#I would ASCEND to see art of my characters!!

[nikki-tine]

So it's come to my attention that despite the page I have set up within the desktop version of my blog, I don't have a mobile version of an introduction post here. Oops! This one's newly written, too, in a different format than the other.

So, that being said - Hello!

I am Nikki/Niko (Whichever you prefer!) and I am a 27-year old Genderfluid artist person (My birthday is on January 9th!). I don't think there's too much to be said here, but I can and will say with confidence that this blog has been, especially in the last few or so years built up to be a catch-all for whatever I deem good to reblog or post (All of which typically related to fluff stuff, feel-good vibes or something that I may feel strongly about).

This place is, and always will be a safe space for a) People with disabilities (I am autistic, have ADD and Bipolar as well as Anxiety) and b) LGBTQ+-identifying people (I am, as mentioned before Genderfluid, and I'm Pansexual Panromantic!).

If a reblog or post makes you uncomfortable, then I will happily delete it if asked.

I make it a point to keep these posts SFW especially nowadays - however, I can't quite vouch for possibly the oldest of my posts (as I've been here since the early 2010s along with some ol' dumb teen thoughts involved and it'd take forever to sort absolutely everything out from over a decade ago at this point). I'm pretty sure that I've removed most of the NSFW stuff already from those years ago, but if I missed something then I don't mind deleting it as long as you let me know first (I'm incredibly disorganized and would appreciate a nudge in the right direction).

With these details out of the way - I am an artist that dabbles in various fandoms with no real sense of rhyme or reason outside of either hyperfixated interest or otherwise with the intent to update old ideas and refresh them into new ones. Like most artists on the internet, I ask that you do not repost without credit, trace and/or copy my work. I'm quite literally living paycheck by paycheck with my family right now. You CAN however use my artwork as a reference or as inspiration for your own work - If you do, lemme know! I'd love to see the result!

Here's a vague list of fandoms I dabble in (though my post history doesn't quite show that as I tend to leave most of my stuff to posting on Discord instead):

Pokemon (I've been a part of this one almost my entire life lol)

Sonic the Hedgehog (Another fandom I've been in for a grand majority of my life! I'm more of a casual fan as I haven't made much art recently, but I still absolutely love looking at what others come up with for OCs and stuff.)

Undertale (ESPECIALLY AU-centric)

Digimon (Passionate about this one specifically - I have a project I've been working with under this fandom since 2014 on and off)

Cookie Run (Kingdom primarily with a minor Ovenbreak focus for AU concept ideas)

Dark Cloud/Dark Chronicle (This one's SO obscure, but if you know these games then I give you a virtual baked good of your liking! These two games hold a very special place in my heart.)

Dance Dance Revolution, NotITG, Friday Night Funkin (I'm a rhythm game nerd and love the creativity of the communities surrounding these three - I just haven't been able to piece together anything for it yet visually except for FNF stuff on and off)

A Dance of Fire and Ice (Same as the DDR fandom part, but I've made a couple fanart pieces before so this one I may have an easier time of conceptualizing later)

FNAF (Specifically Security Breach AU work! This one's not as frequent as others but I still have stuff in mind for it. Security Breach is how I finally caved with the FNAF series as a whole after watching how the fandom grew over the years.)

Warriors (Warrior Cats, in our year 2024? Eeyup. I just like the funny spiritual witties!)

Team Fortress 2 (This one's in and out but it's one that I come back to a lot as my boyfriend, regularly interacting and involved in the GMOD animation community reminds me of my own TF2 stuff with his presence alone lol. Love you James! <3)

Persona 3, 4 and 5 (This one's a lil self-explanatory but I have AU ideas surrounding these games that I want to make more art for eventually)

If I have anything else not listed before, I'll add it to the list. C: Please keep in mind that although I dabble in these fandoms, AU versions of existing characters may be changed in terms of sexuality, personality etc to reflect the AU they are from (For example, I have a version of Cream Unicorn Cookie that uses he/they pronouns, and my Redeemed!Pomegranate Cookie from the same AU leans bisexual over lesbian for reasons relating to reflection of character and overall character development. I like to make characters more flexible while self-indulging, so keep this in mind). I note this because my own headcanons about certain characters have set off one or two people in the past unintentionally and they VERY much have pushed things in an effort to keep canon down my throat out of retaliation. Let's just say that this part in particular is a thing that taps a sore spot for me for personal reasons. :/

When it concerns making art of my characters - surprise or not, feel free to make art of them and mention me in post (and/or message me, either way works)! It makes me feel SO loved when I get art from others, and I appreciate every piece dearly. 💜💜💜 (I go so far as to hold onto an archive of art that was done for me - with artist names in-tact within the file name nowadays!)

A few things to consider when it concerns tickling-related matters with me:

I am a Switch! I'm unsure how far Ler or Lee I am just yet, but I do enjoy tickling both ways. Unfortunately, however, I'm the kind of person that practically flies across a room when poked,, (if it comes down to tickling my sona - Niko Spirata - tie or hold 'em down if you want to wreck 'em with tickles lol)

My interest in tickling alone is purely SFW - It feels too weird looking at IRL photos/videos with very rare exception (a lot of the exception is the giggle the lee produces from ticklish contact). As a result, all the stuff I'll be reblogging and posting here is art or animation-related instead!

My favorite tickle trope is the one where a shrunken someone or a small something wiggles under the unwitting lee's clothing to tickle them! (Points at wormonastriing's Squirmles as an example of this trope :3) No, seriously. If I end up with art of any of my characters getting destroyed with tickles in this manner I will ASCEND BEYOND GALAXIES.

My favorite spots with tickling overall are belly, side and rib tickling - on rarer occasions, I enjoy tickling in other places (I prefer foot tickling if the lee has paws instead of normal feet!). This lines up with a particular enjoyment of characters being slightly chubby! I looove a good squeeze of the sides or belly, enough to get the lee blurting out giggles.

I have only a few tags I use now on a regular, but these are:

#nikki-tine (This is my user tag and I put it in with my art posts and other things I post sometimes. You may also see others' posts under this tag, primarily with stuff related to asks or when art's been posted for me in the past <3)

#art, #tickle art, #tickling art (These are self-explanatory!)

#NJEGNJ (Something to that effect, lol. It's not exact but keyboard smash tag is typically wrote similarly or around the same for several posts, all of which ones that got me chuckling or giggling like a dork!)

~

My Commission Status is currently set to OPEN (paypal prioritized for now).

It's really complicated, however, and I don't have any other methods than Paypal and Robux right now so if you have questions about that then feel free to message me and I'll try to clear it up as best I can!

I only have two prices, both fully colored and shaded.

Chibies are $25 USD (+ 5 for an extra character)

My normal art style is $50 USD (+ 10 for an extra character)

I do best leaving the BG transparent, but if I HAVE to work on one then I can do nature-themed backgrounds pretty okay. It’s not a strong-suit of mine, however…

My Art Trade Status is Busted Wide Open™ to Mutuals, but I'm a little picky and choosy with random people.

If I decline an Art Trade, please don't take it personally!

In terms of Roleplay, It's Closed on-blog, BUT I'm Open to Roleplay in Discord servers (Provided there's a Tupperbot there for me to use).

I've been looking to find an RP server that has mutuals/friends and allows Undertale-related stuff (especially of the tickling-related kind!), so if you're a part of one please let me know!

DM Status overall is Open (As long as you are kind to me, I will return kindness back!).

My Asks are ALWAYS OPEN! I really like getting stuff in my inbox (and I unfortunately don't get asks often at all).

I'm most comfortable interacting with other adults and SFW blogs (this is more-so for safety than anything else on my end. I don't have the emotional or mental energy to handle potential drama involving context-disconnected words). I don't mind interacting with NSFW blogs here but only if in the context of specific interests of mine and not much else.

I don't really have much in the way of who can't interact with me as long as you are respectful/mindful of chat etiquette and are aware of the kind of impact you may make in messaging people like myself.

