazy mind of his.
your heart dropped, frowning at his eery statement. “promise me you’ll be careful?”
“i’m always careful.” satoru stated confidently.
now that someone he loved was waiting for him to come home, he always took into consideration his safety so that he could make it back to you unscathed. he knew you would never forgive him if anything happened to him and if he left you alone. he promised to protect you. (read ‘the honored one’ here)
you held out your pinky as satoru intertwined his with yours. instead of kissing his thumb to seal the deal, he leaned over to kiss you again fervently, muffling whatever you were about to say.
you groaned once his lips left yours, whispering breathlessly, “do you really have to go?”
“i’m the strongest… so yeah.” he sighed, “remember, if anything happens to me, you have take care of my students.”
“can you not say stuff like that?” you hit his chest as he continued to hold you. “why are you talking like you aren’t going to be coming back home to me?”
“i’m just saying, babe.” satoru sighed again as he booped you on your nose, “you have to be strong for me.”
but what if you didn’t want to be strong? what if you selfishly didn’t want satoru to go to shibuya? what if something happens to him and he doesn’t come home to you? what if he leaves you all alone?
satoru finally let go of you as you stood in the middle of your office at jujutsu high. you shook your head to steer away your selfish thoughts.
“i love you, satoru,” you called out to him before he turned to leave your office, “remember your promise.”
he gave you his signature grin before sneaking back over to you to give you one last kiss. “i know. i’ll remember. i love you, (y/n). remember your promises too.”
"yuta is on his way home..." you reported, "and i'll tell megumi about his father."
satoru frowned at you, "you're forgetting something else."
"—and yes, i'll wait for you to come home." you stated confidently.
for better or for worse, right? it’s been 10 years that you and satoru have been together. you were pretty sure you were a patient person. you could wait for him forever if that’s what it took.
"that's my girl." satoru smirked at you before leaving your office, clasping his hands to teleport to shibuya.
***************************
october 31st. shibuya. 8:31pm. satoru gojo arrives.
“good night, satoru gojo. let us meet again in the new world.” kenjaku said smugly. he had just sealed the world’s strongest sorcerer, adamant that nothing would get in his way now.
satoru scoffed at the ridiculous sight in front of him, “yeah, maybe it’s good night for me, but you need to wake up, suguru. how are you gonna let yourself get used like that?”
kenjaku felt resistance in the body that he took over. hands that belonged to the body of suguru geto attempted to grab his throat.
he laughed in amusement, “well, this is the first time that has happened.”
he suppressed that very resistance with his cursed energy again.
satoru watched and reluctantly listened as kenjaku and mahito had a conversation discussing souls and techniques. he was getting impatient.
“can you just get this over with?” satoru grumbled, “you two aren’t the most pleasing things to look at. i definitely didn't want you two being the last thing i see before getting taken by my own will.”
kenjaku laughed at the sorcerer who was on his knees, arms shackled behind his back, unable to do anything to free himself from the hold of the prison realm. he looked so weak.
“i think i’m enjoying this view, but you’re right. i can’t risk anything happening, so goodnight.” he took one last look at satoru and smirked.
“close gate.”
“we can’t use the prison realm anymore right?” mahito asked curiously.
kenjaku nodded his head, “right. unless the person who's trapped takes their own life inside the prison realm, we can only use it on one occupant at a time.”
inside the prison realm, satoru kissed his the back of his teeth, annoyed but somewhat impressed by this cursed object. “looks like time doesn’t pass here.”
he sat on top of a pile of skeleton heads, repeatedly flicking his blindfold off of his forehead, “damn it. i really messed up this time… (y/n)’s gonna kill me after i promised her i’d be careful.” satoru muttered with a grim smile.
“it’ll be okay. i have faith in everyone...”
***************************
“satoru gojo has been sealed.” nanami announced grimly.
megumi looked at the 7:3 sorcerer in disbelief. “sealed? what do you mean sealed?”
“change of plans,” nanami said as he started walking towards shibuya station, “we need to meet up with itadori. if the sealing is true, it’s over for us. we don’t stand a chance without gojo.”
megumi felt as if his world was spiraling. how could his all-knowing, crazy strong sensei get sealed? did (y/n)-sensei know about gojo-sensei’s sealing? no, (y/n)-sensei couldn’t have known. (y/n)-sensei was probably with shoko at the relief area since you two could heal injured sorcerers.
megumi knew that the school didn’t like to use you offensively because of the damage you could inflict on the city with your cursed technique. no one wanted to fill out that damages report. instead, you were their trump card, their last resort. gojo-sensei was usually the go-to special grade sorcerer if the school ever needed something to be taken care of swiftly.
“i have to tell (y/n)-sensei.” megumi mumbled out loud.
nanami pursed his lips, “if you tell her, there’s no telling what she’ll do. if she finds out that gojo was sealed, she might flood all of shibuya.”
“but she deserves to know.”
megumi took out his cell phone. his fingers were trembling as he sifted through his contacts to find your name. his heart was racing at the thought of having to tell you bad news. he hated disappointing you and he definitely didn't want to worry you. but if it had anything to do with gojo-sensei, you had to know.
this moment reminded him of the time he called you from the principal’s office when he got in trouble for fighting at school.
flashback
'i am so grounded,' 7 year old megumi fushiguro thought to himself, '(y/n) is going to take away my new books for sure. maybe i should call gojo-sensei instead.'
you were the maternal figure in megumi’s life since you and gojo-sensei had taken him and tsumiki in. gojo-sensei let you make all the important decisions regarding the kids. you were the one that always had to have the disciplinary conversations with the two fushiguros. gojo-sensei didn’t like to play the bad guy, he was the type to sneak treats to him and tsumiki after you scolded them.
“well, megumi. are you going to call (y/n) or satoru?” the vice principal of the school, mrs. akita asked him.
megumi sighed, “i guess i’ll call (y/n)…”
he knew that if he called gojo-sensei, the blindfolded idiot would just tell you what happened anyways and he would still end up having to tell you what he did himself. so he might as well spare himself the hard conversation later.
he grabbed the phone from mrs. akita’s desk and took a deep breath before dialing your phone number. his heart was racing. he knew he was going to disappoint you, and he hated that feeling.
you picked up the phone, your bright laughter gave megumi the shivers, “hello?”
“uh—(y/n)?”
your tone immediately became serious, “megumi, are you okay?”
"uh, yeah. i'm okay. i got in trouble at school today." he admitted. he closed his eyes, waiting for you to start lecturing him.
he could hear that you were walking with someone. you were probably on a mission.
"what?! megumi... what happened?" you asked, concern in your tone.
"i, uh, got in a fight. mrs. akita said that i'm getting suspended for two days." he made eye contact with the vice principal in front of him as she sat with her arms folded. this was not megumi's first rodeo.
"megumi... we had this conversation about fighting at school..." you sighed.
yes, you were disappointed, but megumi was your baby. how could you stay mad at the cute little 7 year old boy with the same green eyes as you?
"i know, i'm sorry, (y/n)."
