If Your Plot Feels Flat, STUDY It! Your Story Might Be Lacking...

Have you ever think the reason why Cale is protective to children is not because..

Of his childhood but the state of the apocalypse done to children. Have u seen children, toddlers in any apocalypse movies? Or the problem being shown in the movie “quiet place” having a toddler and a baby with monsters sensitive in noise? There is a great chance that in apocalypse, children and toddlers are abandon, bought over yet killed in the way, or in the worse case scenario, cannibalism like what in the movies “snowpiercer, 2013” where they have no choice but to e.a.t the babies. Histories of where human is driven into cannibalism because of hunger.

Why Cale wishes the children, even the wolf children, and Lily stay as what children is. He just accepted the fact the children wants weapon as toys or Ron teaching the kittens, Sheritt to Lock, Choi Han to the wolf children so that the children knows self defense and take care of themselves in danger. Trying not to repeat the same thing of their pasts and his failure to what happened to the apocalypse, maybe another reason why he thinks of him as a trash.

Like the novel doesn’t mention any children except the teen siblings in the sealed god test In the earth 2.

After all, Cale had seen the cruelest and darkest side what can humanity do in the apocalypse.

Btw this just a theory of mine.

Some doodles as well!!

I was reading abralhugres ' "one last death" and "I'll save you when you're weak"

There will BE no friendship. (And yes I'm still not dead and still have intents on coming back here)

A More Compassionate View: The Red Soul is Here to Help

Or “Gaster invited The Red Soul in to save the world of Deltarune, and he specifically wanted a Post-Pacifist Red Soul for the job”.

Keep reading

042 - board meeting

edit I KNOW THE BATTER TALKS MOB TALKS TOO . THEYRE NOT ALL SILENT PROTAGS

Reaction fics are a beloved trope of LOTCF fanfiction, but let me pose a challenge to the concept. Rather than a god deciding to show the audience Cales life as a punishment/gift for the future/to help them in some way, what if it was instead just a godly whim?

The reason they are there is incomprehensible. It doesn't make sense. The god either won't explain, or doesn't care to. The scenes they're shown are helpful in some ways, but not in others. Why are they here? How do they get out?

I'd like to see a reaction fic where the goal of the audience is to leave. They neither want nor need to see the deep, dark depths of their leader. And they will never, ever accept something without knowing the intentions behind it.

This is better if there's another driving force behind why they are desperate to leave. Someone is missing (Cale?), something is happening on the outside (something important), or they're getting signs- hints- figurative or literal writing on the walls from the previous participants in this game that don't spell a happy ending for what comes after this. Something is behind this, and that something doesn't truly care about them.

No one to assure them, "if you just watch his life, everything will be fine." Or when it is assured, the audience fights back. The god assured them, again, they just have to watch. Watch and understand. But they find ways to get out- they have to be dragged back, one by one, into that theater room. It should be fun to watch them analyze the manners of their leader or his backwards thinking, except it isn't. They keep fighting against it. Why are they fighting? Something that isn't human could never understand.

It's an idea I had based off our own manipulation. We write reaction fics for our own amusement. We want to force these characters into a box and make them react to Cale. We are a god that does this- not to help them, not to give a gift to them- it is for our amusement. It's fun to watch them react.

But isn't it out of character for them to not fight back? With biting words and violent actions? These characters don't simply allow themselves to be beaten into submission. Coerced into bowing their heads. We'd have to tie them to their chairs and make them sit and watch. And that's something I see in a lot of reaction fics too.

Usually the best way to keep these characters in place is via the Cale Method. Cale is injured and has to heal, it's a price he has to pay, he's being threatened, etc. It'd be cool if there was something else forcing them down like muzzled dogs. Just my thoughts though.

*anyone is free to run with the ideas from this or any idea built off of this (with no credit)

**but I'd love to be sent anything like it

Random TCF Shower Thoughts Time:

do you think Cale would K.O. if he used Instant and Record at the same time?

How bad would Cale's records act up if he was trapped under some rubble somewhere for days during part 2, far from his family?

(longer idea inspired by us questioning Cale's third ability below)

Give me Cale with some sort of Survivor ability. Where Kim Rok Soo lives because he literally can't die. Where whenever he's on the edge of death, when his heart is about to stop, Survivor kicks in and goes above and beyond his limits to keep him from dying, be it by fighting or running away. Where during a battle Cale is fatally injured and his body stills for one second before immediately getting back up, forcing broken bones back into place and wiping blood from his face and gunning it towards the enemy like doom incarnate.

