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merakiui · 7 days

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ebb and flow.

yandere!floyd leech x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, dub-con, nsfw, stepcest, obsession, getting high/use of edibles, reader is implied to have small breasts, octavinelle trio is human in this story, au with no magic, brief mention of alcohol use, brief mention of implied somnophilia, reader and trio are 18 in the last scene of the story (in case it isn't clear) note - like the tide, floyd's interests ebb and flow. you happen to be more than a passing fancy.

When he’s old enough to put his thoughts into words, Floyd declares, rather obnoxiously, that girls are gross and he wants nothing to do with them.

“All they ever wanna do is talk about dolls and dresses,” he laments, scuffing his shoe against the cobbles.

“You know I’m a girl, right?” You scoff and turn your nose up, mildly offended. “And not all girls are like that. I’m not like that.”

And it’s true. You give as good as you get. You lunge after Floyd when he yanks your favorite toys out of your hands or when he tugs on your hair, every infraction intentional. He knows just how to rile you up enough for you to give chase. You’re keen to wrestle him in the mud on rainy days in the same way he’s willing to race you up and down the streets to prove outlandish points.

Growing up with two brothers—though they aren’t your family by blood, referring to them as your step-brothers is a knotty mouthful you prefer to avoid—taught you things you never would have learned if you had a sister.

Perhaps their presence served to stoke the fires of playful violence—meaningless quarrels that were resolved in a matter of minutes, often punctuated with halfhearted apologies. Once, in the middle of a particularly nasty brawl, you kicked Floyd in the jaw and knocked his front tooth free. Morbidly amused, Jade applauded you for the show. Floyd held his bruised face in one hand, glaring viciously as blood dribbled from his lips. He reeled his arm back, but it never landed. Your father chewed the lot of you out before he could throw the punch.

“What are we going to do with you?” your mother would say while she patched the both of you up. “Always fighting like this… That’s not very nice now, is it?”

The twins’ mother died shortly after giving birth and so they never knew the concept of a mother until five years later when their father remarried. It was then when you joined their family of three, and the twins had taken to their new mother like fish in water. Adoringly, they would tug on her skirt and demand attention. She was all too happy to indulge them, lifting them into her arms one at a time.

“You know that means Mama and me, don’t you?” you add, skipping ahead of him.

“That’s different. Mama doesn’t count. She’s special.”

“What about me?”

Floyd takes one look at you and smiles that mean, mocking smile. “You’re even worse. You’ve got girl germs.”

You don’t bother granting him a head start. He’s already running.

On the cusp of a growth spurt, his face peppered in pimples, Floyd is only fifteen when you chase him out of your bedroom.

“Get out! Get out! Get out!” Your piercing shrieks and Floyd’s raucous laughter echo through the halls, drawing the perpetually curious Jade out of his room like a worm from an apple core.

He’s greeted with the sight of Floyd, who has clasped your bra around his head and is now parading about proudly. A plush octopus flies after him and smacks into the wall. Seconds later, you burst from your room with embarrassment painted on your face.

“Oh my.” Jade observes the scene unfold from behind his fist. His mismatched eyes glitter with mischief.

“You’re so tiny! Your boyfriend’s gonna fall in love with a shrimp!” Floyd sticks his tongue out at you. “Shrimpy (Name)! Shrimpy (Name)! I’ve got a shrimp for a sis!”

“That’s not funny, and Azul’s not my boyfriend!” You reach for him, but he avoids you with an agile sidestep. “Knock it off! Give it back!”

“But it fits me better.”

“It does not!” You turn to Jade and gesture wildly at Floyd, who is now batting his lashes like a princess. “Don’t just stand there! Help me out.”

“Oh, I’m afraid I’m much more suited to the sidelines. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your fun.”

You grit your teeth. “You ass—”

“So much noise! What in the world is going on here?”

Your mother makes her way up the stairs just as Floyd tugs the bra off his head. You round on her before the twins can.

“Mooom, Floyd’s being gross. He stole my bra and won’t give it back.”

“Huuuh. No way. She’s totally framin’ me. I don’t have her bra.” Floyd folds his arms over his chest, feigning innocence. “That’s just icky. Why would I have it anyway?”

“Indeed,” Jade agrees coyly, pretending to search for it. “No bra in sight.”

“You’re liars—you and Jade!” You sneer at them. They merely smile angelically. “I’ll kick both of you in your dicks if you don’t—”

“(Name), mind your language!” Sighing, your mother issues both boys a stern frown. “Floyd, sweetheart, it’s not nice to tease your sister. You as well, Jade. Return what you stole and apologize.” She bends down to retrieve the fallen plush and passes it to you. “You too, (Name). You’re family. Family shouldn’t fight.”

“I don’t owe him an apology.”

“And I don’t have her bra.”

“He’s lying! Floyd was in my room, digging through my clothes.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-huh!”

Jade smiles wide enough to reveal the braces on his teeth. “Now that (Name) mentions it, I did see Floyd sneaking about. Oh, but maybe that’s not right. I only caught a glimpse, after all.”

Floyd has no reason to look so betrayed. Jade oscillates between sides whenever it sates his hunger for amusement. Today, as luck would have it, he’s on your side. For now.

“If you’re as innocent as you claim, surely there’s no reason to keep your arms clasped behind your back.”

“You really don’t have anyone’s back, do you?”

“Floyd…” Your mother looks at him expectantly, her eyes soft despite her tone.

He thrusts his arm out and drops your bra. “Fine. Take it back. Wasn’t havin’ any fun with it anyways.”

“Honestly, you’re such a pervert,” you snap, swiping it from the floor. “Next time you wanna come in my room, you’d better knock first. How would you like it if I went into your and Jade’s room and stole one of your shirts?”

He sticks his tongue out at you, defiant like the brat he is. If your mother wasn’t standing behind you, you’d have exacted your revenge right then.

“(Name), be nice to your brother. Floyd, apologize to your sister.”

Floyd doesn’t look you in the eyes when he spits a mean-sounding, “Sorry.”

Jade can only snicker, feasting on this live entertainment like it’s the richest meal.

“And I’m sooo sorry you’re annoying and everyone’s gotta put up with you.” With an exasperated huff, you strut back into your room and slam the door shut. It locks with a loud click.

“Give her some time. She just needs to cool down,” you hear your mother explain. “But, really, you should know better, Floyd. It’s not right to go into anyone’s room and take their things.”

“I would never do something so egregious, Mother,” Jade admits, which you find hard to believe because he’s just as sly, if not more so, than his twin.

“She’s just mad I’m funnier than her,” Floyd says. A blatant falsehood if you’ve ever heard one.

You could never understand Floyd’s obsession with your laundry. Maybe he was just your typical hormone-addled teenager with nothing better to do but fantasize about women and their undergarments, and seeing as you were the only girl he was close to—both in age and as siblings—who else could bear the brunt of his delinquency?

Or it had nothing to do with that at all, and he was just determined to be as much of a pest as possible.

Back then, that made sense.

Back then, you were foolish.

Back then, you didn’t know. No one did. Not really.

Lying between your brothers, lost in thought, you stare at the plastic stars and planets pasted to your ceiling. A dulcet adagio trickles out of the tiny speaker on your bedside table. The honeyed vocals soften the static in your brain, snuffing every burden with beautiful bossa nova. You soak in every lyric, imagining yourself in the singer’s position: falling for someone in midnight blue, blooming beneath their touch, your dress falling to your ankles, exploring each other’s shorelines…

The fantasy floats away as soon as Floyd opens his mouth, and you’re brought back to reality. No lover in your arms. No midnight blue. No flowering feelings. No dress.

“When’s this stuff supposed to kick in? I don’t feel a thing.”

“Patience,” Jade murmurs, practically melting into the mattress. “You’ll know once it happens.”

“Well, I don’t. Your shit sucks.”

“As does your attitude.”

“Whatever.” Floyd snuggles closer to you, pulling your arm into his chest. “What about you, Shrimpy? You feel it yet?”

“Mmh, sorta… I dunno. Don’t call me that.”

“Once a shrimp, always a shrimp.”

“I did offer the other half.”

“I’ll take it if I feel like it.” You shake Floyd off and pout at Jade. “Mom and Dad’ll lose it if they find out, you know.”

Jade flashes his teeth at you in a cheeky grin. “I’m counting on you to be a sweet, dependable sister and keep my little secret safe.”

“Lips are sealed.”

“What a good pet you are. So obedient.”

You exhale a soft, gasping laugh. “You’re so weird.”

“But you’re smiling.”

“Only because you’re weird!”

He giggles and leans in close, his nose brushing yours. When he speaks again, it’s in a softer tone, near-hypnotic. “So you do feel it.”

“Maybe.”

With a petulant whine, Floyd presses himself against you from behind. “No fair. I wanna be all silly like you and Jade. Gimme the other half. I’ll take it right now.”

“You can grab it.”

“You’re closer.”

“Alas… My limbs are lead.”

“Asshole,” Floyd gripes, leaning over you and Jade to swipe the box from the bedside table. He often keeps his stash there. Sometimes it’s stocked with gummy edibles or mushrooms, all wrapped in plastic. Jade’s resourceful like a squirrel, crafty in ways you can’t fathom.

Today, you’re holed up in your room because you have a bigger bed. There are fairy lights strung up on the walls, providing the space with just enough dimness for you to see your surroundings. It’s the perfect ambience for this slow, lazy Saturday in November. Your parents are out for the afternoon and won’t be back until later, and you couldn’t be any happier to have the house to yourself.

As soon as the door shut, you exchanged knowing looks with your brothers and hurried back to your room. Jade told you he’d take you and Floyd to his favorite spot in the forest after midterms and then the lot of you could truly kick back and relax with some pre-rolls. He’d invite Azul and make it a picnic in the woods. A whole day filled with fun. In your heart, it would be a date. Your brothers would just be the unwanted third and fourth wheels.

Really, you could care less about getting high. Azul is more than a drug—he’s oxygen—and you crave him like an addict feens for a fix. Floyd thinks your crush on him is stupid and misplaced. You beg to differ. You’ve admired him since childhood. How could you possibly fall out of love now?

Floyd flops back into the empty space beside you, chewing the rest of the gummy worm. His arm drapes across your waist. “What’re we doin’ tomorrow?”

“I’m going to the library to study with Azul.”

“Lame.”

“You’re not invited.” You roll over on your side to address him, speaking slowly. “Don’t show up.”

“Now I kinda want to. I wanna see what you and Azul get up to.”

“Studying.”

“Mmh, I doubt that.” Jade sticks to you like moss, his eyes fluttering shut. “Azul’s studying, at least. You’re daydreaming.”

“Not my fault he’s cute.”

“I’m cuter.” Floyd’s lips turn down in a disappointed moue. “Ain’t I cute?”

“No way. You’re ugly.”

“I’m inclined to agree.”

“No one asked you, Jade. ‘Sides, ain’t that basically the same as sayin’ you’re ugly, too?”

“I dunno,” he mumbles dumbly, the words muffled in your shoulder. “What do you think, (Name)?”

“Get yourself a girlfriend and then you can ask her.”

“Won’t you be my stand-in girlfriend?”

“Yeah, that’s good.” Floyd curls his fingers around the strap of your tank top. He tugs it up and down your arm in a languid rhythm. You’re floating amongst the clouds, your mind filled with a pleasant fuzz, so scolding him isn’t a priority. “Forget about bein’ our sis for a sec.”

“Get lost.”

“How cold…” Jade sniffles.

“Shrimpy’s ruthless.”

“Stop calling me that.”

Floyd’s hand crawls across your chest to grope you through your shirt. “Mmh, nope. Still small.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“I think you’re sized just right.” Jade’s spidery digits creep along your hip and splay across your stomach. “Azul won’t even notice. He doesn’t pay attention to your assets like we do.”

“I wish he would.” You meet Jade’s half-lidded stare. “Does he talk about me?”

“In what context? You’ll need to be specific,” he purrs, and if you weren’t swimming in bliss you’d elbow him in the mouth.

It’s like pulling teeth with Jade. He makes things so irritatingly difficult for no reason.

“You know the context.”

“Sometimes he says stuff,” Floyd replies instead. He rests his head in the crook of your neck and inhales the sugary notes of your perfume.

“Good stuff?”

Vibrating with a woozy warmth, you squirm between your brothers. It’s stifling being in the middle of their sandwich, but the proximity is pleasing. Comfortable. Reassuring. You feel like an anchored ship between the both of them, safely pinned down amidst the tumultuous waves of your bedsheets. You sigh dreamily when Floyd’s legs twine around yours.

“He thought your sweater was real cute.”

“Which one?”

“All of ’em.”

“Hmm. Okay.” But that doesn’t satisfy you. “What type of girl is he into?”

“Why don’t you make him your boyfriend? Then you can find out,” Jade says.

He aims for a sharp smile and falls short. It mellows out into something stupid and lopsided. He thinks he’s the funniest creature on the planet, and in this moment he is because the retort has you snowballing into a fit of giggles.

“Maybe I will.”

Floyd tracks your throat as it bobs with every swallow. He glances at your jaw next, at the glitters speckled on your cheeks. They sparkle like miniature stars, an entire galaxy imprinted on your skin. “You’re wearin’ makeup.”

“Hm?”

“Perfume, too. Smells good.”

“I bought some when I went to the mall.”

“When?”

“Last week? Two weeks ago? I can’t remember.”

“You doin’ it for Azul?”

“Who else? Certainly not you.”

Floyd scowls at Jade. “Don’t answer for her. I wanna hear it from her.”

“You’re my brother. Why would it be for you?” you mumble, more confused than unsettled.

Obviously it’s for Azul.

“Why not? It’s not fair other guys get to see ya lookin’ this good. Why should I be excluded just cuz I’m your brother?”

His lips drag against your neck. There’s nothing special about his affection. It’s dubiously platonic, but you’re used to it. He’s always been prone to expressing himself through physical means. Too-tight hugs, pecks on the cheek, a gentle squeeze in clasped hands. It was cute when you were children, but now you’re seventeen and it’s getting harder to explain his clingy nature.

“I don’t care what other guys think.”

“Just Azul?” Jade prompts, toying with the hem of your top. His fingers slide beneath it to prod at your navel, and suddenly Azul is no longer the most important part of this conversation. “Have you ever considered piercing it?”

“What? My belly button?”

“Ooh, good idea. You could match jewelry with us. How about it? I’ll getcha some sturgeon scales.”

“Mom’ll kill me.”

“In that case, we’re both dead.”

You blink at Jade, searching for the meaning in his mismatched hues. He opens his mouth, unfurling his tongue to reveal the venom piercing. The shock washes over you like a wave, and just as it’s receding it hits you—what you’re looking at.

“Your tongue! You actually—since when?”

“Two weeks.”

“What the hell! Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve come with. Moral support and stuff.”

He laughs when you nudge him. “It wasn’t so bad. I’d like to get more.”

“Does Dad know?”

“Not at all.”

“Dangerous.”

“Thrilling,” he corrects, a minacious glint in his gaze.

“Jade’s changin’ up his whole look. Super cool, ain’t it?”

“And what about you?” You turn over towards Floyd. His hands settle on your lower back. He all but tugs you away from Jade, who frowns and shuffles closer until his hips press against your ass. You feel his mouth at your bare shoulder, lavishing it with little pecks. “Do you want more piercings?”

“You into guys with piercings?”

“I don’t really care. Piercings are great. Tattoos, too.”

“Then I’ll get a tattoo.”

“So it’s settled. (Name) will pierce her navel, and Floyd will get a tattoo.”

“Sure,” you agree, but you don’t expect anything to come out of it. Just a random idea thrown around in the haze of your high.

You’re closer than family should be, but that’s the last thing on your mind when you’re twisted between them. This is normal. At least, it’s the normal you’ve grown up with.

What isn’t normal, though, is Floyd’s insistence that he ought to shape himself into the man of your dreams when, clearly, the man of your dreams goes by the name of Azul Ashengrotto. But you’re not worried. It’s always said in jest, or you assume it’s in jest.

In the back of your mind, you wonder if Azul would like you more if you had a pretty piercing to show off.

You’re weeks away from prom when Azul says yes.

“Wait… Really? Seriously?”

“I was under the impression we were all going,” he says with that charismatic chuckle you love dearly. “As a group, yes?”

Your hopes plummet alongside pieces of your heart. “Oh. Y-Yeah, right. A group. Of course.”

“I do appreciate the poster, though.” He holds it up as if it’ll reveal a secret message when caught in the sun. The cartoon octopus you spent hours sketching, lining, and coloring smiles back at him. “‘It would be so tenta-cool if you could be the sea to my shore at prom.’ How ingeniously cheesy.”

Your laughter is hollow. That’s the last time I’m asking Jade for advice on ocean puns.

“I’m glad you think so… Hey, you’re coming over before the dance, right? We’re thinking of doing something.”

“A party before the party?” Azul rolls the poster up and carefully fits it into his messenger bag. It sticks out from under the flap. “I’m not opposed. What did you have in mind?”

“We could get dinner.” Just the two of us. “Whatever you want, really. My dad’s planning to send us there in a limo. Real classy, y’know.”

Azul falls into step with you. “If that’s the case, we might as well go all out.”

Sensing an in, you stare at him. “The girls in my class are going on and on about how prom’s gotta be this magical thing. It can’t get more magical than a fancy car.”