"i'm sorry, megumi. i can't come pick you up today because i'm on a mission. satoru will be there soon, okay?" you felt guilty. you knew the last person he wanted to see was satoru after getting suspended. satoru would never let him live it down.
"okay. i'll wait for gojo-sens—wait, can you send nanami to pick me up instead?"
you laughed at his question, "nanami is actually on a mission with me right now.. sorry kiddo. i'll see you at home later, okay?"
megumi grumbled, "okay..."
megumi hung up the phone and turned around to sit back in the office chair. mrs. akita was filling out the paperwork on his suspension.
***************************
once you hung up the phone, you sighed and turned to nanami. "sorry, nanami. megumi got in trouble at school today."
the 7:3 sorcerer stopped walking and turned to you, your troubled face concerned him, "do you need to call gojo?"
"yeah, he needs to pick up megumi from school. he got suspended for fighting." you groaned.
"being a mother must be hard." nanami teased as he patted your back in reassurance.
you laughed, "having a boy is hard. tsumiki is an angel. god forbid my future children have megumi's temperament."
"you better hope your future child isn't satoru's mini-me." nanami teased.
you grinned at him and joked lightly, "who says i'm having more kids with satoru? he already gave me two to take care of."
you and nanami knew that satoru would pout all day if he heard that joke. you giggled before dialing satoru's phone number as you both took a quick break on a park bench.
"hey babe, you okay? do i need to come help?" satoru asked as he picked up your phone call on the first ring. he never let you go to voicemail in your 2 years of dating.
"no, satoru. we're fine. but i need you to pick megumi up from school. he got suspended today."
"you don't say?" satoru laughed out loud in amusement, "alright, i'll go grab the kiddo."
"i'll be home later. and don't you dare reward him with something sweet on the way home."
satoru was appalled that you would even think he was going to pick up megumi and grab ice cream on the way back. however, you already knew he was thinking about it.
"so feisty." satoru chuckled, "we'll see you at home later then, sweetheart."
***************************
satoru teleported into the front office of the elementary school. mrs. akita opened the door to her office and brought the white haired sorcerer into the room while megumi waited outside. satoru sat down on the leather seat as mrs. akita sighed.
"satoru, megumi has been getting into a lot of fights lately. is everything okay at home?"
"(y/n) and i have been talking to him about not fighting at school..." satoru started, "but he always has a good reason for fighting, so we couldn't exactly reprimand him. what happened today anyways?"
"megumi got in a scuffle with a group of bullies. there are a couple troublemaker cliques in his grade and he beat up three of them." mrs. akita reported back to him, rubbing her temples. "they have extensive injuries, satoru."
satoru started laughing, impressed that megumi took on three school bullies by himself.
"—satoru, this is serious. their parents want him expelled."
"did megumi win?" satoru asked curiously, ignoring mrs. akita's last statement.
mrs. akita glared at him in annoyance, "clearly he won if the parents are wanting him expelled, satoru."
"then that's all that matters to me. that's my kid we're talking about here. end of discussion, akita." satoru said, standing up from his chair and waving off the conversation. “megumi will take the two-day suspension and we'll pay the fines. tell the other kids' parents we're sorry, yada yada yada.”
mrs. akita rolled her eyes, "you're lucky principal kinomoto and i love you and (y/n). no other school would put up with this behavior, satoru."
satoru winked at the vice principal and opened the door to look at megumi. he had a couple of scratches on his face, a bandaid on his cheek and left knee. megumi looked like he was going to burst into tears with the way he was frowning as pouting.
"alrighty, kiddo. let's head back to jujutsu high."
satoru gave megumi a piggy back ride while the child shoved his sniffling face into the back of satoru's uniform. satoru teleported back to jujutsu high as they walked through the school corridors together. he knew that he would have to have a conversation with megumi before you got back from your mission.
"you know you're going to have to tell (y/n) what happened, right?"
megumi glared at his guardian, "i don't want to." and in a matter of seconds, megumi started to burst into tears.
"you cryin', megumi? didn't you win the fight?" satoru asked.
megumi wiped his tears with his forearm, hiccuping, "y-yes."
"then why are you cryin'?"
"i'm scared to see (y/n)." he sheepishly admitted.
satoru started laughing. megumi could feel his laugh vibrating through his back as satoru carried him. he clutched his arms tighter around satoru's shoulders.
the sorcerer grinned, "you and me both, kiddo."
"...is she going to be mad at me? what if she doesn’t love me anymore?" megumi asked satoru full of worry. he knew that satoru knew you better than anyone else in this world.
satoru thought out loud, "hmmm, she'll probably be a little disappointed. but—she’ll always love you and she cares for you a ton. at the end of the day, you’re her baby."
megumi's eyes continued to water as his grip on satoru's uniform tightened. the closer they got to the dining hall, the more nervous the child got.
"looks like you're in luck, kiddo. (y/n) isn't back from her mission yet." satoru sighed in relief, "let's go see shoko and get you all healed up."
***************************
"oh my..." shoko gasped, "what happened to you, megumi?!"
megumi looked at satoru and then back at the ground. he was too embarrassed to tell shoko what had happened at school.
"he just got in a little tussle at school." satoru told his bestfriend, waving it off.
shoko started laughing, "sounds like you when you were younger, gojo."
"yeah, but i wouldn't have gotten beat up." satoru grinned at the doctor, "i was untouchable."
the brunette rolled her eyes at him, "you're so full of yourself."
satoru scoffed and put megumi down on the exam table. "can you just make sure he's okay before my girlfriend sees his scratches and yells at me?"
shoko nodded. she healed up megumi's minor cuts and bruises so that it looked like nothing ever happened.
***************************
you and nanami were walking through the school's courtyard after your mission today. the mission ended up running later than usual.
"sorry that mission took so long," nanami mumbled. “i know you were worried about megumi.”
"it's okay, nanami. satoru’s with him." you high-fived him, "good job tonight."
as you continued the walk through the courtyard, you saw satoru leaning against the entrance to the school building with his arms folded. he cleared his throat.
"your jealously is showing, satoru." you grinned at your boyfriend.
"me?" satoru called out to you, baffled, pointing at nanami, "jealous of him?"
satoru laughed as nanami rolled his eyes at him. "megumi has been waiting for you, babe."
"what?" you asked in disbelief, "it's past his bedtime. it's almost 10pm. satoru, you're supposed to make sure the kids go to bed on time."
"he wouldn't go back to the apartment, he won't go to sleep without talking to you." satoru grinned thinking about megumi’s tenacity.
satoru walked with you back to the dining hall, holding your bag in one hand and your hand in the other.
"i'll wait in the hallway. go talk to megumi." satoru said as he blew you kiss. you caught his air kiss and threw it on the floor, making him laugh out loud. your feisty personality was one of his favorite things about you.
you entered the dining hall. megumi looked up at you with sad eyes. you sat down in front of the child.
"hey, megumi." you greetled him softly, he was quiet and a little awkward. it looked like you were going to have to break the ice. you started the conversation with the 7 year old, "so, wanna tell me what happened at school today?"