His family is screaming because "gods dammit Cale-nim/Unlucky bastard/Cale-nya/Human/Young Master/Dongsaeng you're bleeding out!!! you've done enough, stop fighting!!!" And something feels so Wrong about this and they don't like it one bit. But they can't place what's wrong until after the battle once they've forced Cale to lay down and realize he hasn't said a word and has been diligently listening to their demands that he rest and let them handle the rest.

His eyes are blank, not like when he uses Record, no it's worse somehow. There's nothing behind his eyes at all-Survivor is active and in control, not Cale. Cale's down for the count, deep deep down somewhere recovering because that attack did more damage than anybody realized and he's not waking up anytime soon.

Give me everyone losing their minds over this with worry and fear because there is Something walking around that looks like their beloved red head, Something that mechanically eats apple pie and drinks lemon tea but doesn't pet the kittens and give them a scammer smile. Give me the kids rambling about their days in his lap. Give me Alberu offering Cale golden plaque after golden plaque. Give me Choi Han quietly whispering to Cale in Korean while he guards him day after day. Give me everyone doing everything they can think of to get his attention and wake him up, only for Survivor to ignore it all.

Survivor is there to ensure Cale's physical wellbeing-to help him survive, not to help him live (because yes there is a difference)

Isekai

The story this world was created for didn’t pan out, but I still love it. So I sent a visitor from our world to this one, who is not delighted to find that instead of a clear conflict between good and evil, she is confronted with something very different.

#

The priest led the way into the great hall. “It is strange to me,” he said chattily, “that you do not know the gods. Surely there is no place so far that the gods do not hold sway there.”

The stranger cleared her throat. “I do not… know that I do not,” she said carefully. “By other names, or seemings, perhaps… but I would know them as you know them.”

“Ah, I see. Yes, that I can understand.” The priest smiled. With his long grey hair and beard flowing over a white robe, he looked like a small, spare saint himself, genial and contented. “Then I will tell it to you from the beginning.” He walked up the length of the hall, and gestured to the two statues that stood on either side of the great altar, with the gold-leaf sun and hammered silver moon on the wall above it.

“There are eight gods,” he said, and his voice settled into the cadence of one repeating an old teaching. “And no one of the eight stands alone, but always as one of a pair. First among the gods stand Elu and Surm, whose aspects are those of Life and Death. There are those who say that they are the parents of the other gods, and others who say that they are only the oldest, but all that the others are springs ultimately from them.”

“I see.” The stranger looked up at the statue on the left, who stood by the golden sun. “Elu… life… is perhaps the one I know as the Mother.”

“Yes, for all life comes from a mother.” The priest nodded, also gazing up at the statue. It was beautifully crafted, perhaps twice as tall as the stranger, a vivid portrayal of a woman of middle years, with the rounded belly and hips of children borne, the plump limbs of health and plenty, lines of wisdom and of humour on her face. She wore a loose robe, and a crown of leaves and flowers on her long hair, and fruit and grain filled the basket in her hands. “Elu brings life, and all that lives, from the greatest beast to the smallest, from the richest fruit to the smallest seed, from humankind to a flower that blooms and dies in a single day.”

He turned to the other statue, Surm. This was a man, also of middle years, but he wore armour, and carried a bow in his hand. “And Surm, her opposite and equal, who closes the circle. Where there is life, there must also be death, and Surm rules over all forms of death. He is a warrior, and a hunter, and also a healer, as is Elu, for the healer stands between life and death. Surm is the ending, as Elu is the beginning, but in truth they are the two halves of a circle, for from death life comes again, and from life death is born.” He gestured up at the sun and moon. “Elu is the first of what we name the sunward four, and Surm of the moonward, for the sun and the moon, like the gods, are a pair, opposite and yet united.”

“I see. Who comes next?”

“Of the other three pairs, the order in which they stand varies. They are all of equal status and importance, as gods, but in different times and places some may take a greater hand than others.” The priest moved back a few paces. “Here, the second pair are those we call Kord, the sunward, who represents order and creation, and Kaos, the moonward, who represents chaos and destruction.”