“Goodness. It’s really not that special. You can’t exactly put ‘Prom Queen’ on your resume now, can you?”

“No, but you can make lots of memories. So I was thinking—hypothetically, of course—if you’d wanna go as, like, my fake date. Like, we’re going as a group and everything, but if you want we could get flowers for each other and match outfits and�� B-Basically, I’m just trying to see if there’s any merit to what they’re saying about prom. About it being magical with a date.”

“Hm… That’s true. It will be our final social event before we graduate and go out into the world. Our last chance to say and do whatever we’ve neglected in previous years.”

“Right.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” His stare is fixed firmly on the path ahead. “Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

“So…” You swallow your anxieties; your heart is in your throat. “So you’ll be my hypothetical date?”

“I would be honored.”

“Okay. A-All right… Yeah! Great!”

Azul’s pretty blues briefly flick over to you. His cheeks are tinged pink. “Wonderful. I… I’m pleased we’ve worked this out. All hypotheticals, naturally.”

“Yeah, definitely. Just hypothetical.”

“Did…you have a color in mind? Have you picked a dress yet?”

“Something pink or purple. Maybe red. I’m not really sure.”

“Blue would be very flattering on you.” As an afterthought, he scrambles to add, “But that’s just another hypothetical.”

You watch the way he wrings the strap of his bag. “I agree. Blue’s a good color.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I could wear you.” You regret it the moment it leaves your mouth, even more so when Azul raises a bewildered brow. “B-Because your name—no, sorry. That’s dumb. I don’t mean it in the crazy-murderer-who-skins-you-alive way. I meant in the way that’s like—”

“Cheek to cheek?”

“Yeah. No, yeah, that’s right.”

What am I saying? None of this makes any sense.

Azul laughs and nudges you playfully. “You can wear me. Hypothetically, I’m your date to the dance. It’s only right that I act as your accessory for the evening.”

“Then… T-Then let’s be each other’s garments!”

He hums his approval and the conversation dies there.

You make the rest of the walk out of school in awkward silence. At the gates, Azul turns to you.

“None of this is hypothetical, is it?”

You heave a relieved breath. “Not at all.”

“Then allow me to do away with pretending. I’ll be your prom date. Factually.”

“My factual prom date…”

“It…doesn’t sound as smooth as a hypothetical.”

“But it’s real.”

He smiles shyly. “That it is.”

On the night of prom, alone in an empty corridor, Floyd yanks you into a rough kiss. The music from the ballroom is so loud you can faintly hear it from down the hall. It pulses through you with energetic vibrations, joining your panic in an unsteady duet. You push at Floyd’s chest, struggling against the wall he has you pinned to. He breaks off halfway just to savor your gasp before moving in to reclaim your mouth. It’s a ravenous action. He kisses you like he intends to devour you, licking and nipping at every possible crevice. His teeth click against yours as he endeavors to taste the wine at the back of your throat—courtesy of sneaky, rebellious Jade and his discreet water bottle.

Finally, after gathering enough strength, you shove him off of you. He stumbles, hurt flashing across his face. Ferociously hot up to your ears, your heart stumbling in your rib cage, you can’t believe it. You don’t want to believe it.

That wasn’t real… No way…

Still processing it, you smudge your lipstick when you wipe the drool from your mouth.

You and Floyd watch each other in silence. You’re waiting for him to break it. He’s waiting for you to run away.

“What…was that?”

“You were cozyin’ up to Azul—”

“Because he’s my date!”

“Yeah, but you—Shrimpy, c’mon, you know we agreed to go as a group…”

“And so what? That doesn’t give you the right to kiss me. I was going to—I had an entire plan for this. Azul was gonna be my first kiss!”

“Well, now he’s gonna hafta be second.”

You sputter in shock. “You—you’re so… I just… Wow.”

Floyd’s face hardens and softens and then hardens again. He looked like a kicked puppy a few minutes ago, cowardly and small, but now there’s determination smoldering in his stare.

“I like ya. I like ya a whole lot.” You open your mouth to protest, but he beats you to it. “More than a sister.”

And there it is—the truth you couldn’t confront.

Your frustration withers and blooms anew in a complicated tangle of weeds. “You…like me. Like… Like me, like me?”

Floyd cards a hand through his slicked hair and exhales a heavy breath. “I mean… It’s obvious, ain’t it?”

“Floyd, I… I’m sorry, but I like Azul. You know this.” Now it’s your turn to cut him off before he can speak. “You’re family, Floyd. My brother.”

“So what?”

“It’s wrong, that’s what! We’re family. That’s all we’ve ever been… Look—I don’t have time for this. Azul and Jade are gonna wonder where we went. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

You brush past him, hoping to leave this conversation here and pick it up after the dance. But Floyd won’t have that. He seizes your wrist and tugs you around.

“Just…” He avoids your stare. “Just hear me out, okay? I just wanna love ya.”

“So love me like a normal brother.” You try to pull yourself free, but he holds firm. “I really don’t have time to argue. Actually, this isn’t something I should have to argue in the first place.”

“We’re not related in that way. It’s fine, isn’t it?” He grabs your waist and drags you close.

“Mom and Dad won’t think so. Azul won’t. Honestly, Floyd, let it go. We’ll talk later. Please just—”

“You really don’t get it, do you?”

You inhale slowly, forcing yourself to remain calm. “No, I don’t. I really don’t.”

“I’ve wanted ya longer than Azul—than Jade. Longer than anyone. And I never got to have ya.” Floyd plasters you to the wall again, but this time he slots a knee between your thighs. “Drove me crazy every time I saw ya walkin’ around the house in those stupid shorts or when you’d bring your friends over and you’d wear that stupid nightgown. The soft one with the lace and bows. The one that’s so thin it shows your shrimpy tits.”

Your glower is so blistering it could melt him down to his bones. “You’re disgusting.”

“Maybe.” He laughs, but it isn’t funny. “Didja know? I wanted to kiss you in your sleep. Touch you all over. Stick my fingers in you and watch you squirm… Feel how tight you are when you cling to my cock. You’re still a virgin, ain’tcha? Azul hasn’t done it with you yet, right?”

You yelp when his hand slips under the ruffles of your dress and climbs up your thigh. “W-Wait—stop! Don’t—”

“Gonna take that as a no.”

“Floyd—”

“See? Can’t you say my name instead of his? You don’t gotta daydream with me around. I’ll make you feel good. You don’t need that stupid dildo when you’ve got me.”

His fingers press against the outline of your pussy, teasing you through the fabric. Your body goes rigid. “Y-You can’t… Not here. Someone might see.”

“Let ’em. Then they’ll know you’re all mine.” Floyd noses your throat and deflates against you, hedonistic and selfish. “You always smell so fuckin’ good. Like candy. Sweet and yummy. Makes me wanna bite you and never let go. Taste your shrimpy heartbeat in my mouth…”

“S-Seriously…” You squeeze your eyes shut and bite back a whimper when he squeezes your clit. “Get off of me. You can’t—you’re my brother.”

“Nah. Brothers don’t go around stealin’ their sister’s stuff and usin’ it to get off, do they?”

It occurs to you that you should be furious with him. He deserves more than just your ire. Instead, you can only feel intoxicated as you listen to him ramble filth.

“Remember that pair of panties you thought was clean? The ones with the stain.”

“Yeah, the ones I use when I’m on my period—”

“Not those. The other one.”

“W-What—” You slap your hand over your mouth to muffle your gasp. He rubs you in slow, deliberate circles. With dimming focus, you try to think of anything else—of boring, bland things—to fight off mounting arousal. “What about it?”

“I had that pair wrapped around my dick before you put ’em on.”

“So that was—the stain was—”

“Mhm.”

“Ew! You’re the worst! That was my favorite pair, Floyd!”

He snickers. “At least it wasn’t you. My old man’ll beat my ass if I knock ya up. Had to use the next best thing.”

“Use your hand, dumbass! Don’t use my stuff!”

“Then stop fuckin’ yourself on your dildo. I hear you through the bathroom door, y’know. Moanin’ like you’re in heat. All of it for Azul. I wanted to come in and help ya out every time, but I couldn’t. And that really ate at me.”

“I don’t want your help,” you spit, glaring.

“No? But you’re so wet. I think my fingers will slip riiight in.” He pulls your panties to the side and prods at your folds. “You wanna test it?”

You shake your head a second too late. Floyd’s already pushing two fingers inside. The breath sticks in your throat. He’s actually doing this, right here in the open. Someone could turn down the hall and spot you. That someone could be—

“A-Azul might catch us. Stop. You really can’t…”

“Aww. What? Don’t want Azul seein’ you like this? Don’t want him to see the mess you’re making? Don’t want him knowing you like being wrapped around your brother’s fingers?”

He’s mean when he curls them suddenly, a brute and a bully all at once. They press against wet, velvety walls, and the noisy squelch leaves you shuddering. You breathe heavily, little huffs that tremble sweetly as he stretches you out.

“S-Shut up. You’re a pervert.”

“That makes two of us.”

You yank him closer by his tie, intending to be threatening and failing. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“Sure you are.”

Without warning, he reaches for your chest and yanks your strapless dress down to reveal your breasts. Your perky nipples poke out against the lingerie tape. He whistles lowly while he marvels at them.

“Still the same pair of shrimpy tits.”

“Nuh-uh. I went up a size.”

“Yeah-huh. I would know. I steal your bras all the time. Same cup size, Shrimpy.”

“So you’re depraved and shameless.”

“No reason to hide it anymore.”

He drags his fingers out and thrusts them back in. You choke on a stifled moan. Deep down in a logical corner of your brain, you know you shouldn’t submit so easily. It’s wrong, but you can’t stop the pleasure that washes over you with every stroke of his fingers. It sends pleasant bolts of bliss up your spine. Your knees wobble, and your thighs are sticky with your slick. When he grinds his thumb against your clit, forcefully insistent, something in your stomach snaps. You come undone in an instant, crashing against a sinful shore. Orgasm wracks through you in a powerful tremor, shaking the thoughts in your skull like a disturbed ecosystem in a terrarium.

Unrelenting, he fucks you through it. You’re boneless in the aftermath, chest heaving and mind reeling.

Floyd’s fingers glide out with ease, shimmering with your juices. He puts them in his mouth to savor the taste of you, his tongue slithering between the space of both digits. Horrifyingly, you admire him as he licks himself clean. Even though you shouldn’t, you wish desperately to feel that muscle inside you, working you towards another grand peak.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You’re still in a daze when Floyd fixes your panties and dress. You look presentable, if not slightly debauched. Your makeup is a mess, and Floyd’s all too eager to fix it for you. You stand still when he wipes at the corner of your mouth with his thumb and then carefully applies lipstick. Within no time, you’re back to how you were.

“Lookin’ good,” he praises, stuffing the tube in his pocket. “The prettiest Shrimpy at the party. They should make you Prom Queen.”

You swat at him. “Don’t…” And then you sigh. What does it matter? He’s going to call you that regardless of what you think.

Thankfully, the slow dance is only just beginning when you return. You find Azul lingering near the wall, tapping anxiously at his phone. Jade’s also there. Physically. You can’t say the same for his head. He’s taking a trip in his own mental paradise. Floyd stalks after you, his hands stuffed in his pockets. If you didn’t just squirt around his fingers minutes ago, you would’ve assumed the atmosphere of the party was to blame for his euphoria. But you know the real reason.

Azul doesn’t, though.

So it’s with a guilty heart when you lead him onto the dance floor for a waltz.

Your childhood crush—the guy you’ve loved more than life itself—is right in front of you, looking at you like you’ve hung the stars, but the only one you can think of is your step-brother.

That can’t be a good sign.

Floyd joins Jade in his corner. He gazes through him and offers his water bottle. It’s nerdy enough for its contents to be unassuming, what with its mushroom print, but Floyd knows better than to take it at face value. Even so, he grabs hold of it and downs what’s left of the wine. It’s so sweet it sticks to the roof of his mouth.

“Azul’s not staying the night, is he?”

“I’m not sure.” Jade finds you and Azul in the crowd of dancers and hums. “How cruel of you to want to separate them.”

“He’s not gettin’ laid tonight if that’s what he thinks. Not if I can help it.”

“I don’t think he even knows how.”

Floyd laughs. “Nah. He knows.”

“Does he now?”

“C’mon, Jade. He undresses her every time he looks at her.”

“I suppose so.” He smiles moonily, distracted. “She’ll never let you.”

“She won’t let you either.”

“I don’t mind a little pain. To be bloodied and bruised by her gentle hands… I know of no greater exhilaration.”

Floyd rolls his eyes. “Azul’s got it lucky. He gets to hug and kiss her whenever he wants. Meanwhile, I’ve gotta pretend like I don’t wanna fuck her shrimpy brains out every time I get a whiff of her perfume.”

“The odds aren’t very favorable, but I suspect you’ve already had your fun.”

Floyd grins wickedly. “She’s cute. I couldn’t help it.”

“I must agree. She sounds sweetest when she’s caught in the throes of pleasure.”

Floyd starts to nod and then pauses. “How do you know—”

“Oh my. It appears I’ve said too much.”

“No, no. Keep talkin’. You haven’t said nearly enough.”

“You’re not her only brother, you know.”

Floyd thinks there’s more to that sentence, but Jade isn’t willing to get into the details. Not here, at least. He doesn’t have to pry too deeply to understand the hidden implications.

“Asshole. You went and did it before I could.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jade giggles. “A little midnight snacking never hurts. She’s soft and snug inside. Very warm.”

Floyd shoves him away. “Fuck off.”

As long as it’s not Azul, he thinks, watching him as he spins you like a gentleman. Anyone but him.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere floyd leech #yandere floyd x reader #yandere floyd leech x reader #yandere floyd #n/sfw #tw: stepcest #tw: dubcon

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kaizokuou-ni-naru · 3 months

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i got this ask that i accidentally deleted in the course of trying to answer it, but i still want to address it because i think the core question it posits is really interesting, though maybe not in the way anon intended. to me, what this is really asking is: 'why do people like one piece's villains even when they commit atrocious acts?'

i will confess i think the concept of 'defending' fictional characters is pretty silly on its face. characters aren't real people and their actions have no real life moral weight. they're tools to tell a story; their value is in how they contribute to the story that is being told. and in this sense, one piece's villains are tremendously valuable, because each and every one serves to elaborate on and reinforce the greater themes of the story in some way.

oda is very good at writing villains who are both entertaining and compelling, and blackbeard is both. you can take any villain in one piece and ask: why are they the way they are? what do they value and desire, and what are they willing to do for it? what does the way they interface with concepts such as freedom, ambition, dreams, joy, and power say about the story's commentary on those concepts overall? what makes them similar or different to luffy?

consider: what does it say about the story that blackbeard is the one who articulates for us that people's dreams never die? what does it say that many of his traits (gluttony, hedonism, ambition, reckless confidence, friendliness) are luffy's as well? what does it say that he's also a D? and then what does all of that mean when taken together with the fact that he does not fight fair, that he trades people into slavery and killed his own crewmate, that he and luffy instantly dislike each other on first meeting? what does it say that he's searching for the strongest to recruit in impel down, while luffy is searching for ace? what is the story saying about both blackbeard and the world government by having them engaged in the same human trafficking trade?

these are all really interesting questions that add depth to the story! obviously many of blackbeard's actions are detestable and the story is clear in presenting them as such, but if you stop your analysis of him there and view him as simply evil, i do think you miss out on the complexity of his role in the story and what he contributes to the manga. i personally find him absolutely fascinating, and consider him to be an extremely compelling villain.

#one piece #jonny answers #not japanese #opmeta #character meta #blackbeard #luffy

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southaway · 9 months

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Tzedek Tzedek Tirdof and Tikkun Olam

Long post, buckle up. I have Feelings.

This concept is something I've been turning over in my head for awhile and trying to get the composition right. So I guess a quick history lesson for people who don't know yet (though I feel like it's becoming common knowledge) the comic book industry exists because of Jewish people. DC, Marvel, and everything that came after. Superman, Batman, Spider-Man, Captain America, and SO many others came from Jewish writers and artists. And try as people might, it is impossible to separate that from these characters. My roommates and I (three Jews and a goy, but like a cool one) are specifically into DC and were talking a while back about the core ideas of Superman and Batman. And yeah, the first things that probably jump to most peoples' heads are maybe hope and fear, justice, maybe the American way or whatever is happening in New Jersey. And yeah, to an extent I think that's right but it's not the whole story. See, what seems clear to us is that Superman and Batman specifically embody two Jewish principles: Tikkun Olam and Tzedek Tzedek Tirdof. A quick-ish and simplified explanation:

Tikkun Olam (Superman) is at the heart of Judaism. It means repairing the world, and while there is a more complex religious and ritualistic meaning, the broad takeaway is that it is our job to make the world a better place. You can't save the world but you have to try. It's hope. While the light is shattered it can be repaired and it is our duty to do what we can, to put good out into the world no matter how large or small. What matters is that you try, you always try.

Tzedek Tzedek Tirdof: Justice, Justice you shall Pursue! (Batman) Another core of Judaism. Tzedek Tzedek Tirdof is not merely the pursuit of justice, but justice for those who need it most. The most vulnerable, the people at the greatest disadvantage, that continue to be hurt the most.