"the kids i beat up were talking about you and gojo-sensei." megumi muttered. he folded his arms, angry at the thought of those bullies and what they had said about the two guardians he cared so much about.
"well... what were they saying about us that made you so upset you had to go and beat them up?"
megumi quietly told you what happened, "they kept saying that you and gojo-sensei weren't mine and tsumiki's real parents and that we don’t look like you two. it made tsumiki cry."
your heart shattered. kids were so mean nowadays. you admit that megumi and tsumiki's situation was unique, yes, but the fact that kids bullied each other about their parents was cruel. you never wanted the kids to feel bad about their situation.
you scoffed, "how can i be mad at the fact that you were defending mine and satoru’s honor?" you ruffled megumi's hair, "why were you so scared to tell me that?"
"because i keep getting in trouble for fighting." megumi frowned, disappointed in himself.
"megumi, i want you to be able to tell me anything. i don't want you to keep things bottled up."
"—but what if you don't love me anymore after i tell you the bad things?" megumi asked quietly.
you were shocked that a 7 year old could have such thoughts. how could he think that you wouldn’t love him anymore? megumi and tsumiki were the center of your world since satoru swiped them off the streets and brought them home to you. (read 'learn to love' here)
you asked megumi a question, "how many times a day do i tell you and tsumiki that i love you two?"
"you tell us every morning before we go to school and before we go to bed. and sometimes randomly throughout the day." megumi smiled at the mental reminder.
"—just because you get into fights at school doesn't mean that i'll love you any less. if anything, i worry about you getting hurt." you lectured him, "now, if you grow up to be a horrible curse user, we might have a problem."
"does that mean you're not mad at me?" megumi asked quietly.
"i am a little disappointed," you sighed, "—but i don't love you any less."
you reached out to him for a hug. the boy jumped into your arms. you squeezed him tightly, rocking him back and forth. "now tell me... did satoru buy you ice cream after school?"
megumi froze, his eyes widened. him and gojo-sensei were caught red-handed.
"uh huh... got it." you laughed. you were going to have a word with satoru later tonight.
end flashback
the dial tone was echoing through megumi's ears as he waited for you to pick up. he felt a lump in his throat, his heart was racing, just like back then when he was 7 years old, but this took the cake for the hardest conversation he's ever had to have with you. he would rather tell you that he broke the glass coffee table in the living room trying to summon max elephant a hundred times over again.
"megumi, are you okay?" you answered, "do you need me to—"
"i'm fine, (y/n). it's gojo-sensei."
your felt sick to your stomach. it was in that moment that you knew something had happened to satoru.
"what happened to him?"
"he was sealed." megumi said grimly.
you furrowed your eyebrows, not understanding what megumi was saying, "what do you mean sealed?"
"i—i don't know all the specifics." megumi stuttered through the receiver, "—but i'm going to find out. i'll save gojo-sensei, (y/n). i promise you. so don’t worry and… don’t be mad at him."
"megumi, wait..." you said, voice barely coming out as a whisper. you heard the younger sorcerer disconnect from the other line.
you felt a lump in your throat as you fought back tears. you had to be strong for the students... and for satoru. you felt this immense pain and anger in your chest. if satoru was sealed, that meant he was still alive. there was a sliver of hope that you would see him again. satoru had to be okay... right?
"(y/n)!" shoko yelled out your name, "you're going to flood all my medical supplies!"
you snapped out of your thoughts and looked around the area. water was starting to flood the ground, surrounding the both of your feet.
"what did megumi say to upset you that much?!" shoko asked, "i haven't seen you do that since high school!"
"satoru was sealed, shoko. and i don't know what that means!" you yelled in frustration, throwing your ice shards against the concrete wall.
the street lamps started to flicker as ice started to form around the streets, fire hydrants started to explode due to high water pressure, water started to fill the streets of shibuya. your cursed energy was starting to become uncontrollable.
you wondered how megumi was feeling at this moment and how horrible he must have felt telling you that satoru was sealed. it couldn't have been easy for him, nor could it be easy for the rest of the jujutsu sorcerers and satoru’s students knowing that the strongest was sealed away. the team morale was probably destroyed.
shoko distracted you out of your thoughts again, "you should go to shibuya. the students need you. you're second in command if anything happens to gojo."
you looked at shoko with determination in your eyes, she nodded at you as you made your way out the door to head straight for shibuya station.
the students needed you right now more than ever since satoru was gone. they needed the support from you, the support that you always gave to them no matter what the situation was. you were their go-to person for comfort. whether they got a bad grade on their mission, if they lost a spar, or when they needed an ear to listen to them, you were there.
you thought back to the conversation that you and satoru had. promise number one would have to wait. promise number two was on a flight back to japan and would be landing in a couple hours. promise number three...
'don't worry, satoru.' you thought to yourself, 'i'll wait for you to come home. i don't care how long it takes. we'll find a way to get you back.'
little did you know, the nineteen days that satoru gojo was sealed away was the most excruciating pain you've ever experienced in your life, not even an injury from a curse could compare.
it was as if something was missing from your life and you never wanted to experience the pain of losing someone so important to you ever again.
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Why “intersex” is an outdated, misnomer term? Why TRAs need to stop using DSD conditions as argument against the fact that sex is binary? Why gender ideology is doing huge damage to people with DSDs, especially to women with these conditions?
As a woman with DSD, I want to speak on behalf of myself and other people with DSDs. We have been weaponized by TRAs, used by them to deny biological facts. I will talk about why “intersex” is not appropriate term, about my condition and other DSD conditions in general, about how TRAs exploit us and more. I also want to educate and help other people with DSDs. English isn’t my first language, so I apologize if something doesn’t make sense.
“Intersex” is an outdated, misnomer term.
Term “intersexuality” was coined by Richard Goldschmidt in 1917 and was used as replacement of “hermaphrodite” since 1950s. “Inter” is a Latin word meaning “among, between”. That’s one of the biggest issues with term “intersex” - this term literally means “in between sex”.
DSD and VSD are better, less offensive terms that are used in medicine.
Term “intersex” has been seen as offensive by patients and their families, doctors were concerned that this term is confusing and misnomer, as it implies that patients with such conditions are “between sexes” or “third sex”. In 2006 a group of endocrinologists at the Chicago consensus created category called DSD - Disorders of Sex Development. DSD list contains all reproductive development conditions, including ones that aren’t treated by endocrinologists, such as the whole suite of uterine malformations and birth defects. Not all DSDs count as “intersex” conditions, as DSD is a more inclusive term. DSD can also mean Differences of Sex Development, and some other people use Variations of Sex Development (VDS). DSD and VSD are better terms, are used in medicine unlike “intersex”, are straightforward, less confusing, not offensive to many patients and inclusive.
Sex is binary, there are only two biological sexes in humans - female and male.