The stranger looked from Kord, a statue of a man holding a chisel and a measuring rod, his robes perfect, his braids as straight as the rod, to Kaos, a woman all disorder, from her wild curls to her ragged motley to her very pose – while Kord stood erect, Kaos was dancing, one foot raised, ribbons flying about her. “Good and evil?” the stranger asked, frowning.

“No, order and chaos.” The priest frowned too. “All the gods have their aspects of both good and evil, of course. Elu creates life, and she is the mother of the devouring wolf or bear just as she is of the lamb or the kid. Surm brings death on the battlefield, but also peace after long life and ease after suffering. Kord is the god of order, of precision, of law and of rule, of measurement and of numbers. But Kord is a sterile god, and life does not thrive under his governance.” He turned to wild, laughing Kaos. “Kaos reigns over destruction, it is true, but not all forms of disorder are destructive. She is the song of the bird and the frisking of a foal as well as the destruction of the earthquake or the tidal wave, and she rules over weather both good and bad. She also rules the human heart, its loves and hates, and she brings both joy and sorrow.”

“I see.” The stranger did not sound as if she saw, but she looked thoughtfully at Kord and Kaos before they moved on to the next pair.

“On the sunward side, Sugulahna, the neighbour, the kinswoman, the ally, the friend, the loyal one.” This statue was young and vigorous, with a cheerful smile. She wore a simple tunic, and held out an open hand. “Sugulahna is the goddess of unity, of trust, of loyalty. When she stands with her brother Kord, they watch over cities and towns, and places where many people must live together in order and harmony. With Kaos, she signifies love and friendship, the ties of family and the bonds of loyalty. In her benign aspect, she is generosity and faith. But turned aside, she is the selfish partner, the treacherous lover, the ungrateful child, the usurper and betrayer. She is all that is best and worst in those around us.”

“One who can give great pain and great joy,” the stranger commented.

“None can give greater.” The priest nodded solemnly. “And on the moonward side stands Vu’uras, who is often called ‘the Stranger’.” The statue could hardly be called a statue, exactly, for no face or clear form could be discerned under the enveloping robes that might as easily have covered a clothing-stand as a human figure. The only sign of the body underneath was a single slender hand extending from a sleeve to clasp a traveller’s staff. “The Stranger is the Other, the traveller, the foreigner. The Stranger, when standing with Kord, is the diplomat, the envoy, the spy. With Kaos, the chance-met helper or kindly passer-by… or the bandit. The Stranger is sexless and unknowable, and yet the Stranger delights in the sharing of knowledge.”

The stranger smiled slightly. “Like me. A stranger chance-come, who knows nothing but wishes to learn?”

“Indeed, just like.” The priest moved on to the last pair of statues. “Here you see, on the sunward side, Teadmised, who is the god of knowledge and learning. Teachers, scholars, and the wise are all in his domain, and he is said to have created all means of record-keeping, from wall paintings and lore songs and tally marks to the written word.” He beamed up at the statue. Like the priest, Teadmised was an old man, long-bearded and a little stooped, with a lean, kindly face. He was wrapped in a long robe with a stole, and carried in his hands a scroll and a brush. “Teadmised is the god of wisdom. His benign aspect brings invention, and art, and joy, but his reverse is deception, and error, and lies.”

He turned to gesture at the moonward goddess. “This is his sister Salahdused, who rules over mystery, and secrets, and the unknown. Vu’uras and Surm’s realms both overlap with hers, for death and the stranger both partake of the unknown. Salahdused is the hardest of all the gods to understand, by her very nature, and thus is most often the one distrusted, or considered ‘evil’ as you put it.” He patted the base of the statue. It portrayed another hooded figure, but unlike the Stranger’s, this hood did not conceal a slyly smiling face, and the sleeves of the robe fell back to show slender arms, one hand raising a lighted lamp, the other cradling a wrapped bundle against her hip. “Certainly the unknown can be dangerous, and secrets can wound. Her domain is darkness and the sea, hidden caves and deep water and secret places, all dangerous to humankind. And yet she is also the goddess of luck, which is its own kind of mystery. She can bring ruin and betrayal and death, but she is also the unknown friend, good fortune unlooked for, and aid when all hope is lost.” His voice softened. “It is Salahdused who brings misfortune, and hope, and to whom we all turn at last, with curse or with plea. And when her father Surm comes, to guide the dead onward, it is Salahdused who holds up the lamp to light the way.”