I do my best to look at blog descriptions and respect DNI's - If I end up poking at something I shouldn't by accident, as long as it's not met with aggression in DMs, I will happily fix whatever problem you may have related to that. I HATE making others uncomfortable/upset!

If you have questions, feel free to ask! I don't really use other forms of Social Media, but I do use some websites with a social aspect to them casually.

Links:

Flightrising (Funny dragon site)

Chicken Smoothie (This one's a fun lil adopt site from the late 2000s)

GPX Plus (This is literally Pokefarm Q before Pokefarm Q lol)

Gaia Online (Another old site with unfortunate currency inflation, but it's the site that's kept me going with character designing and such over the years! The blog part here is old, but the avatar is updated from time to time. This site is the reason I lean on Monochrome + a color as an aesthetic a lot lol)

Bluesky (mostly inactive - want activity there? nudge me here!)

DeviantArt (It's VERY rare I post here now. Also a warning for those under 18 - there's suggestive and nsfw art in my favorites dotted here and there so look with caution. my gallery itself is SFW however and all the works that would have been nsfw are archived.)

Artfight (Self-explanatory!)

[indigovigilance]

Baraqiel and Azazel

Disclaimer: DO NOT ask Neil Gaiman to confirm or deny any of this. He doesn't want you to ask. I don't want you to ask.

SO DON'T ASK.

Edit: Neil confirmed this theory and it's not my fault: see the reblog

Now, on with the meta.

Thesis and evidence below the cut:

Dominion...

Angel of the Sky...

Hair an eye-burning ginger, eyebrows like grisly slugs, often draped in red…

Occasionally damp...

Most likely singed…

Most likely singed…

Most likely singed…

Most likely singed…

So that's everything from purely within Good Omens canon.

Baraqiel is described, additionally, in the Book of Enoch as:

Lord of Lightning

Who taught the forbidden knowledge of astronomy:

He is also the overseer of the Second Heaven, wherein lies the prison of Fallen Angels. More on that later.

The story of Baraqiel’s ejection from Heaven is contained in the Book of Enoch, but he’s not a main character. In fact, he’s only one of twenty major fallen angels, specifically, the ninth. The tenth is Azazel.

Who, then, is Azazel?

Firstly, Azazel is a fallen angel:

Who is damned because he introduces humans to forbidden knowledge, specifically, the knowledge of swords [and other devices of warfare]:

And also the knowledge of adornment, specifically, “the art of making up the eyes, and of beautifying the eyelids, and the most precious stones, and all kinds of coloured dyes.”

And insofar as Azazel is synonymous with Azzael, he denounces the authority of the Metatron:

In fact, Azazel is given all the blame for revealing the secrets of Heaven: “​​the whole Earth has been ruined by the teaching of the works of Azazel; and against him write: ALL SIN.”

and God orders Raphael punish Azazel: “And further the Lord said to Raphael: "Bind Azazel by his hands and his feet and throw him into the darkness. And split open the desert, which is in Dudael, and throw him there.””

We never learn in the Book of Enoch that Raphael actually does this (based on my reading), but it was commanded. In fact, Raphael would have had to throw Azazel into that prison which was in the domain of Baraqiel.

This puts Baraqiel!Crowley and Azazel!Aziraphale among the ranks of angels that went to Earth and delighted in Earthly pleasures, which caused them to be “fallen,” that God refused to speak to from then on, that Enoch!Metatron was ordered by God to tell that they were unforgiven and would never be forgiven.

It’s worth noting that there seems to be some disagreement among rabbinical scholars over whether Samyaza, Azza, Azzael, and Azazel are separate entities or if these are different names for the same entity. We should also remember that in the universe of Good Omens, entities change names when they ascend to or fall from Heaven.

Tying this all back to the Metatron: In 3 Enoch, the book which describes the ascent of Enoch the man to Metatron the angel, we learn that the overseer of the Second Heaven is Baraqiel, angel of lightning. The description of the prison in the Second Heaven and the angels trapped within it is terrifying, but not more than Enoch’s own actions when he is there.

At this point Enoch has not been transfigured into the Metatron yet, but when he passes by, the angels ask him to pray for them to the Lord; and he refuses, for “who am I, a mortal man, that I may pray for angels?” He is told about them again in the Fifth Heaven, about their sins, how they followed Satan, and that they will be punished on Judgment Day.

So we have a lot of reasons here to see that there would be enmity directly between the Metatron and Azazel, for questioning his authority before God, and between Baraqiel and Enoch!Metatron, for either Baraqiel was guarding the prison or already in it when the human who would become Metatron was supplicated for prayers of redemption and refused. Either way, the Metatron is responsible for Baraqiel’s fall, most directly because he refused to take the petition of the fallen angels before God and instead relied on his interpretation of a dream.

There’s been a lot of implication and even exposition throughout S2 that memory is vulnerable to erasure. We’ve gotten some direct hints that Crowley doesn’t remember all of his past, but I would venture to propose that Aziraphale has a very troubled past that he does not remember, that the Metatron (and possibly Crowley) does, and that further, because his memory was [partially] removed, his name was changed to Aziraphale, for which we see precedent in Jimbriel and all the demons.

My absolutely unhinged, unsubstantiated S3 prediction is that Angel!Crowley sacrificed himself to rescue Azazel from damnation, and the price of Azazel remaining an angel was losing the memories of his transgressions, including (and especially) those he formed with Angel!Crowley. That at the Garden of Eden, Crawley!Crowley knew that these things had been erased, and that he was probably talking to a husk of his former friend, the way that Jim was a husk of Gabriel, but that when he learned that Aziraphale had given away the sword, realized that the soul of the person he loved was still in there.

Partner post: For a meta on why we should believe that Enoch!Metatron aka Human!Metatron is a possibility, go here.

Edit: I read the Book of Enoch from front to back, twice, but if you want to check my work (or write a response meta!) you can find the source material here and here.

If you liked this husbands-centric meta, you may like A Nightingale Sang in 1941

If you liked this historic event speculation, you may like Sodom and Gomorrah

[meanbossart]

I gotta ask this has been rattling in my brain for a while.

How did your DU drow react when Astarion asked him for help with the ritual? What were his thoughts? Or was he simply like stop it, no, we aren't doing that. OH, How did you picture your Astarion and DU Drow react after he "died" and was brought back? I know that we don't really get that much dialogue or reaction from the companions when that happens (Praying they add something later down the line in another patch)

Again thank you for sharing your beautiful art and fanfic with all of us its so refreshing to see!!! :)

OHOHOHO I'm glad you asked. I feel like that first question is very revealing of DU drow's character and It was a fun moment to ponder upon, because I think much of his behavior might lead one to believe he would be willing to go along with whatever Astarion wants, instead of pushing back at all, at least on the surface.

There's two factors at play here - first, DU drow knows of his heritage at that point, and thanks to the blank-slate treatment of the tadpole he's gotten a brand new perspective on it by the time he learns of the truth. Prior to losing his memories, accepting the fate that Bhaal had bestowed onto him felt like a choice and the best thing that ever happened to him in life, a confirmation that he was special and destined for greatness instead of just damned to the lowly existence he had endured so far. After his brain is scrambled however, DU drow got a taste of what true freedom feels like while unburdened by his upbringing; he's strong, he's powerful, he's self-sufficient, he enjoys the fruits of his labor without appreciating what got him here - he does not feel like he needs Bhaal, and the fact he ever did is laughable at best and violating at worse. This leads him to abhor the idea of depending on higher power to succeed instead of just raising oneself up by their own merits, or abiding by any mentality where you take orders from a source.

So when Astarion speaks of ascension, and especially after he learns of the source of that power (Infernal magic) he's disillusioned by it. While his memories are still hazy, the situation still feels awfully familiar to him. He doesn't think Astarion needs that higher power because he doesn't, either, and to take it would surrendering to fear and giving away even more of his autonomy than he already has.

And if that sounds a little self centered and like he's missing some of the point, it's because he is. While DU drow has fallen in love with Astarion by that stage in the story and wants what's best for him (he actually entertains the idea of him ascending up to a point - he wants him to be happy) he still has a difficult time empathizing with others. Ascending feels like a bad choice, but he can only justify that feeling from his own, narrow perspective.