“What about intersex people?” is an extremely common phrase amongst TRAs whenever someone mentions the fact that there are only two sexes. DSD conditions extremely depend on biological sex. For the first example I will talk about myself - I have Clitoromegaly which means I’m biologically female, because only females can have Clitoromegaly. Other example is Turner’s Syndrome - only biological females can have this condition. Third example is Klinefelter Syndrome - only biological males can have this condition. While reading about Clitoromegaly or Turner’s Syndrome you will see that those who have these DSDs are referred as females, girls, women. Same goes to Klinefelter Syndrome, you will see term males, boys, men being used. While reading about any DSD condition, there’s extremely high chance that language will focus on biological sex of those who are affected by that condition.
“Intersex” can’t be a “third sex”.
Let’s start with the fact that DSDs vary a lot. If “intersex” is “third sex”, then it would mean that all “intersex” conditions are the same, right? To be more precise, would that mean that every “intersex” person is born with ambiguous genitalia? Like I explained before, DSDs extremely depend on biological sex of the one who is affected. If “intersex” really could be considered as a separate sex, then it would mean that “intersex” people would either produce both eggs and sperm, or they would make a different gamete. Which is impossible is humans.
The other big issue of “intersex” is that this term is used by TRAs to spread misinformation, such as saying that “sex is a spectrum”. “Intersex” is used to silence us who have DSDs and are against the gender ideology.
When you search “intersex” on TikTok, first videos will you see are women with conditions such as Swyer Syndrome saying that “they are biologically male”. When you search “intersex” on Pinterest, you see pictures where it’s shown that “sex is a spectrum”. “Intersex” is a term used by TRAs to validate their agenda. Say that women can’t have penises, there comes TRA saying “What about intersex women with penises?”. We don’t have penises, we have an enlarged clitoris. I find it extremely offensive that us who have Clitoromegaly, are seen as “women with penises”. Stop grouping us with trans women who are males with a fetish. Women with DSDs are female, trans women are male.
Stop grouping us who have DSDs with transgender people. TRAs don’t actually care about people with DSDs and their families.
Like I mentioned before, why TRAs think that me having Clitoromegaly is comparable to trans women who have penises? I want to mention, there’s a high chance that Clitoromegaly isn’t actually a full diagnosis of what I have, as I suffer from a lot of health issues such as problems with kidneys, thyroid and many more - my doctors suspect that my current diagnosis is actually not complete yet, as there’s high possibility of me having a more complex DSD which one of the symptoms is Clitoromegaly. Not only, in my country it takes a lot of time and it’s extremely hard to get diagnosed with anything + it’s extremely expensive. I mention my situation to show how TRAs don’t care about those with DSDs, they only want to use us for their harmful ideology. They don’t care about our pain, our struggles, about how our already diagnosed conditions are suspected to be actually a symptom of a more complex, serious condition. They don’t care about how much it gives us and our families stress. But they are extremely quick to accuse us of faking our DSDs if we don’t support the gender ideology.
People with DSDs taking hormones is not same as transgender people who also do this. Apparently, many transgender people have been faking DSDs to get hormones.
Us who have DSDs take hormones because we need to. Transgender people take hormones because they want to. Being transgender is a choice, having DSD is not. Many transgender people even have been faking DSDs to get hormones. Stop using our health issues to get something you shouldn’t take.
STOP COMPARING WOMEN WITH DSD TO TRANS WOMEN.
I don’t know how many times I have to repeat this, but stop comparing us to trans women. Me and other women who have Clitoromegaly don’t have a penis, we have an enlarged clitoris, not a penis. Stop mentioning us when someone says that women don’t have penises. It’s extremely offensive how TRAs think that an enlarged clit is a penis. The second extremely common “gotcha” that TRAs use are women with DSDs that make them not menstruate. Females who don’t menstruate are still female, stop comparing them to biological males. These women have been expressing extreme discomfort with being grouped with trans identified males, yet TRAs won’t listen. If you think that women who don’t menstruate are same as males who “identify” as women, then you are the problem. Stop using women’s health issues to validate your harmful gender ideology.
DSDs are not something you “identify” with. Stop using our conditions for your fetishes.
The third biggest problem with term “intersex” is that TRAs use it to “identify as intersex”. DSDs are not something you “identify” with. And it’s suspicious how most TRAs absolutely never say what condition they have exactly, or what are their symptoms - absolutely nothing about their DSD. Not only, many TRAs obviously lie about having DSD by saying false information about condition that they claim they have. Not enough, transgender people, mostly trans women, are using DSDs for their fetishes, such as saying that “their penises are long clitorises”.
TRAs don’t see women with DSDs as female, they see us as anything but female. That’s why they encourage us to identify as “transfem”.
I’m writing about this to make other women with DSDs aware about how TRAs view us - we aren’t “female enough” in their eyes. That’s also the reason why for such long time I thought that “intersex” is an appropriate term, until I recently saw other people with DSDs and got educated about this. “Transfem”, full name “Transfeminine” is normally associated with biological males - how biological females could identify with it? Because TRAs weaponize DSDs, making us women with these conditions believe that we aren’t “female enough”. I heard from TRAs that Clitoromegaly is an “intersex” condition, which means I’m not a biological woman, so I can identify as “transfem”. While I identified as “transfem” I felt way worser than before. Before I was told by TRAs that my Clitoromegaly is an “intersex” condition, I didn’t feel bad nor insecure due to having Clitoromegaly. Because “being intersex” literally means “being between sexes”, “being third sex” and “not being female/male enough”. TRAs take advantage of people with DSDs, especially ones whose English isn’t first language, to make us believe that we are “intersex” - that we are “third sex”.
If you don’t have a DSD, or at least aren’t suspected to have one, then please listen to us. We are being exploited by TRAs, silenced every time we speak about it. If you say things like “What about intersex people?” while someone says that there are two biological sexes - please stop. All humans are either female or male, sex is not a spectrum. You hurt us by saying that we “aren’t female enough” or “aren’t male enough”. You give us insecurities by claiming that we “are between sexes”. Women with DSDs want to be seen as female, men with DSDs want to be seen as male, we aren’t “third sex”!
To other people with DSDs - I hope you’re doing well, stay safe and don’t be afraid to call out people who harm us. Especially the ones who were brainwashed by TRAs, as I myself was the victim of the gender ideology - we should speak out about how TRAs exploit us, so no more people with DSDs become victims. Remember, you are heard 💕
For now, this is all I want to say. If anyone wants to correct or add something, feel free to contact me! I made this post for educational purposes - I want to help other people with DSDs, show how TRAs exploit our conditions and why there is no “third sex” and sex is not a “spectrum”.
If you want to learn more why sex is binary and not a “spectrum”:
youtube
youtube
I’m showing screenshots of how TRAs treat me and other people with DSDs - accusing me of faking my condition, saying that I’m excluding myself and other women with DSDs from the definition of female, TRAs being the ones who fake their conditions:
#Youtube#radical feminism#radical feminists do interact#radblr#radical feminist safe#sex not gender#gender critical#feminism
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Loving You
fwb! Yang Jungwon x F!reader
Summary: Being friends with benefits with the character went smoothly for a couple of months till you both broke a rule of having an attachment to each other.
Warnings: Smut, switch! won, overstimulation, fwb, fluff, choking, riding, nicknames, edging (lmk if i missed any)
“If you keep clenching like that around me i’m gonna fucking cum in you so hard.”