And when Superman and Batman are being written well, written correctly they embody these ideas. These characters and their stories where not created in a vacuum, nothing is. They where made by Jewish men, sons of immigrants. Their ideas of the world and concepts of justice would be inherently Jewish. Tikkun Olam and Tzedek Tzedek Tirdof are the definition of justice and making a better world for Jewish people. These characters and the stories they tell and the ideas they exemplify are and always have been at their heart Jewish. Try as some people might you can't take that away, it is sown into their creation whether you know it or not. We won't be removed from our own narratives.

#dc comics #superman #batman #kal el #bruce wayne #clark kent #kal el is NOT a jesus allegory #he's clearly a moses allegory #judaism #digital art

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utilitycaster · 2 months

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Daggerheart Character Build thoughts!

I am actually out at work and haven't checked the version that's since come out, but I did participate in the character build beta, and the NDA is officially lifted, so here's my thoughts from that! It's definitely limited since I just made a L1 character and didn't go through gameplay, though I surmise about some aspects of gameplay.

Overall, it clearly seems to be made by people who love a lot of things about D&D 5e but wanted both more flexibility and more simplicity, which is difficult. I think they succeed.

To that end, it takes away some of the crunchier aspects (precise positioning, exact amounts of gold) and I think for some people that will be a problem, and that's valid, but ultimately this game wants to both allow for interesting mechanics in and out of combat while also not being terribly math/map/resource management heavy. It is a hard line to walk; most systems either go hard crunch or go entirely gooey.

The dice mechanic (2d12, Hope and Fear system) is fantastic; look it up but I think it handles mixed successes more gracefully and interestingly than a lot of games.

The playtest was not super clear on armor and evasion choices (or indeed what evasion means; it seems to be sort of initiative but sort of dex save, or maybe more like the Pathfinder/old school D&D varying ACs by scenario?). It was much, MUCH clearer than D&D on weapon choices (part of why I play casters? Weapon rules in D&D are annoying and poorly explained and many people rightfully ignore them) so I'm hoping this becomes clear when there's a full guide rather than just the character creation info.

The character creation questions by class were fantastic and in general, and this is a theme, this feels like it guides people towards collaboration. FWIW I feel like D&D has that information, but the way it's presented is very much as flavor text rather than a thing you should be doing. Daggerheart makes this a much more core part of creation. The Experience mechanic is particularly clear: you better be working with your GM and really thinking about background, rather than slapping it on as a mechanic.

The other side of character creation questions is that it really encourages engagement with the class, which is something I've talked about. I think either subversion for the sake of subversion, or picking a class for the mechanics and aesthetic but not the fundamental concept, will be much harder to justify in Daggerheart, and I think that's a good thing because when people do that, their characters tend to be weaker.

The downtime is designed for you to write hurt/comfort fanfic about and this is a compliment. There are a number of mechanics that reward RP, particularly one of the healing mechanics under the Splendor track. I feel like a weakness of D&D is that when you try to reward RP it's really nebulous because there's not actually a ton of space to put that - you can give inspiration, but, for example, the empathy domain Matt homebrewed actually feels kind of off because it's based on such fuzzy concepts amid mechanics that are usually more rigid. Daggerheart comes off as much cleaner yet still RP-focused, and I'm excited to see it in action.

A judgement of Candela and I suppose Daggerheart might be that it's designed for actual play. I've mentioned before that I know people who are super into the crunch and combat and numbers of TTRPGs and are less story-oriented, and again, that's valid, but actual play is just storytelling using a ttrpg and so yes, a game that encourages RP while also having mechanics to support that and influence it is an extremely good goal. I am not an actual player, but I do like D&D games with a good plot and not just Go Kill Monsters, and I want to play this. (I also have some real salty thoughts about how if you modify an existing game for AP purposes that's staggering genius apparently, but if you make your own game how dare you but that's another post).

And now, the classes/subclasses. I am going to sort of use D&D language to describe them because that's a point of reference most people reading this will understand, but they are not one-to-one. A couple notes: everyone can use weapons and armor. HP is not totally clear to me but it seems to be threshold based - everyone has the same HP to start but people have different thresholds and armor, so the tank classes have the same amount of HP but are much harder to actually do damage to.

All classes are built on a combination of a subclass and two domains. There are 9 classes and 9 domains. This technically means that if you wanted to fuck around and homebrew you could make up to 36 classes (27 additional) by just grabbing two domains that weren't otherwise combined, which is fun to consider for the potential. Anyway I cover the classes and briefly describe domains within them. You can take any domain card within your domain, regardless of subclass.

There are six stats. Presence, Instinct, Knowledge, and Strength map roughly to Charisma, Wisdom, Intelligence, and Strength. Dex is split into Agility and Finesse; Agility covers gross motor skills (jumping, most ranged weapons, "maneuvering") and Finesse finer ones (lockpicking and tinkering, though also it does cover hiding). The really big wins are first, no CON score, so you don't need to sink stat points into something that grants no skills but keeps you alive. The second one is that the "hybrid" classes spellcast from their physical stat. This is fucking fantastic. The thing about ranger or paladin or the spellcasting subclasses of rogue and fighter in D&D is that if you don't roll pretty well you're locked into the core stats and CON and nothing else. (This also doesn't have rolling for stats: you assign +2 to one stat, presumably your main, and then distribute two +1s, two 0s, and one -1.)

Your HP, Evasion, and Thresholds are set by class, and there's a core ability; the rest is all from the cards you take for subclass and domain.

Leveling up is very much based on taking more domain cards (abilities) but has a certain degree of flexibility. It's by chunks: in leveling up anywhere levels 2-4, you can, for example, increase your proficiency by +1 once, so if you wanted to do that at level 2 but your fellow player wanted to wait until level 4 and take something else at level 2 instead, they could. It allows for more min-maxing, but also everyone has the same level up rules and differs only in the abilities on the cards, which is very cool.

Bard: Grace (enchantment spells) and Codex (learned spellcaster stuff; the spells available are definitely arcane in vibes) based, Presence is your main stat. The two subclasses map roughly to lore-style stuff and eloquence. Core class ability is sort of like inspiration but not entirely. It's a bard; I like bards a lot, and this is very similar vibes-wise to your D&D bards. If you like D&D bards you will like this.

Druid: Sage (nature spells) and Arcana (raw magical power spellcaster stuff), Instinct is your spellcasting/main stat. The two subclasses are elemental but frankly cooler than circle of the moon, and a more healing/tranquility of nature focused one. I really think Marisha probably gave feedback on this one, because the elemental version is really strong. You do get beastform; it is quite similar to a D&D druid under a different system, as the bard, but the beastform options are, frankly, better and easier to understand.

Guardian: Valor (melee tank/damager) and Blade (damage). Strength based for the most part (Valor mechanics assume strength) though you could go for like, +2 Agility +1 Strength to start. This is barbarian but like. 20 times better. It is, fundamentally, a tank class, and it is very good at it, with one even more tank-focused subclass and one that is more about retaliatory damage. You do have a damage-halving ability once per day, but really guardian's questions are incredible. I think Travis and Ashley likely gave feedback. Also rage doesn't render you incapable of concentration as that doesn't seem to be a thing, so multiclassing seems way more possible (you are, I think, only allowed to do one multiclass, and not until you reach level 5 minimum, which I am in favor of). Yes, you can be a Bardian.

Ranger: This is what I built! It is based on Sage and Bone (movement around the field/dodging stuff) and it is Agility-based, including for spellcasting, which is a MASSIVE help (as is, again, the fact that CON isn't a thing.) The subclasses are basically being really good at navigation, or animal companion. Most importantly to me you can be a ranger with a longsword and you are not penalized; Bone works with either ranged weapons or melee.

Rogue: Midnight (stealth/disguise/assassination spells and skills) and Grace-based. Yes, rogue is by default a spellcaster, which does help a LOT with the vibes for me. One subclass is basically about having lots of connections (as a spy or criminal might) and the other is about magical slinking about. Hiding/sneak attack are also streamlined. I will admit I'm still more interested in…almost everything else, but I think it evened out a lot of rogue weaknesses.

Seraph: Splendor (healing/divine magic) and Valor. This is your Paladin equivalent. It is strength-based for casting, again making hybrid classes way less stressful. Questions for this area also incredible; you do have something not unlike a lay on hands pool as well. Your subclasses are being able to fly and do extra damage; or being able to make your melee weapon do ranged attacks and also some extra healing stuff, the latter of which is my favorite. Yasha vibes from this, honestly. Single downside is this is the only class where they recommend you dump Knowledge. I will not, and I never will. Now that I don't have to make sure CON is high? I am for REAL never giving myself less than a +1 Knowledge in this game.

Sorcerer: Arcana (raw nature of magic/elemental vibes) and Midnight based. Yes, sorcerers and rogues now share a vibe, for your convenient….less enthused feelings. Instinct-based, which intrigues me, and the core features are in fact really good. The two subclasses are either one that focuses on metamagic abilities, or one that is elemental based. I would play this for a long-running game, though it's not my favorite, and I can't say that for D&D sorcerer (except divine soul).

Warrior: Blade and Bone, and the recommended build is Agility but you could do a strength build. Fighter! One subclass is about doing damage and one is about the hope/fear mechanics core to the game that I have NOT talked much about. I will admit, the hybrid martials and Guardian are more interesting to me but you do have good battle knowledge.

Wizard: Codex and Splendor. Wizards can heal in this system; farewell, I will be doing nothing else (jk). Knowledge-based, and you can either go hardcore expertise in knowledge, or be a battle wizard.

Other scattered thoughts: healing is not as big a deal here; there is no pure cleric class! There is also no monk, warlock, or artificer. There is not a way to do monk as a weaponless class really though you might be able to flavor the glowing rings as a monk weapon and play a warrior. Wizard, meanwhile, with the right experiences and high finesse, would allow for some artificer flavor. Cleric and Warlock are the two tough ones and I will admit those are tricky; I feel like you'd have to multiclass (which you cannot do until level 5) between perhaps seraph and a caster class and you're still going to come off very paladin.

#critical role #daggerheart #ttrpg mechanics #long post

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galacii-gallery · 2 months

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Shattered Fates AU: The Beginning [ Chapter 1. ]

Read it on Ao3 ( Edit: fixed the problem )

read it below! [ Exclusive Images Included ]

The battlefield, where it began… adorned with statues of the villagers they knew before, ruined buildings that used to be tall… the stump where their ‘mother’ laid. It was all there, and they were too… the guardians of this world, ending it all again with conflict. Such a cruel fate, these two. Arrows pierced in tar, while on the other side of the field was a skeleton covered in yellow, dripping from their chest and skull, a tendril impaled the being; keeping him still in this. The two souls looked to each other… one hoped that the other would give up, the other had differing intrusive thoughts.

“Again, I win and you… the hero of this story.”

he pulls the drowsy target close, face to face with a grin he then speaks truthfully.

“...you’re dying- certainly not like every other fairy tale huh?”

Coughing erupts from the dreamer, then they glance up to Nightmare

“...you’re right.”

even in their weak state, they smile

“though next time, perhaps this story of ours will have a nicer end.”

“Next time? Ha- you wish.”

the triumphant sneered.

“ I don’t wish, It just happens.. Though I doubt you’d understand.”

Dream then spoke of a distant concept, one believed that only particular humans could possess.

“not this time, not the next… not the four hundredth either… ha, will things ever change?”

“You’re insane… crazy even, you should know that we only have one chance.”

their head disdains, vision starting to get drowned by yellow. A faint whisper left his teeth, silence filled the air.

The entity looms over, it was clear by now it ate his brother entirely in this life too.. It ‘freed’ them from their sadness.

Nightmare brought his hand to Dreams neck, holding it up and softly told them.

his grip loosened, the Dreamers head dropped more. One part of Nightmare felt.. Bad, however it was flooded out by the images which it provided; how Dream was the one to bring this upon himself.. By not helping but instead fighting what he has become.

. . .“Finally kicking the bucket?”

“Maybe things will change... In your next run possibly?~”

The Nightmare commented, after hearing Dreams' continuing silence.

Their grin twisted and contorted, his tone became that of someone making fun of the other.

A thud could be heard in the place where it all began, a vision of Nightmare walking away from the scene… turned to pitch black. The ringing in Dreams head began to vanish, becoming hushed.

Their words haunted dream, next run?... ha. Sure, next run. Then we’ll see what’ll change… surely.

Dream lifts their head with the last of the energy that stayed within their core, something began to break in him… not just his heart. Their sunken eyes, the one not broken hues darkened; tainted by the battle.. Finally went out.

White noise, a quiet place again... pitch black and empty. They saw this so many times, he lost count.

“Again, I win and you… the hero of this story.”

he pulls the drowsy target close, face to face with a grin he then speaks truthfully.

“...you’re dying- certainly not like every other fairy tale huh?”

Coughing erupts from the dreamer, then they glance up to Nightmare

“...you’re right.”

even in their weak state, they smile

“though next time, perhaps this story of ours will have a nicer end.”

“Next time? Ha- you wish.”

the triumphant sneered.

“ I don’t wish, It just happens.. Though I doubt you’d understand.”

Dream then spoke of a distant concept, one believed that only particular humans could possess.

“not this time, not the next… not the four hundredth either… ha, will things ever change?”

“You’re insane… crazy even, you should know that we only have one chance.”

their head disdains, vision starting to get drowned by yellow. A faint whisper left his teeth, silence filled the air.

The entity looms over, it was clear by now it ate his brother entirely in this life too.. It ‘freed’ them from their sadness.

Nightmare brought his hand to Dreams neck, holding it up and softly told them.

. . .“Finally kicking the bucket?”

“Maybe things will change... In your next run possibly?~”

The Nightmare commented, after hearing Dreams' continuing silence.

Their grin twisted and contorted, his tone became that of someone making fun of the other.

A thud could be heard in the place where it all began, a vision of Nightmare walking away from the scene… turned to pitch black. The ringing in Dreams head began to vanish, becoming hushed.

Their words haunted dream, next run?... ha. Sure, next run. Then we’ll see what’ll change… surely.

White noise, a quiet place again... pitch black and empty. They saw this so many times, he lost count.

“Again, I win and you… the hero of this story.”

he pulls the drowsy target close, face to face with a grin he then speaks truthfully.

“...you’re dying- certainly not like every other fairy tale huh?”

Coughing erupts from the dreamer, then they glance up to Nightmare

“...you’re right.”

even in their weak state, they smile

“though next time, perhaps this story of ours will have a nicer end.”

“Next time? Ha- you wish.”

the triumphant sneered.

“ I don’t wish, It just happens.. Though I doubt you’d understand.”

Dream then spoke of a distant concept, one believed that only particular humans could possess.

“not this time, not the next… not the four hundredth either… ha, will things ever change?”

“You’re insane… crazy even, you should know that we only have one chance.”

their head disdains, vision starting to get drowned by yellow. A faint whisper left his teeth, silence filled the air.

The entity looms over, it was clear by now it ate his brother entirely in this life too.. It ‘freed’ them from their sadness.

Nightmare brought his hand to Dreams neck, holding it up and softly told them.

. . .“Finally kicking the bucket?”

“Maybe things will change... In your next run possibly?~”

The Nightmare commented, after hearing Dreams' continuing silence.

Their grin twisted and contorted, his tone became that of someone making fun of the other.

A thud could be heard in the place where it all began, a vision of Nightmare walking away from the scene… turned to pitch black. The ringing in Dreams head began to vanish, becoming hushed.

Their words haunted dream, next run?... ha. Sure, next run. Then we’ll see what’ll change… surely.

White noise, a quiet place again... pitch black and empty. They saw this so many times, he lost count.

. . .

[ * You need to live on. ]

[ * Wake up. ]

. . .

But what’s the point? It’ll repeat once more.

Attempts to prevent their downfall failed, the least the world could do was let him rest once more in this quiet place.

. . .

[ * You don’t have that choice. ]

. . .

[ * I believe that you'll change fate. ]

. . .

The Silence was soon broken, birds began to chirp and the light was starting to invade their resting place, the ray landed on the skeletons- they were both laying on top of a hay pile, dozing away from prying eyes.

they mumbled a bit, struggling to sleep before waking up in a cold sweat, their arms wrapped around themselves before settling on their ribcage. Even after going through this several times the phantom pain still gets to them.

after investigating It was clear that they were staying in a farm shed, a place where he and his brother would stay when they’d get the chance to; better than sleeping in those stone-like beds. Besides the dreamer was their brother, well what they were before the incident… still asleep.

...There was a brief moment where their imagination had gotten rid of it woke up- thinking of that even for a moment sent chills up their spine, what was wrong with them?

Soon after they brought themselves up from the makeshift bed, leaving the other behind. Dream walked to the door, making sure to stay quiet.. Their hands pushed and the rays poured in, waking their brother in the process- suddenly they brought up their hands, trying to combat the sun by blocking it from their face

“mmmgh…”

his expression scrunched up.

“Shut the doooor-”

the response to this was a slight chuckle from Dream, after they spoke

“I’ll let you get back to your beauty sleep Night… though it’d be bad if Mr. Neriah found you hum?..”

The other jumped awake, stumbling up

“Gods no-”

he sighed, placing their hands on their head- saying in a defeated tone

“...I still remember how he made us clean the entire basement-”

a pause came out of their brother... they had caught what their sibling called them, confusingly they said

“Night?? Who- you know my name!-”

they were then cut off with

“-Because we didn’t show up for morning prayer! It’ll surely happen again if we don’t get there soon-”

they grinned a bit

“you’ll get your name out of my mouth once you beat me there yeah?”