(I mused on about characterization for too long again. So more under the cut - the sky is blue the sun is hot etc.)

Then there's the uglier, far more vulnerable and knee-jerk reaction to it. Now that Bhaal is no longer his purpose in life or the gift he once felt it to be, Astarion has taken it's place. Bhaal needed DU drow, in his eyes, much like Astarion does now. And as much as the vampire might have told him that his feelings on the matter changed (and that he was no longer manipulating DU drow for his own ends alone) he can't fathom a reason to be kept around unless he continues to be needed. He has slotted himself as Astarion's protector and devotee, and a vampire lord does not sound like they need much of either.

As much as he would never admit to it, DU drow does not know a life where he doesn't pledge himself, body and soul, to another purpose. He seems like he's happy to barrel through life directionless, but he needs something that anchors him or he has an inexplicable feeling that something terrible will happen. And honestly, maybe he's right - for a man who loves killing, he has a much easier time applying some strategy to that desire as long as he's doing it to some an specific end. Without Astarion, he probably feels like his choices are to either submit to his hedonism entirely or just lie down and die.

I don't need to spell out that this is pure codependency at it's finest.

So, when Astarion asks for help to complete the ritual he is conflicted. He wants to do whatever Astarion wants, but his brain is setting off alarm bells that, if he acquiesces, this will be the end for them and for him. And whatever comes after is a terrifying void of nothing. While he loves Astarion and ultimately does the right choice in pleading with him to give up on this power, his motivations are far from selfless or pure, as much as DU drow may not yet realize it.

This is why, after everything takes place, and specially once he severs his connection to Bhaal and his mind clears a little further, DU drow would go on to grapple with a lot of guilt for taking this opportunity away from Astarion, as I have touched on in the fic and will continue to do so. He's happy to feel like he has a reason to be kept around, but the inevitable hurdles that Astarion must continue to face as a spawn are obviously painful to witness. This is why he dives full force into trying to "fix" his vampirism instead, following that.

NOW, FOR THE NEXT AND HOPEFULLY FAR BRIEFER ANSWER TO YOUR OTHER QUESTION (spoiler alert, it's not brief at all, god damn it):

Yeah everyone just standing around in that scene feels little weird LOL not that it took away too much from how dope a cutscene it was (I probably watched it with the attentiveness of a sport's fan witnessing a footbal game turning in the last 10 minutes of a match) but If I were to embellish it instead of just going with something like "everyone is shell-shocked and paralyzed", I would say Shadowheart is the first to rush over to see if there's anything at all she can do to help, and probably the first (and only, in that moment) to break down crying. I think she very quickly composes herself after he's brought back, tells him he gave her the scare of a fucking lifetime and that he's the luckiest idiot in all of the realms - but that she's glad he's back. No hugs for him though LOL

Astarion is pretty much the opposite, that he would stand there in shock feels kind of apt to me. Like, holy shit, what just happened? Did one of the only good things in my life really just get taken away in the blink of an eye? Am I just cursed to have everything snatched away from my hand as soon as I'm growing comfortable with it? Yes, of course I am. What else did I expect. When DU drow pops back up he's probably like "Oh yeah I knew it'd be fine" (plus the little Twee comment, that was very funny to me.) and DU drow is similarly going "Oh definitely, it was my plan all along to be killed and then resurrected by an ominous house-keeper skeleton this whole time. Anyway, smooch for a dead man?"

This... Clearly very traumatic little incident is probably addressed by them only later. He gets a kiss and a hug at camp and a very stern "if you do that shit again I'm raising you back up just to kill you myself" from Astarion and Shadowheart's just down to drink in celebration and drown her trauma away for now lmao.

OH YEAH AND GALE WAS ALSO THERE. There was a whole Gale debacle in my playthrough but, the TL;DR, is that especially towards the end of the game he was Not in the best of terms with DU drow. Still, I obviously think he's an empathetic person and had his own "oh shit" moment. I'd say he takes this opportunity to try extending a very sincere hand out to him later that day, both for his courage in defying a god and dumb-luck - which DU drow completely passes on like an asshole and just gives him a cold-shoulder about, leaving feeling even more dejected than he already was and probably further cementing his choice to pursue the crown of Karsus later, despite DU drow's disapproval. Good job buddy!

Thank you so much for the ask and for your lovely compliments!!! Sorry for writing you a dang ESSAY 😬

[animatedjen]

What's some stuff you're really hoping to see in Jedi 3 (either narratively or gameplay wise)?

Oh I'm so glad you asked this 🙌 Because I have THOUGHTS.

Gonna put everything under the cut so this doesn't clog up the feed with a wall of text (whoops.) Some of these ideas I hope to create concept art for, after I replace/fix my very cranky thirteen-year-old tablet. Anyway let’s start with gameplay!

Gameplay!

Maintaining Cal's abilities: Survivor handled this beautifully by keeping many of the skills learned in Fallen Order, instead of undoing Cal's growth from the first game. I think it'll be trickier to keep this momentum into Jedi 3 (the skill tree has gotten so large!) but story reasons could push Cal towards new types of abilities instead of bloating the current options.

More synergy between the lightsaber stances: I like all the stances in Survivor and it'd be A) disappointing to lose any of them, but B) overwhelming to add MORE combat styles. Being able to flow between the stances more fluidly would be fun though, with specific combos unlocked depending on which two are active together. Now if Merrin lets Cal borrow her knife-staff and he puts his lightsaber on the end... MAGICK SABER PIKE GO.

New or adapted movement mechanics: Maybe the ascension cable is replaced with a force ability (Force Ascend or Force Leap for an extra vertical boost?) or is "upgraded" to connect between two anchors, letting Cal create his own temporary ziplines.

Replayable missions: This could be explained in-game with a Force Tear or Cal's own interactive echoes. But I'd love the option to experience story missions and boss fights again post-game.

Customization!

This is a bonus section because Merrin should get new outfits. Haven't decided how to make it part of gameplay yet, stay tuned.

Cal's cosmetics in Survivor are mostly cool, some just funny, but overall a huge improvement from Fallen Order (yes, even though we miss all the poncho designs). For Jedi 3 I'd love to see more story-centric cosmetics that tie into the communities and people Cal has met along his journey. A Legacy outfit (incorporating pieces from his three Jedi masters), an Anchorite-inspired outfit (with arm tattoos), a bounty hunter outfit (the prize after defeating the Brood), etc. Maybe a Bogling outfit? No not made from Boglings; it looks like a Bogling. Hang on lemme fix my tablet—

Narrative + Gameplay!

Explore Tanalorr: Right now this sparkly, strong-in-the-Force, temple-carved planet is a huge mystery box for Jedi 3. There's a few directions it could go - more High Republic history, another civilization (the Nihil? someone new?) lurking in the shadows, or Force-related secrets hiding below the surface. Each Jedi game has followed Cal's exploration of an ancient culture, and I think Tanalorr can be a focal point in that journey.

Defeat Sorc Tormo and the Haxion Brood: I mentioned this in an ask earlier this week, but I so want a resolution to this fight against the Brood. Especially since roaming bounty hunters would threaten the Hidden Path. Maybe Cal breaks back into Ordo Eris, or hunts down Sorc Tormo on another planet. Maybe there's a Force-only stealth section?? Maybe a big multi-wave boss fight? Maybe Caij is there??? (no she doesn't get an invite to Tanalorr)

Dark Side Force Slow: The fact that Cal's Force Slow ability kept its red-stained aura, even in the Survivor post-game, is great. I love lasting consequences and ludonarrative harmony, yes yes yes. Really hope this isn't fully resolved by the start of Jedi 3 (potential timeskip makes it tricky but whatever) and the ability receives some sort of healing through Cal finding his way out of the darkness.

Narrative!