Grunts and moans filled the room around you, the man above you was no other than your best friend of a couple of years. See now the meaning of you two being friends was that if one was horny you would hit one another up and fuck, the more you fucked him the more you realized how you love the way he touches you, the way his teeth would nibble at your lips, his eyes would roll back even from the slightest bit of pleasure, how his eyes would always sparkle when he would cum, and the way his hands would rest on your waist as he slams into you.
“Fuck won keep going.” you moaned to him as you grinded up against him, causing his eyes to roll back. You could feel every vein on his cock hitting your insides in all the right places, being friends with him for a long time helped you to get to know each other’s bodies better. You knew all the tricks to make him cum within seconds and tricks that would make him last longer, he was always the guy that was to shy to talk to anyone so when you offered to fuck him you thought that he would get all shy and say no. But that was the complete opposite, it was like something inside of him turned on. He was acting like a complete different person, he would be all cocky about how well he is fucking you as the night went on and you both came down from your highs he was his shy self once again.
“You make me feel so good, you take me so well.” He rested his hand on your cheek as you nuzzled into his hand you looked into his brown eyes, you could stare into them forever. He was gorgeous, nice, sweet, handsome, and very kind. You loved how kind he was to others, sure he was shy but once you got to know him he is the sweetest person you could ever meet. You just hoped that you were the only one who sees him exposed and vulnerable like this, “Fuck get on top of me, I can’t hold back anymore and I don’t want to hurt you.” he held your hip and started to lift them you grabbed his wrists, “Hurt me.” he grabbed your hips and flipped over so now you were on his lap, “Don’t be fucking crazy Y/n, you know you can’t take it.” you looked him in the eyes “Try me.”
His hands that rested on your hips were now gripping desperately on your hips grabbing every free surface on your body, as he elevated you into the air by your hips and began to start aggressively thrusting up into you. You bent down your head so that way his shoulder was muffling your moans but them being loud enough for him to hear. “Don’t back out now, you were so confident let me hear how good I make you feel.” His free hand ran through your hair, which you always loved because no matter how hard this man is pounding into you he will always show some kind of affection and love for you. “M-my tu- turn.” You told him as your words were shaking from the stimulation he was creating, sitting up you pushed his knees down the best you can and rested your hands on his chest for support as you started to ride him like your life depended on it.
Your thighs started to shake from the pressure being put in your knees, he noticed your body’s reaction and laughed to himself “I thought you said you got this?” you nodded your head and continued to riding him “Is my baby struggling to much, need help?” you shook your head. “Don’t ‘baby’ me, i thought we agreed. No nicknames.” His hand snaked up to your chest playing with your breasts “But why, I can tell you like it and I know you love it when I call you princess as well.” he wasn’t wrong you loved it when he called you nicknames, but you knew if he did that you would constantly be reminded of him every time you hear someone say that certain name.
“See…” he pulled you closer to him till you could feel his shaky breath on your ear, “… you might say that you don’t like it but your body betrayed you.” his cock twitched inside you as he kissed your neck. Staying quiet was the best option right now, you wanted to show him who can be dominant but whenever you try to he always gets his way and ends up having you underneath him, taking his cock. “Nothing to say?” You sit back up and looked at him in the eyes, smirking at him as your hand ran along his nipples teasing them while your other hand traveled to around his neck putting slight pressure on him. A soft moan left his lips as his eyes turned from lewd dominant ones to now softer doe eyes, “Harder, fucking choke me Y/n.”
No matter how hard your legs were shaking you still gave it your all and continued to pleasure the man underneath you, your hand that is around his neck tightened while the other hand continues to flick, pinch, and pleasure his nipple. He was a mess, his eyes would sparkle, his cock would twitch very frequently, his hips would squirm beneath you, he would try and push his hips up only to be rejected which would push his cock in deeper to you, and every swear he could think of as well as noises would leave his lips with every bounce you took.
“F-fuck… pl-ease please.” You grabbed his chin and made him look up at you “Please what baby?” his eyes couldn’t say on you for very long, they would roll back, look anywhere but at you. “Why won’t you look at me?” He started to squirm underneath you, his hands moved to your hips and pushed you up. You were confused because he still wasn’t saying anything except for moans that fell from his lips, “Y/n, off.” being extremely confused you obeyed his request and got off of him and looked at him. His eyebrows were knitted together, his hand rushed to his cock and stroked it vigorously and now is when you realized that he was gonna cum. That was why he told you to get off, squirming beneath you, saying ‘please’, you grabbed his wrist and pulled it away from his cock. “Did you ask?”
He ignores you and used his other hand since you were still holding his other wrist, you grabbed the other one which made him whine from the loss of stimulation. “Please Y/n, g-gonna cum.” His cock started to twitch against his abdomen, “No, you didn’t ask and now your being stubborn.” he whined and squirmed “Y/n-n don-t do this, p-please.” you let go of one of his wrists and used one of your hands to hold on both of his wrists. With your free hand you brought it up to his chin making him look up at you “Bad boys get punished.” he shook his head “But i’m a good boy, your good boy.” you looked at him ‘tsk’. “Can I please cum.” “Fine, but i’m not letting go of your hands, find a way to cum.” He whined at you as he looked down at his cock while he is now purposely making it twitch against himself for some sort of release, “Feels good?” his eyes were still focused on his cock “Not as good as you do it.” precum leaked from the tip and left a string from his tip to his abdomen. “Want my help?”
He finally looked away and looked back at you “Please.” the desperation in his voice was clearer than ever, “To bad you were a bad boy earlier.” he was now focused back on his cock as his lip fell in between his teeth, his hair was a mess, the ones in the front stuck to his forehead from his sweat that fell down on his face. His hips rutted up against you as well as his head being thrown back, you looked down at him and see spurts of cum leave the tip of his cock. His lips failed to muffle his moans while they were still trapped in between his teeth. Falling down from his high you let go of his wrists, he started to relax into the pillows until you wrapped your hand around his cock. This surprised him making his body jump, he frantically tried to grab at your wrists to make you stop him from being overstimulated but failed as his body jolted. “Y/n-n no mm-m-ore.”
He mumbled, “See now if you really wanted me to stop we both know the word would have been said by now.” moans fell from his lips while he was still trying to have you let go of his cock, following his instructions you let go leaving his second orgasm to be high and dry. Whining was heard from the man next to you “I thought you wanted me to stop?” he mumbled incoherent words with a pout on his face, you grabbed him by the chin and placed a kiss on his lips. He held the back of your head pushing into the kids more, he mumbled something on your lips not being able to understand you pulled back “What’d you say?” he shook his head “Not important.” trying to pull you back into the kiss “If you said it than it is.” “It’s stupid just ignore it, kiss me please.” “It’s not stupid please just tell me I wanna know.” he sighed “If I tell you can you keep kissing me?” you nodded to him “Fine, I said that I wish you wouldn’t leave.” “Leave what?” you tilted your head “Me.” he looked down as he played with his fingers “I would never leave you, unless you wanted me to.” you comforted him as he looked up. “Your perfect.”