Dream rushed to the door, swinging it open.

The door began to shut as one of the Skeletons left. They jumped up and scurried, putting on their worn out jacket

“Wait up!- wait up- I'm getting ready-”

they then followed, making sure the door wouldn’t slam on the way out.

“Jeez, aren’t you up and ready for this!”

they sighed as they finally began to catch up

“You normally avoid it..”

Dream quieted down for a second, thinking of what he'd say back then.

"...Just have a hunch, trust the gut! especially mine!"

The two strolled towards the Village from the farm shed, it was full of life, Humans and Monsters in harmony… working together to make things work, buildings in which they made.. Bakeries and shops galore; but in the very center of it was their ‘mother’. But even in this ‘paradise’ there were still things wrong, they should know this well. As they continued some waved, others looked at them in distaste… the two were used to this treatment, Dreams brother was just glad that group of kids weren’t here. Their brother was starting to notice the glares given to them… To ease tensions growing, Dream then asked.

“Think we should grab something after?”

their brother paused, thinking

“But we don’t have the money- you know this- interrupting the other”

tsk-

“who knows, a miracle could happen!”

The twin looked away slightly, surely if miracles happened it’d be better to hope on something else other than bread.. A real family, maybe?

“...Sure. let's say if one were to happen, who’d get it?”

Their brother jested, Dream beamed, smiled even

“Both of us, Brother.”

he suddenly pressed his finger on his brother's nose, causing them to kind of push Dream away a bit afterwards holding their precious nose

“you should know I wouldn’t leave you behind… or out of things, especially a meal.”

Dream mentioned, even after everything they didn’t exactly want to leave their brother out of the good things which fate provided. Their brother was grateful that he wouldn't be left behind if that were to happen.

“Now since that’s done-”

Dream clapped their hands together, now approaching the church.

“Let's say hi shall we?- haven’t seen everyone in a while.”

the other was confused about that last bit, raising a brow- considering they had just seen the others the day before.

“...We just saw them yesterday?..”

the Dream told them in kind

“Those hours felt like days.”

Now time for their 'grand plan'

They snuck into the establishment, making sure to step on the floor which didn’t creak. Being barefoot has its perks… navigating around the place was easy, they had been there many times.. Dream had even memorized the pattern in which they’d have to go however... their brother wasn’t as fortunate to remember. A sound emerged beneath their feet- fear arose. Silence came after. . . the anticipation of something happening was ruined with the pitter patter of footsteps- not as loud as an adult but it still frightened them.

. . they stared at where it was coming from, the door at the end of the hall-

They were expecting it to be Mr. Neriah was going to be there at any moment but thankfully they were saved, a monster… one with a burn across their face arrived and greeted the two.

“Never seen you two arrive this early- is it a special occasion???”

they eagerly waited for a response, the rabbit crossed their arms.

“or did you fear that Mr. Neriah would give you that task?...”

Dream spoke up.

“Well, maybe. Just had a hunch something would’ve happened if we were late again!”

Felix commented after the other was done, then glanced to Dreams brother.

"Epiales you need to sneak up your game if you want to avoid it."

Nightmares name before the incident. Dream had almost forgotten it, but with this reminder it brought a weight off his shoulders.

Dream knew that very well… they had repeated this many times, mainly cause one of them couldn't sneak that well.

“Anyways that's fair, you could’ve been cleaning the outhouse next- after all it’s on rotation this week.”

“Whew, looks like we dodged a bullet…”

Epiales seemed a bit stunned at this, relief seemed to wash over him- while Dream acted normal as if they knew that was the outcome.

Dream spoke, un-phased. Felix then began waving them along, urging them to follow.

“Come now- be thankful later things are about to start!”

...There was a brief moment where their imagination had gotten rid of it woke up- thinking of that even for a moment sent chills up their spine, what was wrong with them?

“mmmgh…”

his expression scrunched up.

“Shut the doooor-”

the response to this was a slight chuckle from Dream, after they spoke

“I’ll let you get back to your beauty sleep Night… though it’d be bad if Mr. Neriah found you hum?..”

The other jumped awake, stumbling up

“Gods no-”

he sighed, placing their hands on their head- saying in a defeated tone

“...I still remember how he made us clean the entire basement-”

a pause came out of their brother... they had caught what their sibling called them, confusingly they said

“Night?? Who- you know my name!-”

they were then cut off with

“-Because we didn’t show up for morning prayer! It’ll surely happen again if we don’t get there soon-”

they grinned a bit

“you’ll get your name out of my mouth once you beat me there yeah?”

Dream rushed to the door, swinging it open.

The door began to shut as one of the Skeletons left. They jumped up and scurried, putting on their worn out jacket

“Wait up!- wait up- I'm getting ready-”

they then followed, making sure the door wouldn’t slam on the way out.

“Jeez, aren’t you up and ready for this!”

they sighed as they finally began to catch up

“You normally avoid it..”

Dream quieted down for a second, thinking of what he'd say back then.

"...Just have a hunch, trust the gut! especially mine!"

“Think we should grab something after?”

their brother paused, thinking

“But we don’t have the money- you know this- interrupting the other”

tsk-

“who knows, a miracle could happen!”

The twin looked away slightly, surely if miracles happened it’d be better to hope on something else other than bread.. A real family, maybe?

“...Sure. let's say if one were to happen, who’d get it?”

Their brother jested, Dream beamed, smiled even

“Both of us, Brother.”

he suddenly pressed his finger on his brother's nose, causing them to kind of push Dream away a bit afterwards holding their precious nose

“you should know I wouldn’t leave you behind… or out of things, especially a meal.”

“Now since that’s done-”

Dream clapped their hands together, now approaching the church.

“Let's say hi shall we?- haven’t seen everyone in a while.”

the other was confused about that last bit, raising a brow- considering they had just seen the others the day before.

“...We just saw them yesterday?..”

the Dream told them in kind

“Those hours felt like days.”

Now time for their 'grand plan'

. . they stared at where it was coming from, the door at the end of the hall-

They were expecting it to be Mr. Neriah was going to be there at any moment but thankfully they were saved, a monster… one with a burn across their face arrived and greeted the two.

“Never seen you two arrive this early- is it a special occasion???”

they eagerly waited for a response, the rabbit crossed their arms.

“or did you fear that Mr. Neriah would give you that task?...”

Dream spoke up.

“Well, maybe. Just had a hunch something would’ve happened if we were late again!”

Felix commented after the other was done, then glanced to Dreams brother.

"Epiales you need to sneak up your game if you want to avoid it."

Nightmares name before the incident. Dream had almost forgotten it, but with this reminder it brought a weight off his shoulders.

Dream knew that very well… they had repeated this many times, mainly cause one of them couldn't sneak that well.

“Anyways that's fair, you could’ve been cleaning the outhouse next- after all it’s on rotation this week.”

“Whew, looks like we dodged a bullet…”

Epiales seemed a bit stunned at this, relief seemed to wash over him- while Dream acted normal as if they knew that was the outcome.

Dream spoke, un-phased. Felix then began waving them along, urging them to follow.

“Come now- be thankful later things are about to start!”

They continued down the church hall, entering the foyer where the rabbit resided- following on they were soon gathered with the rest of the orphans. Most were monsters, the others humans… seeing the two enter made a few of them run up to the older siblings. Dream greeted them with ease, while Epiales stood slightly back not wanting too much attention- even with that though there were some they would interact with commonly.. Like the small feline Monster in a dress, their chosen name being Caspera. They showed off their dolls' new dress to Epiales and then he complimented it.

“Gloria’s dress is very nice, did you have Mr. Neriah help you make it?”

the smaller one shook their head- then pointed to themselves exclaiming

“Made it mythelf!”

They were proud of their accomplishment. after they pat their chest a bit and spoke proudly -

“no help thith time!”

The skeleton gave a sound of awe and then he placed their hand on Caspera's head, patting it slightly.

“I can’t wait for you to open up a store, I’m in dire need of new clothes and I love your style.”

He then gestured to their own clothes, Epiales was wearing a worn down jacket- it was handed down to him through someone who had previously been here. He then pointed at Dream and made it clear

“You should too!- your belt is practically falling apart!”

Epiales and Caspera continued their conversation, Dream started his own- with Felix. He sighed, looking at his homemade belt and pulling on it lightly, he really should get something new… maybe around the upcoming festival?.. they then turned to Felix. would there be any point in replacing it knowing what will come tomorrow?

someone, presumably dream hollered back, Epiales snickered a bit.

Caspera’s expression beamed, it was always their dream to be a tailor, to make things that they’d be content with… that their big brothers and sisters would be happy with too!

“...So any luck finding that hidden cache?”

Felix huffed a bit, then expressed

“not here, though I might let you in on what I found afterwards.”

he placed their hands on their hips, and stared at their belt.

“Need the funds from it for a new one don’t ya?-”

Felix teased, Dreams face flushed up in response.

The doors opened once again, a shadow covered the group.. A creepy light swayed back and forth and the children suddenly scattered. But the younger ones recollected by the figure which had entered- a few ‘Mr. Neri’s’ were said… some even said a few 'Papa Neri's'. The priest who ran the church was a Anglerfish monster, and despite their looks they were quite the angel- acknowledging the younger ones with nods and small greetings as they made their way to the pulpit. The priest opened the book, glancing over it and soon after to his kids.

They raised a brow once they saw the twins amongst the crowd- his voice rasped

“Good morning my children…. It seems like everyone is here, that is great- amazing even, we can keep this up… yes?”

Dream and Nightmare laughed nervously knowing it was directed towards them in general. Father Neriah then told the group.

“If things continue, perhaps a reward is in order… who likes the idea of getting a grand feast at the festival. my children?”

small gasps could be heard, clearly these kids were hyped towards the idea- then they all looked to the twins, urging them to keep this up! Stopping the glares, Father Neriah began to say

“Anyways, Now my children… Are we ready to give thanks to our mother Nimeeta?”

Also known as Nim, Nimeeta’s name was shortened due to religious views on speaking her full name. It is only permitted by high ranking priests, ones who hold similar views to the all-mother. neriah brought his hands apart, forming a sort of pose, a prayer pose one which resembled the two emotions coming together in unison.. The right hand represented the positivity in the world, the other Negative emotions both were equal in power and could influence the world. The children followed, a few of the younger ones messed up but were corrected after a few minutes. Neriah found this entertaining, seeing such young souls do their best. Now to what needed to be said.

. . .The prayer began, and Mr. Neriah spoke.

“ Our Mother Nim blessed us with life, giving up her divine form and created the tree of life; it breathed existence into us and our paradise.”

he shifted his arms to flip the emotions, reversing their positions

“Nim, a being of pure emotion, split her essence in two and gave it up for her guardians, her sons and daughters in future generations.”

he took a moment before continuing on

“We are grateful for the guides given to us, the two who protect the tree and the emotions which it holds… which we hold dear.”

Father Neriah then brought up

“ The emotions that were captured by the tree, souls that were given a chance to return to their Mother after their time was up… ”

lastly

“ We hope to find the new guides during this years festival, so that we may see your vision for us Mother.”

he then gives a bow.

“ Thank you mother…”

his hands clasped together, gently forming a connection between their hands

“We all give thanks for you listening to us, may we part with ease.”

he then loosened their grip before parting their hands, representing how Nim had parted their soul.

After all was said and done, the children rose once Mr. Neriah was done with their morning prayer. Dream would normally skip this all together.. It left a sour taste in his mouth, after all it was ‘Nim’ who cursed them with this repeating dream of his. Dream sighed a bit, it was always hard to get through that-

“Why the long face?-”

Felix asked.

“I- uh it’s nothing, really.”

He that wasn’t the case- so they surprised the other by pinching their cheeks a bit-

“Wh- hey let go!"

Felix narrowed their eyes, countering with

“not until you let me in on whatever's going on-”

they paused then said

“don’t tell me those punks are messing with you and Epi again!?”

Dream shook their head, denying their accusations.

“No, just feeling a bit under the weather I guess?..”

Felix chirped back.

“well… if you’re like that maybe you shouldn’t see what’s in the cache eh?-”

Dream blinked, bringing himself to then say

“Man you really want to know don’t you??”

he huffed a bit. giving in.. but he knew that chance wouldn't come.

“..fine on the condition it happens after the festival.”

Felix thought about it, nodding in agreement- putting their hand after this too

“shake on it?"

Dream rolled their eyes, shaking their hand

"Fine I'll shake on it”

some sort of sorrow showed on his face as he made this ‘deal’... would there ever truly be a day after the festival where they could meet and let secrets be free? It seemed unlikely.

Epiales and Caspera finally brought themselves over to the rest of their little group.

“So what now? Should we go find out what that miracle you mentioned would bring us?”

they didn’t believe such miracles could happen, but were curious none the while. The smaller one commented

“ miracle? I want a miracle! Ariadne can I go pleathe? “

Ariadne, Dream's given name… how ironic how he and his brother would be given these names huh? Dream looked down to Caspera

“If you can keep up, then yes- yes you can Cas”

Caspera jumped a bit in joy, and hugged their doll tight.

“Gloria we're going to the village! we can get all the thweetths!”

Felix turned to Dream and Epiales, smiling.. It’s not everyday that Dream lets Caspera join in. He was always worried that they’d get themselves hurt especially with the bullies which roam around, he’s glad to see the change.

“So what’re we still doing hanging around here- lets go before Mr. Neriah thinks we’re trying to set up a bucket again, yeah?”

the Rabbit mentioned. Dream nodded- Epiales looked at Dream- so they were the reason that water got dumped all over their dad!?- and he got thrown under the bus for it... that's why they cleaned all of that!?- oh he’s so going to get back at Ariadne later. Seeing Epiales reaction, Felix not realizing what he said earlier...

“heh heh- oops?...”

Dream sweated a bit, just feeling their brother's death gaze on him and Felix- grabbing Felix's hand he kind of rushed themselves out of the building.

Dream and Felix went outside and continued on into the village, even if Felix was the best runner it caught him by surprise just seeing how much strength and stamina that Dream held.

“Ha- Why the rush? Your brother isn’t that scary-”

Dream then paused, turning to Felix- his expression was serious but changed to a more calm one.

“..I know, I just fear what he’ll do in the future because of that.”

Felix pushed Dream a bit, not so rough if anything playful

“like what, mark your body with a sharpie?”

A long pause came after.

“...maybe.”

a burst of laughter came from Felix

“Really? That’s what you’re worried about- you scared me for a second.. Thought something more serious would happen.. especially after that look ya gave.”

Dream punched their shoulder, his face full of yellow.

“It is serious!- I can’t show up to anything looking like that-”

footsteps could be heard coming approaching the two.

“Fighting already? It hasn’t even been an hour”

Epiales said as they strided towards them, holding Caspera on their back, the Feline monster was laying their head against Epiales' back comfortably with their doll Gloria in hand..

“What’s it even about huh?”

Dream focused on Epiales

“Nothing much, just the usual.”

. Felix was about to say something but was stopped when Dream put his hands up to their mouth.

“Everyday matters!”

Dream didn't exactly want to give their brother Felix's ideas. in retaliation… after a minute passed Felix licked their palms- the skeleton shivered, afterwards sliding back- looking at his hands now making a

“eeeww.”

sound.

“That’s what you get!”

Felix blepped. Dream shook their hands, then laid them on their own pants trying to wipe off whatever the Rabbit left.

“Oh I know what you’ll be getting Felix-”

he rolled his sleeves up, the bunny quickly ran off. Epiales snorted at this. Of course Dream followed, needing to get back at that ‘friend’ of his. A distant

"You cannot silence me!"

could be heard. of course this caused Epiales to burst out laughing at the chasing and overall ridiculousness of the situation, this woke Caspera though but he quickly made sure to quiet down and assure them that everything was alright and that they'd get their sweets soon.

[ Time passed, and it seemed as if that ‘miracle’ happened as Dream described. Someone had dropped their bag of fresh goods. Being the troublemakers they were Felix and Dream quickly took that opportunity to snatch it up… thankfully without notice. As the day began to turn to night, they all returned to the orphanage, sharing their goods. Of course Mr. Neriah had to question just where the various fruits and vegetables came from.. Hearing their explanation they had gotten a slight scolding; but were forgiven slightly due to their kindness amongst the younger souls. Everyone had a nice time, eating the dinner provided and then sharing stories.. Dream’s being the most adventurous, telling of different versions of himself saving the world and sometimes even other versions of himself! Soon after Mr. Neriah ushered the children to the beds, seeing how late it was. Dream and their brother of course snuck out at the peak of midnight, but made sure to give their goodbyes to the ones who were awake still… before they fully had left Epiales left some candy underneath Caspera's pillow, the sweets that they promised to them. The brothers ventured through the silent yet dimly lit village, making it back to the farm house where they had slept before, making themselves at home... at least temporarily. ]

“Ariadne?...”

It took a moment, Dream didn’t realize his brother was talking to him… after all he always went by ‘Dream’ and the other always went by ‘Nightmare’. He brought their hand up to their face- swinging it around to get their attention

“huh- yeah what?”