Timeskip?: I vote no, but I think Jedi 3 will vote yes, likely to age up Kata and allow Tanalorr to be more developed. But that also means Cal and the Mantis Crew goes through character development without us (boo) or remains emotionally stunted until we get there (also boo?). I'm more comfortable with the five year gap between FO and Survivor than I used to be though, despite "missing out" on big character moments, so maybe it'll be okay. Maybe. 👀

The Hidden Path builds a home on Tanalorr: This works until it doesn't, whether from outside pressure or the threat of a spy within. I don't think Bode's fears should necessarily be validated, but I do think the risk will keep Cal on edge and hurt his ability to trust (both others and himself.) It'll drive decisions that strain his relationships and be a source of conflict for part of the game.

The Mantis gets semi-retired and then reinstated: I just love the mental picture of the Mantis parked somewhere cozy and decorated with cloth and lights and a hideout for Kata. It's become too small and high profile to use for gathering the Path, but when the plot gets going, they're gonna need her back in action.

Three main antagonists: The Empire, an unrelated third-party with their own goals (Nihil or someone else), and Cal's own demons. The first two drive the external conflict, the third drives Cal's inner conflict and the story's themes. More on that at the end.

A memorial garden: It's designed by Pili and filled with native Tanalorrian plants and trees, from which the Anchorites hang cords and windchimes and bits of colored glass. Cere's saber was buried beneath the largest tree. Cal plays her hallikset here when he's too troubled to meditate. If we want to be mean, this place gets damaged during a battle in Act 3. If we want to be less mean, this is the place that doesn't get damaged during a battle.

Kata has some sort of student-teacher relationship with Cal: I'm torn on her being Force sensitive: this is a story about Jedi and "guide her through the darkness" is pretty telling given Cal's own darkness at the end of Survivor. But Cal helping Kata (and Kata helping Cal) can happen regardless of her Force sensitivity - it would just look different. This is a soft answer because I'm still exploring ideas around it BUT admittedly the angst levels would be higher if she is sensitive.

A battle against the shadow self: Look this one is cliche. I don't care. I want a huge cavern in the depths of Tanalorr where Cal gets to fight a dark version of himself that switches between all his former enemies. If we're making a video game here let's physically beat up our darkness. Let's have it not work. Let's bring Cal to rock bottom to remind him that he is more than his darkness and he doesn't have to do this alone. Let's go back to that same fight later and then we finally win.

There's more to explore story-wise and I will eventually, but I'm overall not concerned about Jedi 3's narrative. Respawn has been very intentional with their writing of Cal Kestis and the Jedi series so far (despite some last minute changes to Survivor) and I love this character and this story because of all the great work they've created. I really hope they finish this journey the way they want to. That being said—

How should Jedi 3 end? Should Cal die?

No: I'll argue Cal dying at the end of the trilogy completely undermines the entire lesson of Survivor.

Cal wouldn't stop fighting the Empire: The Cal we meet at the beginning of Survivor definitely wouldn't. That Cal also watched countless friends die to that same fight and saw two different Jedi fall to their passions-turned-obsessions that led them to the dark side. He may wrestle with remnant obligation or a bitter apathy, but he's definitely not as single-minded as he was before.

Cal would sacrifice himself to save the Path: Yeah, he probably would. Cere did exactly that during the Siege of Jedha when all else failed. But maybe the Path could be protected without Cal needing to be a Weapon - a lesson Cere also wanted him to learn.

Another way: I think the Koboh abyss (that separates Tanalorr from the rest of the galaxy) could be destroyed. I don't know if Cal would choose to destroy it, but I think the Empire would: if they can't reach Tanalorr it's the next best thing.

Now Cal has to make a choice: Leave (continuing the fight alone) or Stay (shepherding the Path for an unknown future.) It doesn't mean they never find a way back to the known galaxy, but it'll take time. Enough time for a New Hope to appear.

Whatever your opinion of the Sequel Trilogy, the line: "That’s how we’re gonna win. Not fighting what we hate. Saving what we love." is not only a complete thesis of Star Wars, but fits really well with Cal's journey. He's become very good at fighting. He wants to save everyone in Fallen Order, and he can't. He still wants to save everyone in Survivor, and they refuse him. His Fight has made a difference (again, Cere says as much) but it's clear this can't be Cal's final answer.

Choosing to protect the Path, choosing to trust the Force, choosing a home. That's what he's been fighting for. I love Cal Kestis because he isn't the chosen one and he isn't going to save the galaxy. But for his family and his community, he saved their galaxy. It's cheesy but I don't care, and you know Greez and BD would agree with me.

-

Okay this got so, so much longer than I expected. Bonus points if you made it all the way down here haha. I've had a weird assortment of concepts and ideas over the past year but never wrote them down in one place - until now. I've said it before but part of my hyperfixation with the Jedi series is because it isn't finished yet and Survivor ends on such a gut-wrenching cliffhanger. Whatever happens to this series, I'm slowly finding some sort of catharsis through all the edits and photomode shots and half-baked concepts. Thanks for tagging along ✌️

[pinktom]

What do you think pink about tomarry content creators getting abusive tomione asks suddenly? First obsidian, then I saw one more account getting and now seminar arts. Is it only one person doing all this?

Btw my jaw dropped with your no filter answer where you said that whenever harry comes the chemistry between to marry best tomione 🤣. I would love to hear more of your no filter thoughts

I have no doubt those asks were sent by trolls. I, however, am simply a hater—I see an opportunity to hate, justified or not, I pounce. x]

In ascending order, here are the reasons I think Tomione sucks.

PS: If you know this post is gonna piss you off and press "Keep Reading" anyway - that is entirely on you. Send me anon hate and I'll assume you're a masochist who wants me to spank your pert, round hinie and call you a naughty, naughty girl.

“Book nerd loves book nerd uwu” trope does not fit Tom Riddle, and I find it obnoxious.

Like I touched on when I was first sipping on that haterade, Tom Riddle values usefulness. By this logic, you could easily contrive up a scenario in which he wants to use Hermione’s skills for whatever reason. 

However, the route that is usually taken in Tomione is that Tom is … impressed … by her intellect. A woman… who is… smart? He’s intrigued. 😏 He’s never once met a smart woman in his life before. And certainly not one so independent and feisty. She doesn’t swoon over him like the other girls do (eye roll).

I never got the impression anywhere in canon that Tom Riddle cared much about intellectual pursuits beyond those which were immediately useful to his goals, so for the very basis of a relationship to be his interest in her brains – to me, it’s tedious and off-base.

And also icky honestly lkjdflkj. Hermione’s two crushes are on a couple of stinky smelly boys (Krum, Ron), where the hell do you go off acting like she wants some mysterious, twisted dark boy? I’m offended. 

Absolutely zero chemistry; once Harry steps in, it’s game over

Because these characters lack any common ground, shared values, or compelling circumstances that tether them together, there is zero chemistry. You can try to fabricate those things with a little bit of crack!cocaine, but then you’re forced to contrive a lot of additional personality traits and circumstances that diverge them from their canon selves. (Which yes, you can do, but it only works if you’re gonna do something really interesting.)

As much as people like to har har about how canon doesn’t matter, here’s the truth: yes, it does. Our communities only exist because we’re referencing shared source material. However much you can bend characters around, everyone knows each character has an essence that just “feels like them” on a deeper human level. 

As such, we all know Tom Riddle and Harry Potter are intrinsically connected to each other. In Tomione this presents a conundrum. I could cite dozens of fics, but I’ll stick to two very well-written ones I enjoyed.

In one of them, Tom was a criminal and Harry was a detective on his tail; no matter how many times Tom fingered Hermione, he was always more entangled with Harry, because the stakes and intensity between them were so much grander. Same thing with the other fic but amplified by the Horcrux bond. At their very first encounter, when Tom and Harry laid eyes on each other, they both immediately felt an arresting connection, with distrust and intrigue. Hermione instantly paled in comparison in both stories.

It’s just like the moment Harry steps into the frame, you see how transparent and superficial the “commonalities” between Tom and Hermione ever are. Books and cleverness - oh but Harry, there are more important things! Like being spiritually linked! And sharing unique and intimate traumas in common! 