He pulled you back into the kiss and he had you laying down next to him, “Jungwon, I know we agreed on things being just us hooking up but I really need to get this off my chest and I totally understand if you don’t want to keep having sec after-” “Quit blabbing, just tell me.” he said smiling “I like you, a lot and I completely understand and respect if you don’t like me b-” his lips cut you off as they were now on yours. “I like you too, maybe even more. Promise to never leave me.” you nodded “Promise.”
#smut#fluff#enha x reader#enhypen smut#heeseung smut#jake smut#jay smut#jungwon smut#sunghoon smut#sunoo smut
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For a character that virtually can’t die and regenerates in order to keep living, how do you make action interesting? Emphasize they still feel pain, why they’re doing it?
I'm actually going to step back a bit from this question first, and complement it. This is a very honest question, and something most writers who include violence in their work, should really think about. Even if you don't think you have characters like this, you do.
Now, I'm going to dunk on Ben “Yahtzee” Croshaw for a moment. Ages ago (I think it was in one of his Resistance reviews), Yahtzee described, “threatening to blow up the world,” as the laziest form of raising the stakes. Because, “hey, I live on a world.” He's mostly correct. Threatening your protagonist's life is even lazier. In the vast majority of cases, your audience knows you won't go through with it. That you won't kill off your protagonists.
With that in mind, when you decide your protagonist is completely immortal, that changes less about how you write them than you might expect. The biggest difference is simply that they're directly aware of their plot armor, rather than them engaging in faux indecision based on their perceived mortality. Again, this is something that every writer who uses violence should think about, at least a bit. It is natural for a character to fear for their life, and have reservations about risking their life, but making the part where your character's lives are on the line isn't automatically suspenseful. In a lot of cases (consciously or not), your audience will call your bluff, when you threaten to kill off a major character.
If you think back to major character deaths where something drops them without warning, part of what makes those scenes work is the lack of (apparent) setup. The writer didn't spend pages teasing you with the idea, they just went for the throat and ended that character on the spot. This is more respectful of your audience, because you're not telling them, “well, I might kill this character, or I might not.”
To be clear, I'm not saying that there's no place for teasing your audience with a character's impending demise, just pointing out that in a lot of cases, this won't generate the kind of suspense you'd hope for.
So, to get back on topic, how do you make it interesting? Remember that while this character can't die, the same is not true for the characters around them. Depending on the tone you're going for, you could create an absolutely brutal crucible effect, where everyone around your immortal gets burned off, sooner or later. Whether that's literal, or figurative, is up to you. Even if your character can't die, watching people they care about suffer and die is going to have an effect on them.
You probably don't need to draw special attention to the physical pain they experience, but you do want to be aware of it. Especially in the context of how pain affects the victim's behavior. Beyond that, there is probably an element of pain being far more annoying to the immortal than it would be to a normal person. They know it's not telling them anything meaningful, but it is distracting.
Long-term, both of these can easily result in personality shifts. And, legitimately, this is a scenario where a character may be immortal, but they would still experience significant changes over time, and with the growing emotional pain, could have very adverse effects on your personality. This does have some very real, “live long enough to see yourself become the villain,” potential. How many friends can you lose before you stop caring? How many funerals can you attend before you start taking the phrase, “you're either part of the solution or part of the problem,” a little too far? How many times can you pick yourself up off the pavement a blood-covered alleyway, surrounded by corpses, before you start to forget what made you human in the first place?
And, that's not the only option. The simplest answer for maintaining tension when one of your characters is immortal is keeping your eye on what they're trying to accomplish. Keep track of their objectives, because I guarantee they can fail those. Even just keeping their own nature concealed from the mortal world is probably fairly important, because of the idea that men in hazmat suits will drag them away to some research lab and poke them until they figure out how to replicate their immortality, is a classic (and potentially plausible) threat. (Bonus points, if you're wanting to loop in something like the medieval inquisitions, or some other secret societies that could pose this kind of a threat.)
So, what do you do? To dig out an old cliché threat, “there are fates worse than death,” and it's probably worth exploring them. This also opens up new possibilities for threats. Finally, it's worth remembering that immortality does not guarantee success. If your character is hoping for that, it might be time to give them a very harsh lesson.
-Starke
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Dm Tip: Playing the Villain/ Guidelines for "Evil" Campaigns
I've never liked the idea of running an evil game, despite how often I've had people in my inbox asking how I'd go about it. I'm all about that zero-to-hero heroic fantasy not only because I'm a goodie twoshoes IRL but because the narrative-gameplay premise that d&d is built around falls apart if the party is a bunch of killhappy murder hobos. Not only would I get bored narrating such a game and indulging the sort of players who demands the freedom to kill and torture at will (I've had those before and they don't get invited back to my table), but the whole conceit of a party falls through when the obviously villainous player characters face their first real decision point and attempt to kill eachother because cooperation is a thing that goodguys do.
Then I realized I was going about it all wrong.
The problem was I had started out playing d&d with assholes, those "murder and torture" clowns who wanted to play grand-theft-auto in the worlds I'd created and ignore the story in favour of seeing how much unchallenged chaos they could create. They set my expectations for what an evil campaign was, and I spent the rest of my time developing as a dungeonmaster thinking " I Don't want any part of that"
But what would an evil campaign look like for my playgroup of emotionally healthy friends who understand character nuance? What would I need to change about the fundamental conceit of d&d adventures to refocus the game on the badguys while still following a similar enough narrative-gameplay premise to a hero game? How do we make that sort of game relatable? What sort of power/play fantasy can we indulge in without going off the deepend?
TLDR: In an evil campaign your players aren't playing the villains, they're the MINIONS, they're mooks, henchmen, goons, lackeys. They're the disposable underlings of uncaring overseers who have nothing but ill intent towards them and the world at large.
Where as in a hero game the party is given the freedom to challenge and overthrow corrupt systems, in an evil game the party is suck as part of that corrupt system, forced to bend and compromise and sacrifice in order to survive. The fantasy is one of escaping that corrupt system, of biding your time just long enough to find an opening, find the right leverage, then tossing a molitov behind you on the way out.
Fundamentally it's the fantasy of escaping a shitty job by bringing the whole company down and punching your asshole boss in the face for good measure.
Below the cut I'm going to get into more nuance about how to build these kinds of narratives, also feel free to check out my evil party tag for campaigns and adventures that fit with the theme.
Designing a campaign made to be played from the perspective of the badguys requires you to take a different angle on quest and narrative design. It’s not so simple as swapping out the traditionally good team for the traditionally bad team and vis versa, having your party cut through a dungeon filled with against angel worshiping holyfolk in place of demon worshipping cultists etc.
Instead, the primary villain of the first arc of the campaign should be your party’s boss. Not their direct overseer mind you, more CEO compared to the middle managers your party will be dealing with for the first leg of their journey. We should know a bit about that boss villain’s goals and a few hints at their motivation, enough for the party to understand that their actions are directly contributing to that inevitable doom.