Epiales hesitated, continuing with

“I’m sorry-”

with a quick response

“For what?-”

the twin spoke up- it quickly turned into a few mutters-

“I’m sorry for not believing you earlier-”

Dream turned over on the hay, putting his hand up to his non-existent ears

“hum- didn’t quite catch that Epi-”

Their brother said aloud

“hmph- keep going like that and I might have to take it back!”

Of course, they were only joking around with each other… having fun.

“Alright alright- I accept your apology.”

Dream then laid down, trying to get into a more comfy position.

“So tomorrow… what do you think about it?”

Epiales spoke up

“The festival?”

a yes was given back

“Well… we might have a nicer life with the Guardians around, they’d whip the villagers into shape- get us all places to call home!”

Dream thought about it then responded

“You really think so?...”

and their brother talked back with a

“I know so… they’re supposed to keep the things in balance, there’s a lot of us who were dealt a bad hand… they’ll make things right.”

Dream looked to the ceiling, his hands resting on his chest. He closed his sockets for a second..

“You’re right, they’ll make things right…”

As Dream talked, Epiales seemed to drift to sleep… as Dream kept looking at the ceiling, their hand then reached to it, he stared at it…

“I’ll make sure of it.”

That sentence ended off with him clenching his fist. The day of the Festival was approaching, Dream didn’t exactly want that day to arrive but his eyes began to shut on their own. The next day was soon arriving, and so was the beginning of it all.

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prettyboykatsuki · 4 months

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wyll, in my opinion, gets the standard fare treatment for characters that are unequivocally good. i.e. people think he's boring and uninteresting. standard fare might be kind actually given the level of racism and unexplained slander (which is often just more thinly veiled racism). his reputation about being boring is not helped by the very blatant neglect of his storyline post his rewrite and release. as a wyll enjoyer i am hyperaware of the sorry state of his current story in all three acts

despite all of that and the glaring flaws - i still believe that wylls storyline is worth of being engaged with and explored.

one of the reasons (not the most major one, but one) i think wyll experiences so much neglect as a companion stems from a wider idea that "goodness" is always the uncomplicated, easy choice.

it's something i see a lot. wyll is boring because of his archetype as a princely and universally righteous guy. and this is interesting, because it always seems to functions under the assumption that wylls moral character is innate. that his heroic and righteous actions are in some capacity, uncomplicated.

uniquely among the male origin companions, through the course of wylls story - there is never a point in which he is at risk of making a truly 'bad' choice. both gale and astarions story have them at risk of making choices that are ultimately bad for them and others (especially tav when each character is romanced). gales godhood and astarions ascension are their in game moral failings. they are the result of having not broke the cycle and are 'bad' choices for the individual character.

wylls main choice is however his pact and the choice to break that pact. notably - wyll is never at risk of making a bad choice, only a selfish one.

from the critique i see of wyll - it seems like this is the element of him people find most egregious. he's too smooth, not rugged enough, not gritty enough. but i don't think wyll's character needs grit, necessarily.

if you take any time to dissect wyll at all, based on dialogue and character interaction, many of his choices put himself at the forefront of sacrifice. the game strips wyll of a lot of agency, but wyll also always abides by and sticks to his core belief. so often towards his own detriment.

not only does wyll bear the consequence of being turned into a devil (stripping him of the last remaining shred of identity he's ever had and one of the most important things in his life), he bore the burden of being banished when he made his pact, and was willing to do the same for the sake of his father when he is taken to moonrise.

and unlike gale (who i adore, to be clear) who's concept of self-sacrifice stems mostly from a low self-worth - the belief that dying is the best he can do - wyll truly views that it's better him than them.

wyll does not think twice about allowing himself to be the one to take the fall. he can play any part, take any role, even when these choices haunt him so obviously. wyll claims that he forgives his father, but opens up to you about fearing his feelings of missing him are one-sided. he believes that making his pact was the right choice, the one he would make again - but doesn't deny the obvious pain and solace that came along with being a wandering traveler and banished son.

wylls goodness is so deliberate. he is so staunch in upholding and acting on his beliefs that it is always narrative to his own detriment. when you view wyll like this , and view his choices with regards this character attribute, it is imo very hard to hate him.

wyll's goodness is his double edged sword. it makes him heroic, brave, fearless. and it makes him scared, uncertain and lonely. again, the story itself is bare bones and i understand that - but it is so very beautiful to me thinking of him and tav or just his general romance.

as wylls romance partner, encouraging wyll to break his pact is as tragic as it very beautiful. tav is wylls one selfish thing. one of the only reasons that would move him to not give himself up. one of the only reasons he is okay with forgoing his beliefs. he loves tav enough to break his own oaths, and make choices for himself and no one else. not as the blade, or as a ravengard - but just as wyll.

and that aspect of him is in my opinion, enforced, by the mindflayer tav ending. in which wylls monster-hunting and morals are made exceptions with / for tav. my enjoyment of hero corruption might be speaking for me, but i digress.

in every way though - i truly love wyll as a character. and while im well aware of the critical flaws in his in game story state, i think it's both unfortunate and unfair that people call him boring. to me he is anything but

#aristotle.txt #wyll ravengard #bg3 #wyll meta #bg3 wyll #wyll x tav #he is so love of my life coded #this is my experience as a deku defending and lover speaking for me i fear

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accio-victuuri · 3 months

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xiao zhan - GQ February issue cover story Q&A 📝

They have experienced real things. There is no camera facing you. Without lights, you are living your own real life.

GQ: When did it become clear that you wanted to be an actor?

Xiao Zhan: When the public paid more and more attention to me, I want to say, why can’t I do it? I think I can. Sometimes I get shaken and think it’s so difficult. Why can’t I do it? For example, when it comes to lines, why are my lines just not good? Why can’t I speak well with others? Is it because I'm from the South? I don't think so, and then I think, how can I say it well? I can do it, let's give it a try.

GQ: In your opinion, what are the professional standards for actors?

Xiao Zhan: First of all, being professional is an unavoidable topic. You can have a non-major background, but you must have excellent professional skills. This is what I want to do, this is who I am. I feel that I am not enough, and i’m too far behind.

After becoming professional, attitude is very important and whether you love it is also very important. Do you just treat it as a job, or do you really like it? These are two concepts. When you see it as a job, you may not be able to go very far. But if you really like it, you will cry for it and laugh for it, which may be the motivation for you to stick to it.

I also have a strong body (laughs). I used to not feel tired when I was in my twenties, but now I feel very tired after staying up late. It's a terrible thing to be. A strong body is important, it is your foundation.

GQ: When you acted in which role or drama, did you feel recognized?

Xiao Zhan: When I was working on "The Wolf" at the beginning, I was under a lot of pressure. My acting teacher would give me a lot of advice and guidance, and I would constantly overturn my own performance every day. t was a period of confusion. After you get over it, you will find that you have grown. When you start acting later, you will gradually find a little bit of feeling, and then step by step — this is a cumulative process.

I feel that I have acted too little. Compared with some of my predecessors, who have acted in many works in their thirties, my current works are still too few and I have not accumulated enough.

GQ: Are you anxious?

Xiao Zhan: Yes, because I think (improving acting skills) is a cumulative process. You can’t make a big step forward with just one movie. This is difficult for me to happen. So you have to keep filming, but you have to keep filming good films and don't consume yourself.

GQ: What are the considerations behind the expansion of the three film and television dramas to be broadcast in 2023 from costume dramas to period dramas and urban dramas?

Xiao Zhan: Actually, I didn’t think anything about it. It just happened naturally. I didn’t deliberately change the themes that I had acted in before. I just read the script and the script was handed to me at the time. I felt attracted to a certain script at the moment, so I chose it. It just happened to be a subject that I had never acted in before.

GQ: Do you feel tired after always acting in costume dramas?

Xiao Zhan: There are many types of costumes. Don’t divide them into costume dramas and modern dramas. It’s nothing more than putting on a hood and changing clothes. In fact, the core is the same, but also just completely different.

GQ: Once your drama is aired, will you follow it?

Xiao Zhan: I won’t follow it, but I will watch it, and I will choose the scenes that I care about to focus on, so I can find problems for myself.

GQ: Will you be able to watch the barrage?

Xiao Zhan: I used to really know how to do it. I felt very happy and laughed with everyone, but now I can’t do it.

GQ: What kind of role do you want to play now?

Xiao Zhan: If I could choose, of course it would be the best one I haven’t tried yet. I need freshness. If I ask you to do the same thing every day, you will be bored.

GQ: What kind of actor do you want to be?

Xiao Zhan: I want to be an actor that the audience can like.

GQ: Have you already done this to make people like you?

Xiao Zhan: No, no, I think it’s far from enough. I once thought about whether to be an actor with a personal style or to be an actor that the audience likes just by looking at you. At present, I want to be an actor who makes the audience like you. Maybe everyone is not your fan, or even not particularly interested in you, but you know that he has a drama, Do you want to watch it? His dramas are all good. I want to do this. This is my current goal. Is it possible to become the actor I like? This is a rule.

It’s a long road, take your time.

GQ: Who are your favorite actors?

Xiao Zhan: There are many. For example, Zhou Xun has always been my favorite actor. I recently watched her play ("Waving in the Poison of Anger"), and it was really great.

GQ: What are your career plans in 2024?

Xiao Zhan: Make more movies and work with more good teams. This is the only goal at the moment, and I won’t consider other things for the time being.

GQ: Do voices on social media bother you?

Xiao Zhan: It doesn’t bother me. It’s been so many years and I’m still worried. I’m still alive. (English) It’s really okay. Just like I know exactly what I'm doing, every time. To make a choice, you have to clearly know what you are doing, what you want to give up, and what you want to make. So, fortunately, the team may have more troubles.

GQ: Your personal life has not been affected?

Xiao Zhan: Very normal! I can go out for a ride or a walk. When you walk on the street, no one really cares about you. It's really not what everyone thinks. Like this, then I can walk around freely,

GQ: Is this an escape moment for you?

Xiao Zhan: It’s time to relax. Why do you want to escape? I am also in the third dimension. Where do I want to escape? This is my life. I am the same as everyone.

There are many things I particularly want to do, such as taking the subway and shopping in shopping malls, which are very similar to when I was in school, and maybe I will do them in the future.

GQ: Do you miss the ordinary life very much?

Xiao Zhan: It’s not that I miss it, it’s that I think I should do it. It’s because of my popularity. I will really take the subway, maybe tomorrow. It’s so normal. I used to take the subway every day. for me there’s nothing I can't do. What do you think I can do? Say hello and leave. It’s just that I don’t want to cause confusion and trouble for everyone or cause a bad reaction.

GQ: You have not appeared on variety shows in recent years. Is this a conscious choice?

Xiao Zhan: Because it’s not suitable. With my personality, people get tired in variety shows. I want to take care of everyone’s feelings, which makes me very tired. Now that I know this is the case, If there is a result, then just don’t do it.

GQ: What was your original intention in entering the entertainment industry?

Xiao Zhan: I really came in inexplicably and ignorantly. I used to watch talent shows and interview the top contestants. How did i get to this point? I accompanied my friend to participate in the selection, but my friend failed and I was selected. When I was a child, I thought these things were far away from me, but when it comes to myself, it is really like this. I think it's amazing. I participated in the draft and got to where I am now. It's amazing. Life is really interesting.

GQ: What things have you not thought of before after entering the industry?

Xiao Zhan: It is a very cruel thing not to eat wantonly. When I see my former high school classmates who have children and gained weight, I will sigh, I want this too— eating recklessly, their living conditions make me feel that if I had not chosen this path at that time, maybe we are all the same, having to socialize and endure hardships — rushing to design at night, you don't know how tiring it is to do design, but life is like this, there is no way.

GQ: How did choosing this piece change you?

Xiao Zhan: Maybe I lack a lot of life experience. In this regard, my classmates and friends are far better than me. They have experienced real things. There is no camera facing you. Without lights, you are living your own real life.

GQ: Are you an emotionally stable person?

Xiao Zhan: It's relatively stable, but once I touch some points, I will become very unstable.

GQ: For example?

Xiao Zhan: It’s just... some things that cannot be said. Haha, maybe when something incredible happens, you will think, what are you doing? I will be very angry when something happens. Maybe it's some privacy issue. If this point is exceeded, I will "run away".

Everyone has their own boundaries, and some people have no sense of propriety. I stay away from such people, but when the boundaries are broken again and again and the bottom line is touched, I will get very angry.

GQ: You once said that you have a particularly strong side in your personality. What do you mean specifically?

Xiao Zhan: In principle, I am a very rigid person. If I insist on something and I think it is right, it will be difficult to be convinced. For example, if I want to be an actor, I don’t want to do anything other than being an actor. If you come to Siam, let’s debate. No one is right or wrong, the team is also for your own good, Isn't it a good thing to have a lot of work? But for me, I have to subtract because some things are really not what I want.

GQ: Do you have a perfectionist side?

Xiao Zhan: I just want to do it well, just try my best right now. Maybe the result is not good, but what should I do? This is all I can do.

GQ: Can you accept failure?

Xiao Zhan: I can accept it. I might not have been able to accept it a few years ago, but 30-year-old Xiao Zhan has learned to accept it (laughs).

-END.

#xiao zhan #accio victuuri translation #THE FONT IS SO SMALL I DIED LOL #MY POOR EYES #DO NOT TAKE OUTSIDE OF TUMBLR WITHOUT CREDIT #this is a good candid interview the manages to discuss serious topics!#my heart broke with that answer he gave so i used it as a main quote for this post

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stadiumbleachers · 1 year

Text

Attitude Adjustment

Izogie x black!fem!reader x Shuri

Summary: while training as an Agojie, you have trouble grasping the concept of obedience, Shuri and Izogie help you adjust your attitude

Content Warnings: mean!Shuri, nice!Izogie, degredation, spanking, fingering, strapslinger!shuri, strapslinger!izogie

Word Count: 2.7k

“Use your core! Your movements are too flimsy!” Izogie’s voice bellowed across the training ground, her annoyance clear as day. She was getting under your skin and you were certainly getting under hers.

You stepped back from the mannequin and repeated the steps.

Lunge

Duck

Kick

Strike

The straw filled head of the mannequin cut clean off and landed on the dirt then rolled over to her feet

“Better…” Izogie looked you up and down, pinning you to your spot with her gaze,”But not good enough”

You sucked your teeth and grumbled, “Nothing is good enough for you”, but she was unphased by your defiance. She crossed her arms over the chest, biceps bulging under her glowing brown skin.

“You’re very mouthy for someone who has a lot to learn”

“Are you gonna teach me or keep talking?” you snapped at her. She clenched her jaw but her expression remained neutral.

“Drop your weapon and come over here”

The sword landed with a dull thud but you stayed put

“Come.Here.” she repeated, her voice dangerously low

The corner of your mouth twitched, itching to say something smart, but your feet moved on their own. It was as if your body wanted to obey her - needed it. But you were too stubborn for your own good.

Standing before her, you mirrored her stance with your hands on your hips

“We’ll practice some hand to hand. Keep your feet light and ready to move but keep your strikes strong”

Izogie bent her knees and you circled each other. She threw the first hit, a fist swiping quickly to your right shoulder which you dodge smoothly. You threw a kick of your own, your foot colliding with her toned thigh, barely budging her. She grabbed your foot before you could pull it back and pulled, throwing off your balance. You landed on your back, red dirt kicking up on the impact.

“Your strike is strong but it needs to be faster” she held out a hand to help you up and you took it. You sprung to your feet and dusted yourself off

“I’m tired, I need a break”

“It’s barely been an hour. Do you think the mighty Agojie stop fighting simply because they are tired? Do they endanger the kingdom of Dahomey for a few minutes' rest?”

“No, they don’t” you mumbled

“And what’s the most important rule?” she asked you

“Always listen to Izogie”

“That’s right, and you will listen to me”

The words jumped out of you before you could stop them,“Make me”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” a voice asked behind you and you whipped your head around to discover Princess Shuri of Wakanda in your presence. You bowed in greeting, the scowl quickly wiped from your face

“Princess Shuri, I-I’m sorry you had to hear that , I swear I was-” Shuri held up a hand to silence you and your promptly shut your mouth

The princess ignored you and walked right past you to greet Izogie. White hot embarrassment ran up your back but you kept your eyes glued to your feet and your hands tightly clasped behind your back

“Zo, my friend, it’s been too long” you heard her say

“Far too long, I hear stories of your engineering genius more than I hear from you” Izogie laughed, and you didn’t need to see her to know her brilliant white teeth were on display

“We’ll have to make more time to visit, won’t we, great warrior” Shuri teased her, then cleared her throat. Your skin pricked as you felt two sets of eyes staring at your back

“So, this is the one you told me about” the dirt shifted under her steps as she made her way over to where you were standing, “She seems to still be keeping you on your toes”

“Unfortunately yes, I’m one smart word away from throwing her out into the streets” Izogie joined Shuri in appraising you up close, like predators inspecting their prey.

You felt hot all over, petrified at how turned on you were at being spoken about like you weren’t even there

Shuri stepped in front of you, her hand grazing the hem of your training gear, and you chanced a look into her eyes but quickly averted them when you saw the fire that burned inside them

“Keep your eyes on the ground”

You felt Izogie press her hand into your back from where she stood behind you, to test your balance, but you tensed your abs and stood firm against the warm pressure of her hand

“Hmmm” Shuri hummed,”Maybe she needs some reinforcement”

“What did you have in mind?”

.......... ..........