Heterosexual Tom is truly disgusting to read about

Look–it’s a matter of taste. We’re all products of our environments. For me, no amount of feminism or fantasy can overrule everything I’ve seen and experienced in my life. ( ಠ_ಠ )

I don’t enjoy reading about women in relationships with men who are controlling, violent, and selfish. Even the way Voldemort treats Bellatrix in canon always makes me wince, because I see it like this … here’s this girl who grew up proud; who was beautiful, rich, extremely gifted and powerful; and she turns into this horrible sniveling creature. Say it ain't so! I wish she'd killed him when he broke her ass out of Azkaban.

But back on the topic of Tomione specifically — I think there’s another layer to it, which is the greasy self-insertion aspect which makes me uncomfortably aware of how much the author’s ginie is tingling at the idea of Tom Riddle lifting a brow and saying, “Is that so, Miss Granger?” while she scowls and tells him to fuck off !!!

It’s of course not the self-insertion in itself that’s icky. It’s more just that the type of person who wants to self-insert into that particular heterosexual scenario is, uhh, too basic for me and my big powerful fujo brain.

And I guess that's gets me to the very core of why I find Tomione basic, trifling, and underwhelming. 

Tom Riddle is allowed no faults whatsoever in Tomione

Oh, sure. He’s controlling. He’s mean. He grabs her wrist and says, “What were you doing talking to Malfoy?” 😠

But so... ? Tom Riddle is a deeply embarrassing, mentally unwell trainwreck of a person. He's so much grosser than that. Yet you do not get that feeling at all in most Tomione fics. His worst character traits are often there but they’re made to seem sexy and flattering at all times.

I’m not saying your run-of-the-mill Tomarry fic doesn’t suffer this fatal flaw too—but when it comes down to it, Tomione doesn’t allow for his unsexy fallibility, period. Because the sexiness of the ship really depends on heteronormative romantic tropes and fantasies, which tend to be quite rigid and narrow. 

And I understand and empathize with why this is; just look at Reddit, so many women in heterosexual relationships already must put up with mortifying, embarrassing, and unhygienic things (y’all know which posts I mean 🙁). 

That’s just not what I’m here for. I love Tom Riddle because he’s a superficial narcissistic lunatic with no self-awareness and emotionally stunted outlook.

I don’t want to hear how he terrified the orphans if I’m not gonna hear about how he pissed the bed and got his bare ass whipped by a mean, toothless matron for chatting in sermon. I don’t care to see him bossing around those wimps at Hogwarts if there’s not at least one student who looks at “ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE” written in blood and feels tummy-churning secondhand embarrassment.

[noctvrnal9999]

Ascended Astarion, Cazador Szarr and how they are NOT alike (at all)

Some of you probably saw this coming already, that I would go out of my way to talk about the whole "Ascended Astarion is Cazador 2.0" thing because it's such a ridiculous notion. Here it is, my personal take on why I disagree.

First and foremost I will address the whole: "Oh my GOD Astarion follows the Four Rules right from the beginning!" mindset. Here they are, the rules as Vellioth passed them down onto Cazador:

First, thou shalt not drink of the blood of thinking creatures.

Second, thou shalt obey me in all things.

Third, thou shalt not leave my side unless directed.

Four, thou shalt know that thou art mine.

Rule one is pretty obvious - don't drink blood of thinking creatures. That's one of the tools Cazador used to keep his Spawn subservient and demoralized. We don't get any in-game information that Cazador went back on this rule in any instance whatsoever, seems it was very much set in stone for him. Ascended Astarion (which I will shorthand to AA from this point on) breaks this rule the moment he Ascends with his Blood Bride/Groom. Not only he gives player character his blood (willingly, I will mention), he speaks also about drinking PC's blood and they drinking his:

Already breaking the very first rule he himself had to obey for two centuries. And in-game mechanics support this of course, PC can use Bite action on anyone who is not classified as undead (like Astarion, for example, PC can freely chomp on him if they wish so).

Rule two is also obvious - Cazador compelled his Spawn through his bond as their master. That is evident in the scene where Astarion's siblings attack the camp:

They have no choice but to obey Cazador's command even if they struggle. The only reason Astarion is free because of the tadpole. We could apply same logic to Bride/Groom PC, that Astarion cannot compel PC only because of the tadpole. However, PC can ask Astarion about this:

To which he replies:

The implication here is that he thinks he can compel PC but he's choosing not to. Now, whenever you subscribe to the theory I presented before that he can't compel PC and is lying or not, it's up to you, but if we're taking this line at face-value only it's very very clear - AA is not going to compel PC, to him it's a ridiculous idea (Why would I need to?). He trusts that PC and him are on the same page (and personally I read the second part of his sentence as being cheeky, but maybe that's just me.)

Rule three, just like first two, is simple and easy to understand - don't leave your "master" unless directed. Cazador sent out his Spawn to lure victims for two hundred years, however, Astarion, if we believe he can compel PC, is not even attempting to make PC stay by his side (or send them away, for that matter). All he says is this:

And this is in conversation about not being able to walk in the sun, which is about his newfound powers being extended to PC. Nothing in any dialogues (that I can remember) suggests that he commands PC to stay by his side. The only such dialogue option appears in the epilogue (keep in mind that epilogue was added later) and if you legitimately argue with AA (I would never do it but there's some crazies out there, stay safe xoxo) but to be completely honest you can ask for your freedom:

To which he replies:

Even if we take this as "daunting" as some people portray it to be, we still see AA acting more like a brat-tamer than a cruel master Cazador has been. Try putting these lines into Cazador's mouth and tell me they work lol.

Rule four is self explanatory. And this one we can definitely apply to AA. From the moment of Ascension he insists confirming to PC that well, they are his, but he also emphasizes that he is theirs in turn (if blood drinking line is anything to go by). Vampires by nature are possessive, it makes sense that AA feels the need to speak about it. PC is the only person he ever loved, now he's expressing that love, albeit maybe a tad intensively (according to some).

But on the flip side, where AA can be seen as possessive as Cazador, AA does 180 and shares his power and status with PC. There's an incredible amount of lines in the game where he speaks about being equals, sharing power and standing side by side, unlike Cazador.

And these are just couple from same conversation, there's so many more, but pay close attention how many times he says "we" or "you and me". PC is not just a spawn to him, not someone to be controlled but a true equal, sharing power, wealth and goals.

Which leads me to another point that needs addressing and emphasizing - AA is still a vampire, just like Cazador. Yes, these two creatures are power-hungry, that's in their nature, in any vampire's nature. I'll draw attention to the fact that even as a Spawn, Astarion is hungry for power and freedom. Once he has freedom, his goal still remains power. While Cazador's goal was to become Ascendant, AA's is well, world domination, basically. He surely has the time if not power to try and achieve that. However, this doesn't make him "just like" his former master, it just makes him a vampire.

And let's not forget that even before becoming a vampire Astarion was already power-hungry, which is clear from his choice of career as a Magistrate. Albeit a far shout from world domination, he still sought positions of power even while alive.

So to summarize before this becomes too lengthy - AA is simply a vampire. Not a reflection of his former master. They share some traits because they belong to same caste by the end of Astarion's personal quest, but that doesn't make him any more similar to Cazador than any other Vampire Lord or even Strahd.

Simply put - AA is a monster. Vampires are classified as monsters and they are Lawfully Evil aligned in DnD. Just because he has unpleasant traits, it doesn't mean he took them from Cazador. It just means that he has unpleasant traits. Make the man accountable for his own flaws (or just generic vampire traits), after all, as Ascendant, I'm sure he take it :)

[just-prime]

Tales of Squandered Potential

Oh hello again everyone who follows me for my Star Wars ranting!

So! Tales of the Empire. The Hat Man is at it again.

Episodes 1-3 : The Path of Boredom

As expected, all of the Morgan stuff was not my thing. She was boring in Ahsoka, she was boring here. The entirety of the three episodes just hammered home "this lady is angry" in a way that felt overdone because there is no arc. There's no growth, no interest, no nothing. It all just feels like Filoni trying to retroactively make his one dimensional character that gets killed off in the stupidest way possible feel super badass. However because we know that she gets killed in the stupidest way possible, everything falls flat and none of it feels earned. It also doesn't actually answer any of the many many questions that Ahsoka raised about her. She's just there, standing in front of a fire. That's all she does.