“Gee, everyone knows lord Heldred swore revenge after being banished from the king’s council for dabbling in dark magic. I don’t know WHY he has us searching for these buried ancient tablets, but I bet it’s not good”
Next, you need a manager, someone who’s a part of the evil organization that the party directly interfaces with. The manager should have something over the party, whether it be threats of force, blackmail, economic dependency… anything that keeps the antiheroes on the manager’s leash. Whether you make your manager an obvious asshole or manipulative charmer, its important to maintain this power imbalance: The party arn’t going to be rewarded when the boss-villain’s plan goes off, the manager is, but the manager’s usefulness to the boss-villain is contingent on the work they’re getting the party to do. This tension puts us on a collison course to our first big narrative beat: do the party get tired of the manager’s abuse and run away? Do they kill the manager and get the attention of the upper ranks of the villainous organization? Do they work really hard at their jobs despite the obvious warning signs and outlive their usefulness? Do they upstage their manager and end up getting promoted, becoming rivals for the boss-villain’s favor?
Building this tension up and then seeing how it breaks makes for a great first arc, as it lets your party determine among themselves when enough is enough, and set their goals for what bettering the situation looks like.
As for designing those adventures, you’ll doubtlessly realize that since the party arn’t playing heroes you’ll need to change how the setup, conflict, and payoff work. They’re still protagonists, we want them to succeed after all, but we want to hammer home that they’re doing bad things without expecting them to jump directly to warcrimes.
Up to no good: The basic building block of any evil campaign, our party need to do something skullduggerous without alerting the authorities. This of course is going to be easier said than done, especially when the task spins out of control or proves far more daunting than first expected. The best the party can hope for is to make a distraction and then escape in the chaos, but it will very likely end with them being pursued in some manner (bounties, hunters, vengeful npcs and the like). Use this setup early in a campaign so you have an external force gunning for your party during the remainder of their adventures.
Dog eat dog: It’s sort of cheating to excuse your party’s villainous actions by having them go up against another villain who happens to be worse than they are. The trick is that we’re not going after this secondary group of outlaws because they’re bad, we’re doing it because they’ve either got something the boss wants, or they’re edging in on the boss’s turf. This sort of plotline sees the party disrupting or taking advantage of a rival’s operation, then taking over that operation and risking becoming just as villainous as that rival happened to be. This can also be combined with an “Up to no good” plot where both groups of miscreants need to step carefully without alerting an outside threat.
The lesser evil: This kind of plot sees your party sent out to deal with an antagonistic force that’s a threat not only to the boss’s plans but to everyone in general. In doing so they might end up fighting alongside some heroes, or accidentally doing good in the long run. This not only gives your party a taste of heroism, but gives them something in their back pocket that could be used to challenge the boss-villain in the future.
The double cross: In order to get what they want, the party need to “play along” with a traditional heroic narrative long enough to get their goal and then ditch. You have them play along specifically so they can get a taste of what life would be like if they weren't bastards, as well as to make friends with the NPCs inevitably going to betray. This is to make it hurt when you have the manager yank the leash and force the party to decide between finishing the job , or risk striking out on their own and playing hero in the short term while having just made a long term enemy. This is sort of plot is best used an adventure or two into the campaign, as the party will have already committed some villainous deeds that one good act can’t blot out.
Next, lets talk about the sort of scenarios you should be looking to avoid when writing an evil campaign:
Around the time I started playing d&d there was this trend of obtusely binary morality systems in videogames which claimed to offer choice but really only existed to let the player chose between the power fantasy of being traditionally virtuous or the power fantasy of being an edgy rebel. Early examples included:
Do you want to steal food from disaster victims? in Infamous
Do you as a space cop assault a reporter who’s being kind of annoying to you? in Mass Effect
Do you blow up an entire town of innocent people for the lols? in Fallout (no seriously check out hbomberguy’s teardowm on fallout 3’s morality system and how critics at the time ate it up)
I think these games, along with the generational backwash of 90s “edge” and 00s “grit” coloured a lot of people's expectations ( including mine) about what a "villain as protagonist" sort of narrative might look like. They're childish exaggerations, devoid of substance, made even worse by how blithely their narratives treat them.
Burn down an inn full of people is not a good quest objective for an evil party, because it forces the characters to reach cartoonish levels of villainy which dissociates them from their players. Force all the villagers into the inn so we can lock them inside and do our job uninterrupted lets the party be bad, but in a way that the players can see the reason behind it and stay synced up with their characters. The latter option also provides a great setup for when the party's actually monstrous overseer sets the inn on fire to get rid of any witnesses after the job is done. Now the party (and their players) are faced with a moral quandary, will they let themselves be accessories to a massacre or risk incurring their manager's wrath? Rather than jumping face first into cackling cruelty, these sorts of quandaries have them dance along the knife's edge between grim practicality and dangerous uncertainly; It brings the player and character closer together.
Finally, lets talk about ending the villain arc:
I don't think you can play a whole evil campaign. Both because the escalation required is narratively unsustainable, but also because the most interesting aspect of playing badguys is the breaking point. Just like heroes inevitably having doubts about whether or not they're doing the right thing, there's only so long that a group of antiheroes can go along KNOWING they're doing the wrong thing before they put their feet down and say "I'm out". I think you plan a evil campaign up until a specific "there's no coming back from this" storybeat, IE letting the Inn burn... whether or not the party allows it to happen, it's the lowest point the narrative will allow them to reach before they either fight back or allow themselves to be subsumed. If they rebel, you play out the rest of the arc dismantling the machine they helped to build, taking joy in its righteous destruction. If they keep going along, show them what they get for being cogs: inevitably betrayed, sacrificed, or used as canon fodder when the real heroes step in to do their jobs for them.
Art
#dm tip#dm tips#writing advice#evil party#drafting the adventure#dnd#d&d#dungeons and dragons#blades in the dark#ttprg#pathfinder
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Butterscotch
W.C. - 1.8 k
All your life your only goal has been to be as kind as you possibly could be. It didn’t matter if your day had been good or bad, as long as you could make someone else’s day that much better then you were fine.
It carried on all throughout your life, going from the childhood innocence to the adult naivety. You’d do anything to cheer up a teammate or the occasional rival, seeing people sad was something you were uncomfortable with. That wasn’t difficult to see.
Growing up under the care of your grandparents taught you things that were unique, things that other children your age wouldn’t learn until years from that point. Experiences only growing up surrounded by older people could bring.
It taught you many miscellaneous things, but most importantly of all, it taught you that there was nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a piece of candy.
Both of your grandparents always had a small piece of candy with them, often a quick caramel or a butterscotch that would melt on your tongue. Anytime you fell and scraped your knees a candy wrapped in crinkly plastic would be handed to you and then everything would seem fine again.
It was something you picked up on, always having treats wrapped in crinkling paper in your shirt pocket or wherever else you could store it. You even had a special compartment sewn into all your football shorts pockets where you could fit a single sweet that wouldn’t fall out throughout all the ruckus of a match. One you would slip into your mouth as soon as the game was over no matter the result of the game.