The inside of the talon fighter was beautifully decked out with the latest wakadan technology, but you could hardly enjoy your surroundings with the sight before you. The warrior and the princess sat in respective chairs, wearing identical stern expressions. Your eyes flicked back and forth between the two, your mind overwhelmed by their beautiful faces. Izogie’s voice interrupted your blatant ogling and brought you down to earth.

“Do you understand what we ask of you?”

You nodded

“Ah ah, use your words” Shuri instructed you

“Yes, I do” you answered immediately

“So”Izogie continued, shifting in her seat to spread her powerful legs, “what do you say?”

“I want it” you said, your voice just above a whisper

“Good”, they said it at the same time and somehow that one word made you weak in the knees as your stood before them awaiting instructions

“I think you owe Izogie an apology, why don’t you get on your knees and show her just how sorry you are” Shuri gestured to the floor and you slowly went down. The carpet of the talon fighter cushioning you as you crawled over to where Izogie sat, looking quite bored.

You leaned in and pecked the inside of one knee, then the other. Gently, you kissed and licked the soft skin of her inner thighs, alternating between them. You paused with your face before her clothed core, and looked up at her as if to ask permission.

“Go on, we don’t have all day” Izogie regarded you with one thick brow raised

You reached a shaky hand forward and pushed her undergarment to the side. To your absolute delight, you saw her inner labia peeking out and glistening wet. Your mouth watered, desperate for a taste, desperate to prove you were worthy of such an honor.

You closed your eyes and placed a chaste kiss on each lip, as if you weren’t burning with the desire to consume the most intimate parts of the warrior. You nippled at the sensitive skin and her legs quivered on either side of your head.

Above you, Shuri and Izogie started talking about trade agreements and war strategies, your presence reduced to a mere object for their pleasure. This only spurred you on and you dove in, lapping at her like you were starving. Your tongue worked into her, gathering up the sweet slick of her arousal which you swallowed down greedily. Using your nose to stimulate her sensitive bundle of nerves, you moved your head side to side, your tongue rigid inside her smooth walls.

You could tell she was close from the way she clenched and relaxed in rhythm around your tongue. The heady taste of her left you brainless, fueled only by the desire to please, and they both knew it.

“Look at you, so desperate to please, this is who you really are, huh?” Izogie’s voice was raspy as she finally addressed you

You moaned into her dripping sex and latched your lips around her clit, sucking on it with reckless abandon. Two of your nimble fingers pushed easily into her, and you curled them, twisting this way and that.

Her abs tensed, her thighs shook and her hips rolled faster, chasing the climax you were determined to give her

“Bring her over the edge, show her what a good little slut you are, yeah?” Shuri instructed you from her seat beside Izogie

The words shot right through you and you felt your own arousal running down your thigh, your hole clenched pathetically around nothing. The pads of your fingers brushed up against the bumpy spot inside her and you pounded them into her, and hit it with every thrust. Your arm ached and your jaw burned, but you couldn’t stop, not when she was so close.

You bit down gently on her clit then pulled back to blow cold breath onto the abused little bud

“Oh yesss, you dirty fucking whore” Izogie’s voice sounded foreign as she tipped over the edge, climax forcing her body forward. The trimmed curls of her sex tickled your nose and her thighs clamped down on your head, keeping you in place. You hung your tongue out of your mouth and panted, allowing her to use you as she rocked her hips steadily and came down from her high.

When she was sufficiently recovered, she grabbed your hair in one hand and pulled you away from her. You took your first breaths of air that weren’t overpowered with Izogie’s arousal. You sucked off the remainder of her slick from your fingers, moaning around them while you licked them clean.

You barely had time to catch your breath before Shuri was summoning you, with the crook of a slim finger. You crawled over to her and sat on your feet, waiting for her instructions

“What do you think Izogie, is she really sorry?”

Izogie put her hand to her chin and pretended to consider it,”Hmmm, not quite but she’s getting there. How about you put her across your lap? Maybe then she’ll be sorry”

The two women laughed together, mocking you. You throbbed between your legs, and a bead of sweat ran down your back, though the room was chilly from the A/C.

“Strip. Then come lay across my lap”

You quickly disrobed then clumsily climbed across the princess’ lap. Your round ass was turned up to her and your breasts were pressed uncomfortably into the armrest

“How many spanks for this greedy little thing?” Shuri kneaded her hands into your ass, pulling them apart to expose your wet, pulsating cunt.

“Ten will suffice” Izogie’s voice floated to your ears, but you were already high off the thought of what Shuri was going to do to you

“You must count each one and then thank me for teaching you to be a good girl. Understood?”

Your mind scrambled for the word you were trying to say, “Ungh..Yes”

As soon as the words left your mouth, her hand came down on one cheek. The sting was gone as quickly as it came and garbled out, “One. Thank you”

The next slap was harder, your ass bounced from the impact. “Two, thank you” She continued to rain down her abuse on your ass, until tears ran down your brown cheeks and dripped onto the once immaculately clean carpet. The tenth slap she spread your cheeks with one hand and brought down the other with punishing strength on your pussy.

The skin reddened and tingled with the current of a thousand nerve endings set on fire. You wailed loudly, thrashing around on her lap until she grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled. You stilled in her lap, gasping quietly as the tears continued to fall

“What do you say, slut?” Izogie asked you on Shuri’s behalf

“T-ten, thank you princess”

“Good girl. Now lie on your back on the floor”

You stood on shaky legs and lowered yourself to the floor once more, gritting your teeth at the sensation of your sore ass rubbing on the carpet. You watched as Shuri stood up and got something from a drawer. It was a dildo, black with glowing blue throughout. Shuri took out a harness and secured it on herself, then handed an identical strap-on to Izogie who did the same.

“Why is it glowing?” you asked them

“It’s made from vibranium, which means it feeds the sensation of inside you to us, so we can feel it” Shuri explained easily, as if it wasn’t a feat of engineering genius

She knelt before you and Izogie did the same, both sets of eyes assessing you from head to toe. Izogie licked her lips, her eyes trained on your breasts where your nipple were hard from being stimulated on the arm chair

“You’re so beautiful,” she told you reverently, “but so very bad”

Shuri took hold of your knees and spread them, the chilly air doing nothing to cool the heat from your wet cunt, “Now that she's apologized so well, do you think we should show her what good girls get?” she was talking to Izogie but her eyes were piercing into yours

Izogie grinned “You fill her mouth so she’s nice and quiet and I’ll fill her right here” she trailed a digit from your knee to your pussy and ran it up and down your slit. You hissed, already worked up.

Shuri moved to kneel behind your head and tapped the strap lightly on your cheeks, rubbing it onto your plump lips. You took it in and sucked sloppily at the head, saliva running from the side of your mouth. Shuri groaned as your warm tongue work languidly to please her

Izogie worked one digit into you, then quickly added another, then another. Your pussy ached delightfully as she stretched you to take her.

Suddenly Shuri pulled out of your mouth and held your jaw in her skillful hand. Your forced yourself to focus on her words, even though you were being pumped full of fingers

“Repeat after me. I will listen to Izogie” she told you

You could hardly get the words out

“I will listen to Izogie” tears pricked at your eyes as you were overwhelmed by the attention of both women

Izogie leaned down to your ear and whispered “You will be a good little slut for me, won’t you?”

“I’ll be a good little slut for-”

You barely finished the sentence and Izogie stuffed your pussy full of her cock, drawing out mewls from your mouth, but the sounds were quickly silenced by Shuri.

Your head bobbed up and down in time with each expert stroke of Izogie’s hips. The louder your garbled moans, the harder Izogie fucked into you. You screwed your eyes shut as Shuri forced the strap deeper into your throat. You relaxed it and allowed her to fuck your face.

Both women’s strokes became faster, more sporadic and you could tell they were close. You clenched you walls around Izogie and reached a hand up to rub at Shuri’s clit below the strap

“Oh fuck yes, gag on it, whore” Shuri’s hips stuttered and your mouth filled with the slick of her climax that being fed into your mouth from the vibranium strap. It choked you.

She pulled out and allowed you to catch your breath but it was quickly knocked back out of you when Izogie built up a punishing pace. Both of her hands grabbed hold of your breasts, slapping them and pinching and rolling your nipples until you writhed beneath her. With one last tug on your clit and her hip angled up to hit your g-spot, you toppled over the edge.

White light burst behind your still closed eyelids and you screamed, squirming desperately while Izogie reached her own high. You felt her hips stutter and you grabbed handfuls of her ass and pulled her deeper into you

“Come inside me, please” you begged her

She obliged, your cunt leaking with the combination of both of your juices.

Eventually, she pulled out and lay on her back alongside Shuri, showing you for the first time that she was pleased with you. Your heart swelled with pride.

The room was silent, except for the quiet gasps of all three of you catching your breath

Shuri spoke up from where she lay on the floor, “Just to review, who’s a good girl?”

Your voice sounded positively destroyed as you answered, “Me”

“That’s fucking right” they said it at the same time, and somehow your fucked out hole still quivered miserably.

“Now let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

You could only nod and allow yourself to be lifted off the ground by the two women who had just wrecked you and fucked out every fibre of defiance from your body

…

#shuri x reader #izogie x reader #reader is a brat

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project-sekai-facts · 7 months

Text

Hatsune Miku broke space-time and here's how

a somewhat off-the-wall theory by tumblr user project-sekai-facts

SEKAI are... mysterious, to say the least. They're worlds made out of the emotions of teenagers, only accessible through a song on a phone that cannot disappear, and most importantly, inhabited by the main 6 Crypton VOCALOID characters.

So, what exactly is a SEKAI? For one, they're not magical or supernatural, as confirmed in Len's Street SEKAI 2*. According to Len, SEKAI are just mysterious, as previously mentioned. He also mentions in that card story that the Virtual Singers that inhabit SEKAI are not that much unlike humans, although they have the innate ability to help people discover their true feelings, and nurturing those feelings is at their core.

That's the thing, how are they able to maintain a humanoid form if they're not magical or supernatural, and not holograms either? Well, with magical worlds and the concept of people teleporting inside of their phone ruled out due to the phones going with them, the only option I can think of would be an alternate dimension. A parallel universe, if you will.

An alternate, parallel universe actually makes a lot of sense. Because there's still the big question of how a selection of characters came to be physical, sentient beings. It's made perfectly clear that in the world the main human characters live in, the Virtual Singers are simply Virtual Singers. They're just characters designed for vocal synth software, exactly as they are in the real world. So to me, the most likely explanation is that the SEKAI exist in an alternate universe where the Crypton VOCALOID characters exist as real "people".

It's not a perfect explanation, and doesn't really account for the fact there are several SEKAI, and several incarnations of the VOCALOID characters across those. While the SEKAI are presented as planet-like objects in a void (the "Between SEKAI"), as the game calls it, there's also the fact that SEKAI continuously grow, in a similar style to a universe. To be honest, I don't think the writers care that much about the physics behind SEKAI and the contradictions present.

They actually play with a bit of a "god" dynamic with the Virtual Singers. They aren't tied to a specific SEKAI, instead residing in the void between SEKAI and watching over "themselves" and the humans who inhabit the SEKAI.

All of that aside, how did the SEKAI come to be, and what's so special about the Virtual Singers? Why are they playing god in this alternate dimension?

Well, it's well-established that SEKAI are created from feelings. Specifically strong and unwavering ones, that have to maintain their strength in order to become a full fledged SEKAI, and not just a small fragment of what could be. But, where do the Virtual Singers come into this?

Well, it's hard to say. Considering how closely tied the Virtual Singers are to the SEKAI, I'd say it's pretty safe to say that they have an impact in the creation of them. Which places 2006 as the earliest a SEKAI could form, the year MEIKO was released. Although, considering how Miku is put at the forefront of it all, 2007 might be more likely. Perhaps the SEKAI were created by staff at Crypton, who were happy with Miku's outcome, and that's why she's at the forefront? It's plausible, though I think there's a more likely theory.

The game places a heavy emphasis on what VOCALOID means to people, the way a community has formed around it, and creators will put their feelings into music that can then be enjoyed by people worldwide. From an out-of-universe perspective, I think this provided the inspiration for the idea of SEKAI, though I think it works from an in-universe perspective too. By some reality-shattering phenomenon, when VOCALOID (particularly Miku) started to really explode in the late 2000s, the feelings that people entrusted to these Virtual Singer characters managed to create entire worlds based on their feelings. Obviously Miku being the most popular and well-know VOCALOID character ended up being at the center of it. Thousands of people conveyed their true feelings through her, and probably hundreds of those people felt strongly enough for SEKAI to be born from their feelings.

And that's all it is really. SEKAI are just a metaphor for the worlds that Vocaloid producers create with their songs, and the feelings they put into those songs, the feelings they entrust to the VOCALOIDs. It's a very literal representation of it.

#i didn't know what to post for today and then i was just like. yeah that'll work. post the header.#project sekai #theory #i know kaito and meiko aren't part of the character vocal series but saying they're vocaloid characters would still be correct right?#happy 3rd anniversary ig

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cuubism · 1 year

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A little headcannon that has been stewing in my head for a while and has absolutely no proof from the cannon

Death has wings right? What if Dream used to have wings too but when his kingdom got invaded for the first time(that story he tells in the Overture) the invaders cut his wings off. That's the part of the reason why he crafted his helm and why's he so dependent on it. They took his wings so he took their skull and a spine, an eye for an eye kind of situation. Also, that's when Dream first started employing a raven. He still has scars on his shoulder blades that follow him to any form he takes. He's ashamed of them, sees them as a sign of weakness, a reminder of his failure and his flaws and goes to great lengths to cover them up. That's about it, but I'd love to hear what you think of it^-^

(Plus: Hob gently running his hands over the scars, showing Dream his own ones and reassuring him that there's nothing broken, or wrong with him)

NO BUT THIS IS SO ANGSTY I LOVE IT. i love suffering

i feel like a permanent injury like that would have to be done to dream's core essence, such as it is, rather than his 'physical form' - i don't know if dream's physical form in the waking world or other realms can even be hurt like that. it would have to be like, something that deeply wounds the dreaming, or the concept of dreaming, or just like the deepest core of dream as an 'entity' rather than it being a physical wound. (this is leading me on a mental tangent about injuries to large groups of dreamers also injuring dream, like, extinction events and such, but that's for another time).

you managed to rope me into it, congrats XD

content warning for blood, gore, violence, Things Done That Can't Be Undone, etc.

There is not much, in his long life and memory, that Dream is able to forget. Thoughts do not drift into irrelevancy, into the past, the way they do for humans. He is able to hold much, all at once, in the cavern of his mind, eons of all that has happened hovering close enough to touch. It is a heavy weight more often than it is an aid.

But he forgets, sometimes, with Hob.

With Hob, the rare points of their contact stand out as singularly bright stars in the nebula of Dream's existence. All else within him fades. When Hob takes his hand Dream feels clear as a desert sky, when Hob kisses him for the first time, Dream is floating free in a great salt lake, hanging weightless.

He forgets.

It's only after, bodies pressed together with pleasing heat and sweat-tackiness, Hob tracing patterns over his back, that Dream begins to remember again.

"Dream..." Hob's fingers stutter over his shoulder blades. His voice catches with the hesitance he has often displayed with Dream since their reunion. I think you're here for friendship. Dream feels the echoes.

He kisses Hob's throat, tastes the salt tang of his skin, hides his face away there. The weight of embodiment returning. "Ask your question," he says. "I swear not to part from you now."

"Is this from...?" Hob's fingertips dance up the raised arcs of scar tissue over his back. Pain sparkles in the wake of his touch like the sharpness of a hand-drawn tattoo in the permanence of its inking. As humans imagine it. Dream is not truly physical and could not bear such a mark. Except for this.

"No," he tells Hob. Blame for many of Dream's recent ordeals can be laid at Roderick Burgess's feet, but not this one. "Much older than that."

"Oh." Hob keeps tracing the scar over Dream's right shoulder blade. The touch aches deep in Dream's being where those wounds originate, but he does not tell Hob to stop. Even like this, Hob's hands bring him back, and back, and keep him here.

Hob is waiting, leaving an opening for him to elaborate. Dream is not yet sure whether he wishes to.

"It is not a pretty story," he says.

Hob strokes through his hair. Dream keeps his head tucked under his chin and so feels each word as it's spoken. "Neither of us is a pretty story, darling. Tell it if you want to."

Dream has not spoken of this in many years. There are those in the Dreaming who have served him for millennia whom he has not told. He has taken lovers, had them see the scars during their lovemaking, and still not relayed the story.

"When I was young," he begins, "and still coming into my power, the Dreaming was invaded. My borders were not as strong, then. My realm, less populated. Ancient beings, older than I was at the time, hungered for my realm. Sought its power for their own."

"Older than dreams?" Hob asks.

"In their universe, there were no dreams," Dream tells him. "Perhaps it is what drew them to me."

"Alright. Wow." Hob sounds thoughtful. He rubs Dream's back, between his shoulder blades where it doesn't hurt. "Go on, love."

"I fought them. But the collective unconscious of this universe was young and undeveloped, as was I; I had not mastered all elements of my domain. I fought, but inelegantly, and struggled to counter dreamless beings when all my power was in the unconscious. They were wholly anchored in the present; I, in the space between seconds; we were poorly suited as combatants."