Thrawn is there for all of about two seconds, and every moment of it is painful, because here's the thing. WE KNOW WHAT THRAWN WAS UP TO AT THIS TIME!!! We have the book that explains all of Thrawn's many exploits as an admiral. This is only more evidence for the idea that Filoni has never actually picked up any of the canon Thrawn books. Which we kinda already knew, but this is all but confirmation. As I've previously said, and will continue saying, Filoni needs to contextualize Thrawn as a 100% big bad otherwise his Heir to the Empire fanfilm won't actually feel earned, so he is systematically destroying any and all nuance that Thrawn has had to make sure that new viewers only ever see him as an unredeemable evil.

And I know that there are a lot of you out there who are holding out for the possibility that this is all a misdirect by Thrawn! That this is all part of his grand plan to go back and help the Ascendency, and that he's lying to everyone about his intentions. But the sad truth is that Filoni doesn't give a rats ass about anything other than cartoonishly evil Thrawn which means we're never getting Eli, or Karyn, or Hammerly or any of the characters from the six fantastic canon books that Timothy Zahn so lovingly created. That was made very clear with Filoni's prioritization of Admiral Pellaeon, who for those who don't know is actually in the new canon Thrawn books too! He wasn't just left behind in Legends, Zahn brought him back into canon too! But again, being the Legends fanboy that he is, Filoni doesn't care about where Pellaeon should be canonically, so instead he's just shoehorned into the episode for no other reason then Filoni likes him.

Episodes 4-6 : The Barriss Content

Soooooo, why didn't Barriss get a full fucking season to herself??? I get the idea behind the 15 minute episodes, but it really makes it hard to tell any sort of cohesive story. It works far better as a snapshot of a couple of days in someone's life. So unfortunately, while I did enjoy them, Barriss's episodes felt really rushed and I found it really hard to tell when things took place. How long was she at the Inquisitor training center? Was it a day? Was it a month? Really would have been interested in actually seeing the inner workings but it all has to get brushed over in favor of her becoming an Inquisitor. A seemingly intentionally not named Inquisitor which makes me feel like they've run out of early Inquisitor names. Unless there's a trial period before you get a proper number? I don't know it was just one of those things that niggled at me. Another thing that niggled at me (which was also mentioned by the wonderful artist @stealingpotatoes, go give her art some love) is that her design is kinda boring as fuck? Like, you have Birdy-Mc-Skullface right there with such a neat design and yet all Barriss gets is a motorcycle helmet with very slight voice modulation.

But I digress. The fact that Barriss commits herself to the Inquisitorium via a ritualized fight to the death, and then goes "wait, the red light saber wielding, all black wearing, Darth Vader serving inquisitors aren't here to help people?" before immediately bailing is so funny to me. This girl cannot for the life of her commit herself to an organization without becoming disillusioned within 1-3 business days.

I'm not sure how I feel about it all being about Lyn? I was very much rooting for her to totally die in the ice shafts instead of what felt like a very last minute redemption arc?

Though speaking of the last episode...HOLY SHIT OLD BARRISS IS FUCKING HOT. *coughs* Excuse me. Anyway. I would have loved to see more of what happened in between eps 5 and 6. Seeing how she and the jedi kid escaped the planet, and where the two of them did after than in the very hostile Empire would have been a facinating story watch play out. Also, who is this female friend that Barriss is referring to when she sends the child away? Is it Ahsoka??? If it is...WHY WOULD YOU NOT SHOW US THAT REUNION??? Like I get the whole point of this is to set up Barriss to make the jump to live action like every single other Filoni character is curseddestined to do, but also you've had people waiting years to find out what happened to Barriss and it feels like they burned their biggest story possibility on a throwaway reference. Did she find Ahsoka? Did Ahsoka find her? When did they find each other? Was it pre-Rebellion? Was it after Ahsoka was already functioning as Fulcrum? Given that we now know the Fulcrum name originated from Anakin, did Barriss recognize the name and seek this mystery person out? I don't know it just feels again like more wasted potential.

Final Thoughts

Fuck this animation is good now! Can we get a new writer?

Like, even for the shit I was annoyed by, the entire show just looks fabulous. It makes me really really wish that ANYONE other than Filoni could make content in this style. Let the writers of Jedi: Fallen Order and Survivor do a Merrin episode or a baby Cal episode. Or the people doing The Acolyte, let them do Tales of the High Republic! Let anyone other than Filoni have a chance to create within the world of Star Wars animated content.

[animentality]

It's tough because I hate the Astarion haters on Reddit, who are just misogynistic and homophobic and dismissive of the character because they hate how gay he acts and also how many women love him.

but I also hate BookTok Astarion fangirls who feel the need to assert how superior Astarion is on every fucking Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Shadowheart, Minthara, Lae'zel, Karlach or pretty much any BG3 video at all. Like we get it. He's white.

And then I'm ambivalent on the Tumblr Astarion fans because there are the people who simply like him and make fun art and fun meta analysis about him, and then there are the people in my inbox currently telling me that Astarion's Ascended ending is morally correct and it's not a bad ending for the character, and if I disagree, then I hate women.

You're correct that I hate women, but it has nothing to do with Astarion.

Also, I once again point out, that your own husbando literally tells you outright in both endings that being Ascended ruins/ruined who he used to be and also your love for one another.

Your man literally says that your love would have been corrupted by becoming his spawn, and you still cling to the idea that your character is living happily ever after.

He's not making you a vampire queen, he's making you a vampire pet. And it's fine to like that ending. I don't care if you LIKE bad, unhappy endings. That is your prerogative. But you are simply incorrect if you say that it's the "happy" ending for the character, when it clearly is not.

No one ever said you had to use your skull for anything other than cold cut storage, I just don't see why it's even necessary to argue your point to me.

Stay in your Astarion echo chamber, and block me. I don't have time or energy to block all of you.

Anyway.

It sucks because I really like Astarion, he's my favorite love interest.

I really enjoy his storyline and his growth as a person and how sweet he is. He's also very funny. All the companions have great voice acting behind them, but Neil really knocked it out of the park, and I honestly think the character would be far less popular if they'd picked any other actor.

But the fandom around him is just...awful.

It's a mixed bag of normal, unnormal in a fun way, and unnormal in a "you need to fucking step off in this Walmart bitch" way.

It's why I'd rather interact with Dark Urge and Gortash fans.

Much smaller subset of the fandom, so I don't have to deal with the generic crazies, and we're all such freaks that we don't feel the need to go around acting like Gortash is a good person.

I also only ever see people saying these two are fucking disgusting and horrible and I'd murder them in real life and honestly, true and based.

No happy endings for those two, and that's fine for me. In fact, it's great.

See, Astarion girlies, this is called...knowing your ship doesn't deserve a happy ending after all they have done, and knowing it wouldn't be a happy ending if they got together, but being able to acknowledge that and not get bent out of shape trying to justify it.

Stop tying your irl morality to your tastes in fiction.

I never said that liking the ascended ending made you a bad person in real life.

I just said that pretending it's good and happy and great and not continuing the cycle of abuse, is factually incorrect.

And it is.

Every single bad ending for all the love interests is literally continuing the cycle of abuse. Why would Astarion's be any different?

But maybe I'm being bold in assuming you even know the other love interests exist or have stories. Maybe you don't even know the general story of baldur's gate 3, because it is, as you say, the vampire dating sim, and it's definitely not about anything other than banging the sexy vampire.

Media literacy weeps.

Anyway.

Not ruining my enjoyment of the game.

Just my general tolerance for the fandom that is not Durge and Gortash obsessed.

[y-rhywbeth2]

FR legal nonsense continues to turn in my brain, so I'm still musing over Astarion's legal career. It would be interesting to learn about Astarion's pre-Cazador life, because it sounds like I would kill him with my bare hands - do tell me about your days as an Ace Attorney villain, Saer Ancunín.