You would always go fetch another sweet from your coat that you’d give to either the opponent or one of your teammates, depending on who won.
But ultimately whenever anyone needed a pick-me-up they knew where to find you, a sweet in your pocket just for them.
So when you finally broke through into the first team, you were quickly known throughout the Woso community as one of the nicest players. One that would slip children sweets when their parents weren’t watching.
That was something your girlfriend especially liked watching, the sneaky look on your face and the huge smile on the kid’s never failing to make her day.
You’d known of each other for a while before you became friends and later lovers, having roughly the same friend groups. You just never took notice of each other until she signed for Manchester United, the club having been your employers back then.
She was freshly out of college in America and decided to sign for your then club, you hearing through the grapevines that she needed a place to stay which led you to offer your spare room. It got lonely without anyone else there.
Out of seeming desperation, she accepted your offer and moved in the following week. It was awkward in the beginning, neither of you used to living with the other, leading to some embarrassing moments and some good life lessons. Never ever walk into your roommate’s room without knocking being just one of them.
Slowly you warmed up to the other, learning the other’s habits and quirks, a smoothly running household soon forming. As soon as a routine was created, a budding friendship started forming between the two of you, becoming thick as thieves in practically no-time (much to the chagrin of a certain United player).
It wasn’t until after you’d won the euros that the obvious feelings between the two of you were addressed, the alcohol fueled kiss shared at midnight much more telling than any words. Waking up hungover and in the same bed made for some hilarious excuses and even funnier stories from your teammates. You apparently hadn’t been able to keep your hands off of each other, insisting on sleeping in the same bed all cuddled up.
Since that magical night you had been dating, which was nothing short of amazing. She was all you could ask for and more, she was the breath in your lungs, your strength and your weakness.
And she always accepted a sweet treat from you.
It was no secret that Alessia Russo liked a butterscotch candy, something only highlighted by you and your pocket sweets.
Another non-secret was her love for your interactions with children. She couldn’t help the way her heart melted and how her thoughts ran wild, imagining your interactions with your future kids. She hadn’t even brought the thought of children up to you, it was her very obvious secret.
Alessia couldn’t avoid the teasing from your teammates who saw the obvious heart eyes coming out in full force as soon as you were near a kid, ruffling their hair or smiling at them kindly. You were teased just as much if not more for the constant heart eyes you exhibited towards your girlfriend.
After a win for Arsenal, the team takes a quick victory lap around the stadium, waving and smiling at your fans. It’s peaceful despite the shouts and yells of the frantic people, well peaceful until a piercing cry cuts through the air.
Your first instinct is to check on your girlfriend, to make sure that she’s okay and not hurt. Looking behind you, the sight of her baby blues meet you almost instantaneously. She looks fine on the outside, not like she’d screamed her lungs up only moments before.
Another heart shattering cry follows after the first one, you feeling like a belt is tightening around the circumference of your heart. Swiveling your head towards the crowd, you soon spot the little boy clutching onto his mother’s shirt tightly, tears streaming down his poor face.
Alessia’s attention is caught when she sees you walking towards the crowd, the shrill screams lowering little by little. She can only see the numbered shirt on your back, legs moving towards the little boy.
The boy looks at you in amazement when you’re close enough for him to see you, silent tears still falling down his chubby cheeks.
“Hi buddy!” You said in a soft voice, trying to calm him down. His mother looks at you, awestruck as her son but ultimately snaps out of it just enough to encourage her son to greet you back. “Why are you crying…” The woman fills in the blank in your sentence with his name.
“Timmy”
“Why are you crying Timmy?” Leaning down to his level, you see how his tears slow, no longer falling down his cheeks rapidly. Timmy shakes his head hastily, as if to say that he didn’t want to say. “Okay, you don’t have to tell me. You want to know what I do everytime im sad?” You ask the sweet boy, who can’t be older than 5.
The headshakes soon turn into frantic nods, the boy intrigued by what you did. Your hand moves back behind his head, fingers magically pulling a butterscotch candy out from behind his ear. The light gasp from the boy makes you smile, looking at his mother who gives you a nod. His small hands wrap around the crinkly plastic, the woman behind him nudging him, the boy quickly saying thank you.
“One of these and all my sadness goes away, why don’t you try?” The smile forming on your girlfriend’s face doesn’t go unnoticed by your teammates, a certain Irish woman sliding up beside her.
“Y/n’s very good with kids, ey?” She says, smirk overtaking her face.
“Yeah she is.” Alessia responds dreamily, eyes on your back.
“So, are you thinking about having some of your own?” Katie asks loudly, slinging her arm around Alessia’s shoulder and pulling her closer.
The brit chokes on thin air, coughing noisily to clear her airways. It attracts some attention from some straggling teammates but nothing out of the usual.
“Uhm, I don’t know. Not really.” She manages to get out, eyes tearing up slightly as coughs continue to escape.
“Don’t lie to me Less, we can all see it.” Katie explains softly, as if to let the girl down slowly.
“I don’t know if she wants any kids, that's the thing.” Alessia shrugs her shoulders in the Irish woman’s grip, looking down at the ground.
“Listen, just talk to her, okay?” She tells her protegee, glancing up to see you now standing in front of them shirtless and with a confused expression on your face.
“Talk to who about what?” Alessia’s eyes flit over your stomach, stopping at the sight of your abdominal muscles. The older girl nudges the number 23, leaving soon after. “So? Talk to who about what?”
“Baby, I’ll tell you later, okay?” She shoves her hands in her pockets, leaning into you when you wrap your arms around her.
After showering and changing into your comfy clothes, both you and Alessia are on your merry ways out of the stadium, going back to her car together. Settling down in the passenger seat, you can hear her sigh loudly and all of a sudden you’re filled with fear. Is she about to break up with you?
“Do you want kids?” She asks nervously, eyes shifting all around the car. You let out a surprised laugh, sighing and placing your hand over your chest.
“Oh thank you” You laugh out, eyes on the ceiling of the car.
“What are you talking about?” She asks confused, eyebrows knitting together adorably like they always did when she was confused.
“I thought you were going to break up with me.” She slaps your arm lightly, shocked that you’d even think of the possibility.
“But do you want kids?” Alessia repeats her earlier question, looking at you intently.
“Hmm, yeah I want two or three tots running around and wreaking havoc” You shoot her a smile, the softness in your eyes shining through.
“That’s good, because I want kids too”
“With me?” Now it’s your turn to be confused.
“Who else dummy?”
“Why would you want to have kids with me?!”
“Because I love you, and you’d be an excellent mother” Alessia tells you tenderly.
“You’d be an even better mother my love” She blushes at your compliment, hiding her face in her shoulder.
When you’ve arrived home and put your pajamas on, it’s finally time to lay down on the sofa and cuddle for all eternity, your head settling down on her chest with your body slotted between her legs.
“Can one of our kids be named Morrison?” Your voice comes out muffled, the warmth of your breath seeping through her pajama shirt.
“No.”
Having your own kids wasn't going to happen for ages, so for now you had to settle for raising a stuffed animal.
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