"What did you do?" Hob asks, quiet. He can sense, Dream thinks, the direction this is going, that Dream would not be so hesitant to tell the story of scars born of victory.

"I did not know," Dream admits, equally quiet, still shamed by it, his own failure, and its branching repercussions, "what to do. And the Eldest God, he who had first rent open the walls of my realm, pounced on my uncertainty, captured me, held me--"

The memory, never forgotten, always just within reach should he turn towards it, rises again -- the silk-smooth black sand on the shores of the Dreaming, crushed into his cheek; the warm waters lapping at his mouth, nose, eyes, drowning him; the impossible weight on his spine of the impossible dreamless creature holding him down, arms wrenched behind his back, the feral animal growl that had escaped him, the equally animal panic beating under his ribcage, the fragile spun dreamstuff of him held in the sharptoothed maw of cold reality, his wings--

"Dream?"

Dream comes back to himself. Comes back to Hob. The overwarm flannel sheets. The soft press of Hob's body. He's tapping something on Hob's arm, and hadn't realized he was doing it. It's the rhythm of an old song from before the time of men, the electrical beats passed along root chains from tree to tree to tree, all the way across the great forests that now exist only in scarce patches on the earth.

Dream shifts ever closer to Hob's body, slips a knee between Hob's thighs to tangle them, bare skin to bare skin, limb to limb, root to root.

"I had wings, then," he says.

--his wings, flapping frantically in the face of the thing that pinned him, feathers catching and tearing on jagged armor, held to the ground the way a creature of flight was never meant to be--

"Oh," breathes Hob. He touches the long scar over Dream's shoulder blade again and pauses there. The pain catches the story to Dream again like a hook and holds it there as he continues bleeding it dry.

"The Eldest God dug his claws into me and tore the wings from my body." Dream's voice doesn't shake but he does not manage more than a whisper. "I am not a physical creature, Hob, understand this, I cannot be so easily harmed, it was not a physical form that was damaged, rather, the Old Gods came from stone and earth and it was stone they harnessed as their claws, ancient stone to carve into my being and tear out my wings from the essence of me, root and stem, flesh and bone, air and feather and starlight."

All of this comes out in a continuous rush, and Hob kisses the side of his head, says, "Breathe."

He can still feel, if he but thinks back, the tearing of the claws. A cold so bright it felt like burning. His face ground into the sand to muffle his scream, the howling whiteout of pain overtaking all other noise, the crack of his shoulder joint as it was broken. Star stuff spilling out over the sand - Dream hadn't even known he could bleed until then. Hands that should never have touched in the first place releasing him. Collapsing, disarmed, to the ground. Every limb on fire, the ones that were left.

"Dream."

He lost himself, and found himself again some time later curled in the shallows of the Dreaming sea, seeking shelter from the cold in the warm waters. Face half submerged, breathing as much salt water as air. Blood still spooling around him like leftover paint whirling in a water glass.

"Dream."

Even in those warm waters, he was shivering. Dream doesn't think he's ever been quite warm since; that cold latched itself in him somewhere and never left.

Hob's voice, now, against his ear. He's curled himself around Dream while Dream wasn't paying attention, Dream's back to the warm protection of Hob's chest. "You don't have to finish if you don't want to."

Dream will not leave a story unfinished, not even one such as this. "When I had regained my strength enough to fight back," he continues, "I was... not in control. I knew only survival. If the Old Gods had wished me to understand their world, they succeeded. I abandoned my powers and fought with my hands and my claws and my teeth, and I tore the Eldest God's skull and spine from his body. Both of us would be maimed, I thought; if he would have my dreams then I would have for my own the backbone upon which he held his earth. I listened to him scream. I watched each rib pry up from his chest and snap, my hands slick with his blood, his with mine, and felt nothing but the raw satiation of a wolf setting upon meat. I have told you, Hob." He takes his first breath in a while and feels it rattle, hollow, around his ribcage. "It is not a pretty story."

"No." Hob's hand finds Dream's against his middle, tangles their fingers, holds him. His breath is shaky in Dream's hair, words more so. "No, darling, it's not. I'm sorry."

They rewrote the story of the Dreaming, Dream recalls saying to Destiny, after. Before he had come to know, truly, what Destiny was. Kneeling in his garden, blood still draping his raw back like a shroud, Dream had sought meaning, answers, reason. Foolish, in retrospect, to even consider asking for succor.

Destiny had said that the Dreaming had seeped too far into the Waking world. That what had happened was a necessary rebalancing.

Had Dream not been forbidden from physical violence against his siblings, he would have bitten off one of Destiny's hands with his own sharp teeth and asked if he felt more balanced then.

"Now you know what vicious creature you lie with, Hob Gadling," Dream says. The words are heavy in his throat, but he can't find it in himself to slip from Hob's hold. Now you know the jagged turn at the beginning of my story.

He wonders, sometimes, what the Dreaming might have been like had it continued on the other branch of Destiny's forking path. What he might have been like. There is so much space between a winged creature and a once-winged creature. The entire sky.

"I know." Hob bites at the back of Dream's neck, light but sharp, then kisses that same spot. The nip of pain is unexpectedly soothing. Hob too knows what it is to bite and claw and writhe and maul. “I know. I’ve known your darkness, honey. Don’t you worry.”

“They fled me,” Dream tells him. “The Old Gods. After. I did not understand why at the time.” He had stood, bloodied, shaking, over their Eldest one, bones grasped in his hands, and watched them disappear. These beings that could still have shredded the Dreaming and swallowed it, but chose to run. “Now, I imagine it is like the way men will flee from an animal that is so much smaller than them but has gone rabid. The wrongness. The danger of irreparable madness. They saw me ruined and wished not to catch it, saw the Dreaming—”

This wound has dulled over time and become but a throbbing ache at the base of his skull, a reminder of something missing. But it never disappears.

“The Dreaming, changed, from what they had wanted.”

Dream’s back has never been quite right, since. His anatomy is meant for two sets of joints, not one. But it is only a fitting marker of the permanent damage done that day.

“Changed?” says Hob, so gentle now, lips brushing his skin.

“There was once more,” Dream says. “The collective unconscious was once more… collective.”

“Wait. D’you mean…?”

“Yes. There was more interconnection between minds when I was young. There were not human minds in the sense that you would know them, not yet. But there was communication, and knowing, back then.”

Vestiges of it still linger. In the vast underground networks of the trees, the paired spins of distant atoms. The matched steps of lovers finding perfect synchronicity in a dance. But—

“That was sundered with my wings.”

The cold that had washed over Dream when that realization hit had been worse than the pain of losing the wings in the first place. How he had failed the dreamers under his care. Let things fracture and tear and separate when they were meant to be together.

Hob sighs against the back of his neck. “I’m so sorry, Dream.”

“I am sorry,” Dream says. “It should never have happened.”

“No, it shouldn’t,” Hob agrees, and it’s sweet pain sliding between Dream’s ribs, for Hob to press his fingertips to the rawness of him and say, yes, failure, failure, I see it now.

But Hob kisses the point of his shoulder, the ever-tense muscles of his upper back, the hard curve of his scapula and the calcified line of another almost-joint, lost to time. His lips find the uneven scar tissue and press there, which is its own sweet pain, but sliding towards sweet, a sharp bite to kissed lips.

“It shouldn’t,” Hob whispers, and the words vibrate to the core of him. Hob does not see his failure, will not; Dream had forgotten Hob’s charity towards him, how he will see the blood on Dream’s hands and wipe it away instead of asking how it got there. Dream’s failures have stolen something from him he does not even know to miss, and still.

Now Dream does wish for Hob’s hands slipping under his ribs. Hob would find the aching wretched thing within him that had been loosed that day and hold it in his palms, wash the blood from it with careful strokes. Would that Hob could have held him then, submerged him deep in the waters of the Dreaming sea until the dark and the warmth and the strong hold of his arms had soothed the flayed and violated creature that Dream had become back to sanity. Before the gnashing rageful part of him had turned predator and fully grown its claws.

Perhaps there is succor to be found, after all. How quickly Hob Gadling has become it.

“I wish that I could have…” Hob sighs. It sounds mournful, longing. “I don’t even know. Helped you. Held you. Futile, I know.”

“I would not have you feel badly. It is long past and cannot be undone,” Dream says, as if Hob’s words don’t mean more to him than he could possibly know.

“Nothing can, sweetheart,” Hob says. His hair brushes Dream’s shoulders. It is terribly soft now, in this day and age. Dream suspects it was not always so. Human lives have rarely been soft on their bodies. He appreciates the softness of Hob’s body now, and how it cradles him. Dream himself has long been unchangeably hard-edged. “But I would still help you.”

“Sweetheart,” Dream repeats. Dream might have been sweet, once, at the end of a different story. “You would call me this, at the end of this tale?”

Hob turns him so they are facing each other once more. A tear has gathered in the corner of his eye, and slips down to wet his pillowcase as Dream watches. Tears for Dream. Warm salt water. He smiles at Dream anyway.

“You’re my sweetheart. My dear one. You think I would think anything about this other than sadness for you?”

“Dear one,” Dream echoes. “Always good to me, my Hob.”

“‘Course.” Hob squeezes his hand. Hands that too have known violence, but soft for Dream, always. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?”

“Only what you have already done,” Dream says. “Be a cavern where I can shelter from the cold.”

Hob kisses him, hot and lingering, and pulls the blankets up over their heads.

#thanks for sending this anon i'm extremely obsessed with it now #thinking about young dream still new to the world building the dreaming for the first time and learning his powers and still full #of softness and wonder and getting ripped to shreds for it #and now i am Screaming #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling #my writing #ask #anonymous #tw gore #tw blood #fuck i did this while i'm supposed to be working so i should really get back to that now. adios

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hayatheauthor · 9 months

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A Step-by-Step Guide to Crafting a Compelling Storyline

I'll warn you, this is a long one. I kind of took 'comprehensive guide' a little too seriously.

You have a fantastic concept burning at the edges of your imagination, a collection of characters whispering their stories to you, and a world just waiting to be explored. But how do you weave all these elements into a story that grips readers and refuses to let go? The answer lies in effective plot planning.

A well-crafted plot isn't just a sequence of events; it's a carefully orchestrated symphony that takes readers on an unforgettable ride. Whether you're an experienced writer or someone trying to start their first book, here are my personal steps to crafting a compelling storyline with good plot planning.

Step 1: Idea Generation and Conceptualization

Every great story begins with a spark of inspiration. It's that moment when an idea ignites in your mind and beckons you to explore its potential. The journey from a fleeting thought to a fully-fledged concept is an exhilarating one, and it all starts with idea generation and conceptualization.

Techniques for Idea Generation

Mind Mapping

Grab a piece of paper or use a digital tool to create a mind map. Write your central idea in the middle and branch out with related concepts, characters, themes, and settings. Mind mapping can help you visualize the connections and possibilities within your idea.

Bullet journalling

Bullet journalling is my personal favourite way to generate ideas for your WIP. Get a piece of paper or open a Word/Docs document and create three different sections: world, characters, and plot. Now add facts to each of those sections that you've come up with so far.

You can even go a step ahead and create more detailed sections, for example, you could do this for your different characters or different places in your world. Usually, one bullet point leads to the next and once you have an idea of everything you've already established you'll naturally start adding more to it.

Blurting

Talk to someone about your WIP, or pretend that you're talking to someone and write down everything that comes to mind. You can even use AI tools like ChatGPT and ask it to hold a conversation with you about your WIP. Tell it to ask you questions along the way, this will get the wheels turning and even help fill plot holes.

Prompts and Challenges

Explore writing prompts or challenges to spark your creativity. Websites, books, or even random word generators can provide the nudge you need to generate fresh ideas.

Refining Your Concept

Once you have a collection of ideas, it's time to refine and shape them into a cohesive concept.

Identify Themes

What themes or messages do you want to convey through your story? Is it a tale of redemption, the power of friendship, or the consequences of ambition? Pinpointing your core themes will guide your storytelling and also give you a clear image of the end goal.

Find Your Angle

Consider what makes your idea unique. How can you approach a familiar concept from a fresh perspective? For example, if you're doing a classic murder mystery, what makes your book different from others? Take some time to look up titles similar to your WIP and find any repetitive themes/patterns.

Maybe most murder mysteries end with the partner being the killer, or maybe the fantasy books written in the same mythology as your WIP's all involve a war. Knowing what is currently a popular trend in the market can give you a clear idea of where you can be different from comparable titles. This is especially important for genres like horror and romance.

Develop a Premise

Your premise is the foundation of your story. It's the "what if?" question that drives your narrative. For instance, "What if an ordinary high school student discovers they have the ability to control time?" You need to have a solid premise before you even think about writing your story.

Step 2: Character Development and Motivation

Characters are the beating heart of your story, and crafting them with depth and authenticity is key to creating a narrative that truly captivates. Your characters often leave more of a lasting impact on your readers than the plot itself.

Think of it this way: a good plot will get you readers, but memorable characters will get you fans. Some of the largest communities in the book space all run on the readers' fondness for certain characters rather than the story itself. Yes, your story and the way you tell it is very important, but nobody wants to listen to the story of a boring person.

Bringing Characters to Life

Personal Histories

Delve into your characters' pasts. What experiences shaped them into who they are today? A traumatic childhood or a life-changing event can influence their motivations and behaviours. Maybe your antagonist has a soft spot for single parents because their mother was the only person who cared for them. Maybe the love interest seems like a sunshine character because they feel the need to always seem put-together and perfect.

Physical Traits

This might sound obvious enough, after all a character's appearance is the first thing people think of when visualising, however, many authors fail to have a clear image of their character's physical traits which can lead to inconsistent or boring descriptions. Sure, your protagonist can have bushy hair and brown eyes, but what else?

Think about their body type, height, fashion sense, the way they carry themselves, walk, and sound. Do they have a random mole at the back of their neck? Do they always smell like a certain perfume because their dead father gifted it to them? It's important for you to have a clear image of who you're writing.

Strengths and Flaws

Just like real people, characters have strengths and weaknesses. These traits affect their decisions and interactions. A courageous hero might also struggle with recklessness, adding complexity to their personality. It's easy to create 2D characters by using tropes or shallow descriptions 'an all-powerful villain' 'the chosen one who trained their whole life and is perfect', but 3D characters are what will actually catch your readers' attention.

There's a reason why people often love the grey characters, the anti-heroes or anti-villains. Those who have complex personalities that make them seem human. This makes us empathise with the characters, and as a writer, it also helps you think of your characters as real people with flaws and problems.

Motivations: The Why Behind the What

Goals and Desires

What do your characters want? Their goals drive the plot forward. A detective's desire to solve a mystery or a scientist's quest for a groundbreaking discovery sets the narrative in motion. Why is your protagonist doing what they are doing?

You could simply give yourself a generic answer like 'they want to save the people' or 'they're a good person' but this can lead to confusion in the long run. If as the writer you yourself can't understand your character's goals it will get very hard to showcase them to your readers. Try to pick apart each character and genuinely consider why they are the way they are.

Inner Conflicts

Characters often grapple with inner turmoil – the clash between their desires, values, and fears. This inner conflict adds layers of intrigue and reliability. Maybe your protagonist realises the antagonist's qualms with the government are actually valid and suffers from moral conflicts as they contemplate whether or not they are the 'good guy'. Inner conflict adds dimension to your characters which in turn makes it easier for your readers to empathise with them.

Step 3: Outlining the Key Plot Points

Now that you have a clear idea of what you want to write and who you want to write it with, it's time to consider the how. You have a story, but how do you want to tell it? Break down the key plot points that shape your narrative, creating a roadmap that guides your characters through their trials and triumphs.

The Building Blocks of Plot

The Inciting Incident

The spark that ignites your story. It's the moment when your protagonist's world is disrupted, setting them on a path of change. For example, in "The Hunger Games," Katniss Everdeen's sister being chosen for the Games is the inciting incident that propels her into the arena.

This can be a little harder to recognise in genres outside of SFF and horror. For a thriller novel, this moment could be the moment your protagonist uncovers a sketchy detail in their relative's death. In romance, it could be the moment your protagonist is introduced to the love interest.

Turning Points

These are pivotal moments that shift the course of your narrative. They introduce new challenges, reveal secrets, or force characters to make crucial decisions. Think of them as the gears that keep your story machine turning. It's important to have some sort of turning point in your story to keep things interesting.

Maybe the character your protagonist was suspecting throughout the first half of the book ends up having a solid alibi, or a seemingly innocent character suddenly seems sketchy.

The Climax

The peak of tension and conflict. It's the moment your characters face their biggest challenge and must make their ultimate choice. In "The Lord of the Rings," the climactic battle at Mount Doom decides the fate of Middle-earth. In a murder mystery, this can be the moment the real killer is unveiled, or in a rom-com, it could be when the love interest moves to a new city to follow the protagonist.

Falling Action and Resolution

As your story winds down, the falling action ties up loose ends and provides closure. Readers witness the aftermath of the climax, and the characters' arcs find resolution. This is the bit where you make sure you aren't leaving any plot holes behind. Remember that random character your protagonist suspected at the start of the book? What's their alibi, why did they suddenly get out of the picture?

Structuring Plot Points

Introduction of Stakes

Introduce what your characters stand to gain or lose early on. This creates a sense of urgency that propels them forward. What if your protagonist fails to complete their missions? What if the detective never unveils the killer's identity? What if your protagonist doesn't win over the love interest? Show your readers the worst possible outcome early on so they know why they should be rooting for your protagonist.