I don't think he's ever been "innocent" or good, although I also think he would disagree. What little we see of his law career suggests to me that he had his own strong ideas of right and wrong; he scoffed at mercy and softness, and believed that wrong should be punished hard. Possibly lethally. To "discourage the next vagrant". Obviously, there are "good people" and "bad people", and some individuals (including entire cultures) are in the latter category.

(I'm aware of the original early concept thing where he was selling people to vampires, but I'm working on the assumption that got dropped and no longer applies.)

Considering that Astarion still voices some of these opinions 200 years later, even if he's now decided all laws and morals are bullshit (bad things are wrong only when they happen to him now), and he carries them into his endings... It's interesting to me that once he's fully free of Cazador and has had time to sort his mind out, the former hanging judge starts bounty hunting and eating criminals. (I'm not passing judgement on that, I just find the link interesting) Ascended Astarion would be an absolute nightmare to work with; carrying that black-and-white draconian approach to punishment with everything Cazador's taught him about the art of abusing people...

He was most likely still a fun-loving little gremlin back then, but he also had one hell of a lawful evil/neutral mindset. He might've been - and quite possibly was - corrupt and open to bribes and such, but at the very least he seems to have had "standards", and I get the impression he felt he had a duty to see that "proper" society was safeguarded from what he and his friends considered the "wrong sorts".

Plus his being a terrible person, then becoming a victim and becoming a different flavour of terrible person (who still doesn't "deserve" abuse) makes him more appealing to me as a character.

I'd love to put his brain in a jar and shake it.

[kasarasun]

Hi! I loved your Illustrator Shen Yuan au and wanted to know if you had more ideas for it? I feel it makes a lot of sense especially with SY’s ability to recognize literally every plant, animal, and character that showed up in the novel instantly and Qing Jing being the peak of the four arts. Also, if he played a major role in editing the wiki, do you think any of his written headcannons or speculations may have come true? Do you think he and airplane ever just use his art style to distinguish cannon fodder from the rest or do they still follow the rules of his art style despite him having never drawn them? If the first then him meeting Tianlang-jun and ZZL would be hilarious cuz he may just brush them off. Also, how does this go with Liu Qingge’s character design being different than imagined (pretty instead of burly)? How do you think this would play into a post cannon reveal? Are there any other common or uncommon hc’s in the fandom that you would combine with this?

Thanks!

going backwards with your questions: (this will be long, forgive spelling, etc, errors)

Headcanons: this is already the product of multiple headcanons! For one, SQH is solidified as the author instead of a prophet, because SY as the artist means that the world is malleable, to a degree. Also I believe in black-haired Mobei-Jun (irrelevant haha). I also would say the hc where if Shang Qinghua 'writes' something with enough intent, it might just happen.

Also, the 'world' being made of paper and so is from someone/somewhere but i forgot. Sorry ahahaha

I think this makes SY and SQH both paper/creation gods. (Discussed further later on in this mess.)

Tianlang-Jun, Zhuzhi-Lang, and Liu Qingge: The thing is, the 'design' applies to mobei Jun because SY has explicitly drawn him. Binghe's 'design' is same the PIDW official art's because this is only physically, (the contours of a creature's skull rather than binghe's nail polish) because they're real people and persons, which is an important theme that breaks character designs that include distinctive clothing. Also because of this realized state, nothing can be more real than anything else. Through the lens of a reader, we might imagine the 'world' being this collage of the artist, but this isn't the case.

That brings me to my next point: what of the world that hasn't been 'illustrated'? Of course, we can have a creation myth instead of an actual explanation:

The God who brings ascension from nothingness carves the mountains, shapes the moon, culls the suns, and folds the paper beasts, men, and flowers. The God whose palms raise all things into the light so creates the three realms. The God creates and creates and creates.

The God who witnesses watches the creations grow simpler, watches creases deteriorate, watches rushed work. The God who witnesses sees the God who arises with the world in hand grow tired. The God who witnesses paints the paper cranes, refolds the rushed creations, and refines the creases. (The God who watches paints over a tear in a silver leaf. The God leaves the gold leaf be.)

The God who paints the birds and beasts never folds the fresh paper. So concludes the creation of all and every.

(Where the silver leaf of paper is mobei-jun and the golden one is binghe.)

Shen Yuan's headcanons: of course, Airplane is the writer. He takes precedence. His headcanons only applied to his 'domain', and his 'power' only exists in the origin world (though this may change as the idea develops), and draws power from Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky's work. His role is lessening the burden, but the work has already been done.

On postcanon reveals: Shang Qinghua totally gets caught first. Actually, it's the airplane extra with the 'daddy admires you' scenes! He is forces to explain, and along the way he kicks SQQ under the bus. I won't say too much on how this spreads, but probably Mobei saying something to someone. Maybe he calls Qinghua the heavenly emperor/ the ascender in front of all the peaklords. An Ding probably already knows.

why the ascender? Airplane translates literally into flying machine. So, warp that into ascension and omnipresence. Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky ascends reality from nothing (darkness) to something (sunlight). This applies to everything, so it is comparable to a system or machine. Behold, the really irrelevant, misplaced, and overly subtle Rain World reference.

The God who Paints the birds and Beasts from Drawing the Beast's Ire warps the Ire into attention, and then Airplane's protagonist and his cool monsters drew his attention, then the poor writing his ire.

Meanwhile, Shen Qingqiu is only minorly accosted by peak lords. The problem is binghe, upset that Shizun was drawing other people. Drawing the Beast's Ire drew like 2 other characters. One is Mobei-Jun. The other is a modern-clothing binghe. He's also upset that Shang-shishu and Shizun share something as grand as the creation of the world together, and the fact that SQQ is the lesser. Additionally, unlike Mobei-Jun, he wasn't made specifically to please his God! Unfair!

Of course, binghe is very happy about this as well. He's Shizun's favorite character!

This might be high time to mention more headcanons: there are temples and shrines dedicated to airplane and occasionally the witness/the painter in the endless Abyss. This is due to the first heavenly demons, probably. How else did Xin Mo get there?

Anyway, they'd be like airplane folding paper front and center and then the painter doing his thing off to the side. Of course, there are a decent amount dedicated only to the painter.

On additional creations: Maybe Shen Qingqiu/Yuan and Shang Qinghua get together and make OC animals. They're all entirely harmless. Shang Qinghua writes their names, their abilities, and a nice good description while Shen Qingqiu/Yuan paints. Maybe it doesn't do anything. Maybe it does. It's a change of pace either way.

[bitethedevil]

More Than Our Fathers (Raphael x Demigod!Reader): Chapter 1

Chapter: one

Read this on AO3

Summary: It was in the years after the Fall of Netheril that fate decided to push the two of you together: the daughter of the God of Divination and the son of the Archdevil of the Eighth. An unlikely pair, but you learned throughout the years that you had more in common than you thought: you were both driven by ambition and you both longed to become more than what your fathers made you.

Word count: 4,968

(Notes: Note that the Reader is named. Her (your) name is Sibylla. I just need to name my characters, I can't even explain it. It literally just means 'Prophetess', if that helps. There is a lot of lore in this one and you can see me explain more in depth on AO3 if you care about it. I'm so excited for this one. For once, I've actually got everything planned instead of my usual 'fuck it we ball' attitude to fics. This chapter is essentially the backstory of their relationship. The majority of the plot will take place from the time of the BG3 canon events. We just have to speed through 1600 years of backstory before that lol)

You were the daughter of a mortal woman and the god Savras. Your father had many titles: Savras the All-Seeing, the Lord of Divination, He of the Third Eye. Once a mortal wizard with an exceptional talent for the art of divination, Savras ascended and became the god of wizards.

You were blessed to have been old enough to remember your father’s greatness and cursed to live long enough to see his fall.

Savras the All-Seeing had been challenged by the powerful mortal wizard, Azuth, and lost. Azuth rose to power as your father fell. It is said that he lost on purpose because he saw something in his visions that was yet to happen. It was a decision that many of his faithful worshippers said demonstrated the wisdom and insight of their god. Wisdom and insight, they called it…You called it docility and wasted potential.