“A goddess we all need, though we may not always be grateful.” The stranger looked up and down the lines again. “They are *all* the known and the unknown, are they not? On the sunward side, in the light of day, stand Life, Order, Family and Knowledge. On the moonward side, Death, Chaos, the Stranger, and Mystery.”

“Yes, exactly!” The priest sounded pleased. “Not many people see that, without being told. That is why they are ordered so. Some people think it is because the sunward are kindlier, but it is not so. It is only that they stand for what we understand. And under the moon, which waxes and wanes, stand the gods who rule over the unpredictable and unknown.”

“Most people… where I come from… equate light with good, and darkness with evil.” The stranger tugged absently on her braid. “But your gods are… more complicated than that.”

“Good and evil are not real things,” the priest said simply. The stranger looked at him, and he smiled gently. “I do not mean that they do not exist, but they are not… of the world. Birth, life, is real. Death is real. They exist, they have substance. A measuring rod or the wildly rolling debris of an avalanche are real. Family is real. Strangers are real. A story or a written word are real things, as are the sea and caves and deep water, be they understood or not. And all of those things may bring about good or evil, depending on circumstances. They can be used for good or evil. But good and evil are not, in themselves, real things.”

She nodded slowly, looking at the gods. “So to you… good and evil are in the effects. The aspects. The intent. Not… powers, in themselves.”

“Yes, you understand.” The Priest bent to pick up a dead leaf from the ground, which might have fallen from a shawl, or blown in through one of the high windows. “Take this leaf. If it fell on a stony street, it might grow wet, and slip under a foot, and cause injury or death. If it fell on barren ground, in its decay it would render the ground a little less barren. Here on the floor of the temple, it might cause additional trouble to a sweeper… or provide a priest with a timely example, thus doing me, and you, good.” He smiled. “But the leaf’s nature does not change. It is just a leaf. How, in its falling, it affects others… that depends entirely on circumstance.”

“I see.” This time, she sounded as if she did understand, and she took the leaf and held it gently. “And what of people, priest? Are they not good or evil?”

“Of course they are. Mostly one, or mostly the other, or more often a mixture of both in some degree.” The priest shrugged. “But that a matter of choice, and of intention, and even then it is very rare that an action does not have effects both good and bad, whatever the intention. To come upon a man robbing another man, and to intervene – well, from the point of view of the man who was being robbed, that is a good action. From the point of view of the robber, it is a bad one.” He smiled serenely. “As the proverb says, the storm that sinks a ship may bring rain to the fields.”

The stranger was silent for a time, seeming to consider, and the priest waited patiently. When at last she spoke, there was a note of frustration in her voice. “I have never known a faith, or gods, so adamantly to set their faces against certainty.”

The priest laughed. “Oh, if it is certainty you want, Kord is in accord with you. He loves certainty. One will always be one, and a square will always be a square. An arch correctly made will not fall, and a law followed will bring order. There’s great comfort in certainty! But certainty is the enemy of growth, and invention, and change, and so Kaos dances through Kord’s order, bringing destruction and growth and change.” He folded his hands over his belly and looked up at the sun and moon on the wall, his voice gentling. “I think that what you are seeking is not certainty but simplicity. An easy answer. The good and the evil. But what is real is never simple, and the gods least of all. All we mere mortals can do is the best we can, with what we have.”

The stranger sighed. “I know that you are right,” she said. “But the other would be easier.”

“It is not the responsibility of the gods to make your life easy,” the priest said, a little tartly. “It is the responsibility of the gods to make life possible. The rest is your own affair.”

A concept in my head that been rolling around a lot:

Hanahaki, but instead of it being triggered by unrequited love, it's triggered because all the love you have for a person turns inwards because you're too afraid to show it.

So it kills you, not because someone doesn't love you back, but because you don't let it out and all that love you have stored, that could grow into something beautiful, turns on you and turns your insides beautiful.

Love is growth, and without any place for it to grow outside, it grows in. If you confess, reciprocated or not, the disease goes away because it's no longer trapped. It gives self-destruction a new meaning.

The entirely scientific Circle Diagram, explaining the principles behind TCF Paradigm of Misunderstandings(TM)

🧐