This doesn't necessarily have to be something big or scary. In Harry Potter, many of us wanted Harry to stay at Hogwarts because his life with the Dursleys was cruel and he deserved happiness. That was a small yet significant stake that made the readers empathetic and silently root for Harry.

Foreshadowing and Setup

Plant seeds of future events throughout your story. Foreshadowing builds anticipation and adds depth, making later plot developments more satisfying. I have written a lot of blogs that either cover or briefly mention foreshadowing so I'm going to keep this point a little short.

Foreshadowing helps your readers slowly piece everything together and have that 'I knew it!' or 'how did I not see this coming?' moment. It might also encourage them to turn back and reread your work to focus on the little hints you left throughout the book. Foreshadowing is especially important in murder mysteries.

Step 4: Subplots and Secondary Storylines

Subplots and secondary storylines are the secret ingredients that transform a good story into an unforgettable masterpiece. They add layers of intrigue, provide character development opportunities, and keep readers eagerly turning pages. If you're confused about what is a subplot and how to create one you can visit my previous blog that focuses on this topic.

The Role of Subplots

Enriching Character Arcs

Subplots allow secondary characters to shine. They can showcase different facets of your characters' personalities, revealing their strengths, weaknesses, growth, and relationships.

Theme Reinforcement

Subplots can explore and reinforce your story's themes from various angles. For instance, a romantic subplot can underscore the theme of love and sacrifice, in turn making your protagonist’s heroic death at the end of the novel seem more impactful. We all know Pepper’s reaction to Tony’s death in End Game made the moment more emotional.

While creating subplots and considering which one might be relevant to your book you should think of how this subplot would impact your end goal and whether it would help emotionally connect with your readers.

Parallel Journeys

Subplots can create parallel journeys that mirror or contrast with the main plot. This dynamic adds depth and resonance to your storytelling. Maybe the antagonist’s assistant has a similar backstory to your protagonist but while the protagonist was rescued by the government they were taken in by the antagonist. As the two geniuses face each other your protagonist can’t help but consider whether they would still be fighting for the ‘good’ side had their roles been switched.

Balancing The Main Plot and Subplots

Interconnectedness

Subplots shouldn't feel disconnected from the main plot. Instead, they should interact and influence each other, creating a harmonious narrative flow. Your subplot could help bring a satisfactory end to a certain arc of your story, or it could sow the roots for the important climactic moment of your book.

Pacing and Tension

Strategically introduce subplots to maintain pacing and tension. They can provide moments of relief or heightened drama, enhancing the overall reading experience.

Character Integration

Ensure that characters involved in subplots maintain relevance to the main plot. Their actions and decisions should contribute to the overarching story, even as they pursue their own paths. You should also think about whether or not your character is overshadowing the protagonist. In Harry Potter there were several characters such as Ginny, Luna and Neville with subplots and backstories of their own, however, they never overshadowed Harry’s tale.

Step 5: Crafting Scenes and Sequences

Welcome to the realm where the magic truly comes to life – crafting scenes that resonate, captivate, and propel your story forward. Scenes are the building blocks of your narrative, each one a window into your characters' world and emotions. They help infuse your story with tension, emotion, and unforgettable moments.

Again, this is a topic I’ve covered separately in another blog so I won’t go into too much detail here.

Scene Structure and Elements

Objective and Conflict

Every scene should have a purpose – a clear objective that drives the characters. Introduce conflict that challenges their goals and motivations, creating tension that keeps readers engaged.

Emotion and Stakes

Characters' emotions are the heartbeats of scenes. Amplify emotions by highlighting what's at stake for the characters. Whether it's a heated argument or a tender moment, emotions draw readers in.

Sequences: Crafting a Flow

Cause and Effect

Scenes connect through cause and effect. Each scene's outcome sets the stage for the next, creating a seamless flow that propels the narrative. A character's choice in one scene can reverberate and shape subsequent events.

Rising Action

Craft sequences with escalating tension. The stakes should intensify, drawing characters deeper into challenges and dilemmas. This creates a sense of anticipation that keeps readers eagerly turning pages.

Step 6: Mapping the Journey: Creating a Visual Plot Outline

Visualising your plot, characters, and world can be very hard sometimes. Let's be honest, words can only do so much and if you don't have a clear idea of what you want to show your readers you can end up going down a path of 'telling' them everything. This can take away from the point of your story and end up boring your readers. If you find it hard to visualise where you're going with your book, here are some tips that can help.

Visual Tools for Plot Planning

Timelines and Flowcharts

Create a timeline that outlines the sequence of major events, from inciting incidents to resolution. Flowcharts visually depict the interconnectedness of plot points, making it easy to track the evolution of your story. You can also cut out or add bits depending on how far along you are. This will also help you keep track of what scene/development should be introduced when and why.

Index Cards or Post-Its

Write down key scenes, plot developments, and character arcs on individual index cards or sticky notes. Arrange and rearrange them on a board or wall to visualize the narrative's flow. You can also do this if you're confused about the climax of your novel by adding different ideas to the post-its and putting them alongside the rest of the book's plot to see what things would look like from a reader's perspective.

Infusing Creativity

Playlists

Curate a playlist that captures the mood and emotions of your story. Music has the power to transport you to the heart of your narrative, helping you channel the right atmosphere while plotting. You can listen to this playlist every time you sit down to write WIP. With time, this will also help you overcome writer’s block since you can put on this playlist every time you struggle to get into the right writing mindset.

Moodboards/Pinterest Boards

Create a visual feast by collecting images, aesthetics, and visuals that embody your story's essence. Platforms like Pinterest allow you to craft moodboards that serve as visual touchstones. I would recommend creating a separate pinboard for every character so you can get a clear idea of their vibe and appearance. You can even refer to these every time you're writing about or from the perspective of a new character.

Step 7: Flexibility and Adaptability

As you embark on your writing journey, remember that stories have a life of their own. Embracing flexibility and adaptability is your compass through uncharted territories.

Allow characters to surprise you, let plots pivot, and themes emerge. Balancing structure with spontaneity ensures a dynamic narrative that resonates deeply. Listen to your characters, explore ethical complexities, and evolve alongside your story.

By staying open to the unexpected, you infuse your writing with authenticity and richness. Your plot outline is a guide, but your characters and themes have the power to shape the course. Embrace the unpredictable, and watch your story flourish beyond your imagination.

I hope this blog on A Step-by-Step Guide to Crafting a Compelling Storyline will help you in your writing journey. Be sure to comment any tips of your own to help your fellow authors prosper, and follow my blog for new blog updates every Monday and Thursday.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks?

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Haya’s book blog where I post writing and publishing tips for authors every Monday and Thursday! And don’t forget to head over to my TikTok and Instagram profiles @hayatheauthor to learn more about my WIP and writing journey!

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kremlin · 8 months

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it is really, really funny to see these bush-league never-was dumbfuck crypto losers go out and spend $300k of borrowed money on gray market A100s in an attempt to mine cryptocurrency (which they will have no success with) just solely on the premise that those things are called "GPUs"

i was reading one account of a guy on reddit with a throwaway account freaking out because he bought SXM socket A100s which, like, it was pretty clear his thinking was that because he could manage to put together a embarrassing gamer PC, he would have no trouble with this. even experienced datacenter techs will avoid SXM if they possibly can, that shit is meant to be installed by the vendor, doing it yourself (especially on 300% marked up gray market hardware) is completely bonkers:

if you ever had an AMD cpu back in the day (i remember way back when i had a top of the line phenom 2 lol) you might remember pin sockets:

you had to align all of these incredibly fucking fragile gold pins right above their corresponding hole on the socket, you had to drop it in just perfectly and if you didn't, you absolutely could not nudge it in place otherwise you'd bend a pin and the whole thing is fucked

(i remember fucking one up & freaking out, i had worked at a grocery store all through summer in middle school to buy it, i took it to a jeweler who couldn't fix it, eventually found the pinout, and the pin i bent was unused, by the grace of god)

anyways, SXM is this but a billion times worse. the vendors that sell the server packages have special jigs they use to align them properly, trying to install freehand is just, rofl

and that isn't even the end of the story, if homeboy gets past seating it without fucking a pin up, he'll 100% not torque the cooler down properly, it won't be flush, and the thing will cook itself the moment its powered on

not that any of this matters though, even if all done correctly, the core concept would not work. if you try and run vertex CUDA mining routines on these ""GPUs"", it'll be like trying to make pesto with your garbage disposal. that is how little foresight these people have. lmfao.

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spiriteddreams · 10 months

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I Know the End

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader Warnings: angst Word Count: ~2k A/N: season 2 is out who's ready to cry with me :D

Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was all red. But it’s easy to be selfish when you are in love. You hold onto the concept like a lifeline and become strung alone in this clothesline of hearts. Your emotions are spread thin, clipped at the edges at the result of a strained relationship.

A love with Gojo Satoru was never one for the books. It was whispered words when no one was looking and lingering touches when you pass by one another. How many years have you played this cruel game with him? The memories bleed together as do the years and yet you hold on selfishly. To him, the world did not need to know of the way his crystal eyes lingered a second too long on your figure, or the way he swore upon empty promises to no one but you. He loves so easily, sly with his words and so eager to be around you. His touch is a brand, his words a blunt knife, driving in, digging deep, dismantling you bit by bit. But the worst comes when the overwhelming weight of it all feels heaviest whilst you are alone. If there’s one thing that becomes clear the longer you’re around him, it’s that Gojo Satoru is far too good at pushing people away. He’s so easy to get along with and you find yourself falling for him before you even realize it. But he keeps people at a distance. No matter how close you may be, physically and emotionally, it’s like you run into Infinity everytime.

And yet you glorify it in your head, pretend that sickly sweet words and phantom touches are real. You cling to the memories in the worst way possible, because everyone leaves you before Gojo does. And when he finally does, he does it so casually cruel that you think you feel his technique shoot through your chest and leave a gaping hole as you bleed. You tell yourself that you have parted on good terms, because in your head, it is easiest to remember the good rather than the bad.

You remember high school days, hand clasped around Shoko’s as you chased after two boys who wobbled on a bike together. The blissful ignorance of childhood is one that you wish you would have treasured longer. Because a mission gone wrong turned the course of fate and you could only watch as both Gojo and Geto stumbled down their separate paths. Only that Gojo’s led towards you and your open arms. The guilt for not reaching out far enough for Geto still eats at you and you wonder if perhaps Gojo holds that against you.

But when you recall the memories and bury yourself under sheets and stare at picture frames that collect dust and his text messages you’ve chosen to ignore, you are selective about your memories. Because the good is warm and comfortable and loving and oh so cruel. But the good is followed by the bad in a tidal wave that crashes upon the shore during high tide. It pulls you into the deep, that freezing painful deep that stings your skin and shocks you to your core. And then you are drowning in hurt, in tears, in unrelenting sadness as you mourn over a relationship held together by cobwebs.

But forever will you believe that Gojo Satoru is deserving of highest praise. His name carries across the stories of the legendary holder of the Six Eyes who, when he was born, shook the world. And he knows it. You relish the days when your friends, your family would tease you both. Words of appraisal cooing over the two of you even as Gojo looked away with a blush on his face and grumbled for everyone to “stop making a big deal out of nothing.” But even as he said those words, he didn’t pull away from your touch, instead leaning closer, as if chasing the brush of your fingertips against his skin.

Then it ends. It ends on a day you least expect it the most, when the sun is warm and caresses your face and you think that it is just another day of rest, basking in the sun. Despite that, the heavy feeling in your chest that had been building for the past few days has seemed to fester, ready to spill over. Something is near and you know it, can feel it and no matter how much you try to push away the growing anxiety, it sits heavy in your chest. You wonder if Gojo’s noticed. And as if he was reading your thoughts, he appears, calling your name with a tone that douses you in cold. Peeking through his sunglasses, his blue eyes look duller than usual.

“Are you okay?” you sit up, watching as Gojo looks down at you for a moment, then looks away. He is silent and you wish you could read what was going on in his head. Perhaps that’s always been one of the hardest things about loving someone who’s walls have been built up for so long that even when he allows you to peek through one crack, it becomes smoothed over in an instant, blocking you right back out.

He sighs, “I’m fine.” His words are far too clipped for comfort and you straighten up, staring up at him in confusion. You don’t prod him to speak, knowing that when he wants to, he will. Gojo likes to choose his words slowly, precise and careful with everything he says. He dislikes rushing into things, and gods knows how much he spends in his head mulling over his thoughts. It scares you, more than you’ll admit, to know that there are a million things that Gojo has, and will always, keep from you.

“I think we should end things.” The words take a moment to register, but when they do, you’re snapping your head up, eyes wide and mouth parted in shock. “Before you argue about it, I’ve already thought it over,” Gojo says bluntly. He still refuses to look at you. “I don’t think beneficial for us to see each other.”

You stare at him in shock. “Beneficial? You act as if this is just a romance of convenience.” The cold seeps into your tone before you register it. But Gojo looks unfazed, as if he was prepared for this. It scares you. It’s just another one of those things he’s kept to himself. “Satoru, what’s going on?” He hates the way you say his name, so breathy and concerned. Sometimes he feels as if you can see right through him. He wonders if you’ve caught onto his own lies that have begun to wrap around his own throat.

“The distance between us has grown too far, I don’t think it’s fair for us to continue to pretend that we feel the same,” Gojo shakes his head. You push yourself to your feet, gathering your composure before fixing him with a glare, the same defiant glare that drew him in. He takes a shaky breath and reminds himself that this is necessary in the long run. You will be safer if you are farther away from him and this path that he’s chosen to follow. The sacrifices that are sure to come will put you both in a precarious position where you will have to choose between one another and the greater need of Jujutsu society. And if Gojo can make that decision before it tears you apart on the spot, it’s a risk he’s willing to take. The apologies can come later, he’ll grovel at your feet if he has to, put aside his ego and swear up and down that he’ll never deceive you like this again. But for now, please, he begs, please just let him do what he needs to do before someone else forces your hand.

“No,” you shake your head, eyes narrowed as you take a step towards him and jab a finger at his chest. Your eyes widen momentarily when you make contact with the hard plane of his clothed chest; he let down Infinity. “No, you don’t get to pull this on me. One week ago you were telling me how I was yours for the rest of your life and now you’re trying to break up with me? Cut the bullshit, Satoru.” He hears the tremble in your voice and he’s not sure who you’re trying to convince more: you or him.

“Look, I’ve been thinking—”

“Then stop thinking!” you shout. You sound irrational and you know it. The tears gathering in your eyes are a clear sign of it. “You’re making it sound like this is all some thought out, self-sacrificing, selfish plan and—” You both stare at one another. Gojo hates that you know him so well because you come to the right conclusion far too quickly and he knows that you’re not going to back down now.

“This is your plan isn’t it,” you say quietly, voice tinged with disbelief. Gojo was known for his plans, well thought out and well executed to success. So careful and thoughtful in the process and you’ve watched him time and time again commit to things without a second thought. So to hear that you’re part of this next selfish plan, placed in this position, ready to be swallowed up on his chessboard is a slap in the face. You can play dirty too and in this moment, with anger and disbelief clouding your thoughts and vision, you strike faster than him.

“Fine. You want to break up, then we break up. But we’re doing it on my terms,” your words are all bark and no bite but you refuse to let him see. You hold back the tears and push through your watery words as you step back.

“If you want to call it off, then it’s off for good. When all this shit is over I’m going back to Kyoto and I don’t ever want to see your stupid, pretty, face again!” you stumble over your words and Gojo only watches behind his glasses, mouth pressed into a thin line. You want to rip them off his face and force him to look you in the eyes and tell the truth. Far too cocky for his own good, you hate that Gojo Satoru is so effortlessly cruel and fuck does it make you angry. The words spill and you take low jabs, both verbally and physically and Gojo just takes it. He takes the watery calls of his name and the cursing, your gasps of breath and your own selfish cruelty that he knows damn well that you don’t mean.

By the time he disappears, you’re left with nothing but the crisp air of Autumn. Sharp and stinging in the back of your throat, you inhale sharply as you whip your head in the direction you know he’s gone in: your shared home. The worst part is that you had both kept things a secret, a little game where you both sat at other ends of a glass table and now that it's shattered, where do you turn to, who do you turn to?It is then that you finally realize that despite your own attempts to twist the game, you had fallen right in. Blinded by the sudden rush of anger and the overflow of anxiety from the past few days you had done exactly what he had wanted. A breakup is a breakup, whether or not it is on his terms or your terms. And you know that now the words have been said, it’ll be hell to try to find him and talk it back over.

If only he was still around to hear your cries of his name as you run towards him, bloodied and battered, voice hoarse as you frantically search for him in Shibuya. You catch wind of the words “prison realm” and your blood runs cold.

On October 31, Gojo Satoru feels his limbs stiffen and his mind races. You’re still out there, still fighting, still angry, still cursing his name with love disguised as hatred. You’re still out there but so long as you stay out there, stay alive then things are all going according to plan. And when he finds a way to escape, to destroy those cursed fingers once and for all, he’ll grovel at your feet and promise to love you to whatever end.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3 Bonus: @shiinleaf and gojo kiss and make up and there was no official breakup and all is well

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #jjk #gojo #spiriteddreams writing #spiriteddreams

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