Azuth imprisoned your father in a magical artifact that would later be known as the Scepter of Savras, in the hopes that he could harness Savras’ powers and use them for himself. The scepter disappeared before Azuth’s plan could come to fruition. More than a thousand years after the imprisonment of Savras, the scepter was found and Azuth agreed to release him if he swore a pledge of fealty to him. Savras accepted.

Unfortunately, the scepter displaced itself immediately after Savras’s release, taking with it the majority of his divine powers. Once again, the Scepter of Savras had disappeared and it continues to be lost, constantly moving, with only a chosen of Savras or someone with a touch of the divine being able to wield it. Someone like you.

After his fall, Savras went from being the god of wizards, to the god of divination. He became little more than Mystra and Azuth’s lapdog. A mere shadow of his former glory. You had never been close with your father, but his downfall made him a disappointment to you. After he fell, you felt ashamed to be related to someone as foolish as him. He had wasted his potential.

A potential that you would happily exploit yourself, should you ever get your hands on the Scepter of Savras and claim your father’s old powers…

You were born with an innate gift for divination magic. It made you a sorcerer by technicality, though you would eventually study and become a powerful wizard as well, following in your father’s footsteps. Sorcerers were widely looked down upon by the wizards that made up for most of the population of the city you were born in, though you had been a special case because your father was still the god of wizards at the time.  

Your powers allowed you glimpses into the future. Your visions were quite random, though they became clearer with age, and you had found a way to strengthen them: by physical touch. When touching another person’s skin, you were able to look at the threads of fate and time that bound them: their past, their present, their future. You only needed to know what to look for.

You were born in the kingdom of Halruaa. It was the same place your father had once lived before he ascended and became a god. It was a land of magic in the southern part of Faerûn. The magocracy of Halruaa had once been created by Archwizards who had foreseen the fall of Netheril and fled the empire.

You yourself had been born a few hundred years after Netheril’s Fall, but you vividly remembered the stories of Karsus’s Folly that were told to you by some of the old Netherese refugees. It was because of one of those survivors that your own threads of fate were to be bound to Raphael’s.

It was about 250 years after Karsus’s Folly and some hundred years before your father would fall to Azuth in battle. You were at the very beginning of your immortal life. Your mother had died when you were just a child. A 500-year-old wizard by the name Melesmer had taken you in and he became like a grandfather to you. You looked up to him, listened to his endless reminiscing about Netheril and clung to every piece of wisdom he bestowed upon you.

Melesmer was most likely the last person alive to give first-person accounts of the old empire at that point, but he was also at the end of his time. Old age was starting to eat at him despite the magic that had slowed his aging. When you were only twenty, you had seen him die peacefully in his bed in one of your visions. You knew you only had a year or two left with him, but you did not have the heart to tell him that.

Melesmer spoke Halruaan like you, but the more his old age started to eat at his memory, the more he started rambling to himself in Netherese. Sometimes it seemed as if he had completely forgotten everything around him and found himself back in Netheril. You had learned just enough of the Netherese language to understand what he was saying over and over again:

“They are screaming and crying…” he would mumble in Netherese while his eyes looked empty. “The children. They are under the rubble. Our children…”

You had one day come home from the market and you heard the sounds of talking coming from inside the house. There was nothing odd about that in itself. You were used to young apprentice wizards visiting Melesmer every now and again. They would often be seeking out the old wizard’s wisdom or wanting to listen to the stories he told of the old empire.

What made you stop in your tracks, was the fact that they were speaking in the common tongue. Melesmer never managed to adopt the same skepticism towards foreigners that was commonplace for the born and bred Halruaans who feared that outsiders would come and steal their magical secrets.

You put down what you had in your hands to go and see who this foreigner was that was visiting.

You entered the room and the man in front of Melesmer looked up at you briefly. The man looked young, around twenty like yourself. He had brown hair, brown eyes and was dressed in expensive Halruaan silks, no doubt in an attempt to fit in with the local customs. The young man gave you a brief polite smile before turning his attention back on Melesmer.

There was something odd about the stranger and you felt it immediately. You put your hand on Melesmer’s shoulder, to interrupt his talking and ask him about his guest.

“Grandfather,” You greeted in Halruaan and then nodded to the stranger. “Who is this man that you are talking to?”

“Sibylla, dearest,” Melesmer answered in Halruaan. “This man has travelled far to hear about the fall of Netheril and Netherese magic.”

“Raphael,” Melesmer said in the common tongue, addressing the stranger. “This is my ward, my pride, Sibylla. She is the greatest seer in Halruaa there have been since her father became a god and left the city all those years ago.”

“Grandfather,” You said sternly, warning him not to speak any more of it in front of this stranger.

“Is that so?” Raphael asked. His eyes had lit up by what Melesmer had said, and his smile widened. He got to his feet and walked closer to you.

“I swear it,” Melesmer said, the old man’s voice full of pride and his soft features turned into a bright smile.

“What an honor,” Raphael said and took your hand. “It’s not every day that one meets the daughter of a god.”

Raphael looked you in the eyes and placed a kiss on your hand.

You took the opportunity of the touch to figure out who he was and what he wanted.

When Raphael touched you, a vision flashed behind your eyes, and you saw what he really was. You withdrew your hand from him immediately, as if you had been burned.

“Leave,” you hissed at him. Magic was crackling around your fingertips in warning.

Raphael smirked at your realization.

“Grandfather, this man is a devil. This vermin is taking you for an old fool,” you said to Melesmer while not taking your eyes of Raphael for a second. “He is a son of Mephistopheles himself.”

By his reaction, Raphael seemed to at least know the Halruaan word for ‘devil’, and his smug expression faltered slightly at hearing his father’s name. Melesmer blinked in confusion and looked at Raphael.

“It is quite rude to talk over one’s guests. Especially in another language. My Halruaan is rather unpracticed these days, so I will simply assume that whatever you said was a compliment,” Raphael said smoothly with a tight-lipped smile and narrowed eyes. “I am not here to harm anyone…I am merely seeking information.”

“You’re seeking the Crown of Karsus,” you said to him.

Raphael looked genuinely taken aback for a second, but quickly returned to his smug self.

“I am…” he said.

“Your father has it in his vault where it will stay for at least a thousand years more,” you said coldly. “You’ve got more than what you came for, cambion. Leave.”

He looked at the ground as if in thought for a moment and a flash of fury washed over his face, though you got the sense that his anger was not pointed at you. His fists clenched and his eye twitched slightly before he looked up at you one last time.

That look sent another vision through you, this time manifested through a feeling: familiarity. This would not be the last time you saw him.

“Thank you…” Raphael grumbled and then snapped his fingers. He disappeared in a flash of smoke and embers.

You would not see each other again for another couple of hundred years, but ever since that day the devil was keeping an eye on you.

You changed a lot as you grew older. After your father’s fall, you completely discarded his teachings and dogma. You were not supposed to use your sight to further the goals of others or to meddle with fate, and you were also supposed to only ever tell the truth of your visions. You threw it all away and started your new life, cutting the already fragile and barely-there bond to Savras.

You had long since left Halruaa behind. Your services became well sought after and your reputation as a powerful seeress quickly spread throughout Faerûn. Your reputation often proceeded you whenever you arrived in a new city, and you rarely ever had to seek out your clients yourself.

You whispered in the ears of dukes, emperors, and kings, ensuring their rise or their downfall, depending on how you felt about them and how they could further your goals or fill your gold purse. It came with enormous power. A few whispers in the right ears could mean the rise to power for one person, while hiding parts of the truth could make another walk carelessly into their own doom.

Even though you were a savior to some and a villain to others, it never changed how many wanted your help. Your luck was that dead clients usually could not complain about your services and if anyone dared to question how your earlier clients met their demise, you would simply tell them that they did not heed your warnings.

You quickly became well-known and your recognizable features, that spread both awe as well as fear amongst the smallfolk, worked to your advantage. You had the silver hair and ghostly pale eyes of your father.

The widespread myth about you went that your ghostly appearance was caused by you looking into the future and seeing something that terrified you so much that your eyes and hair lost their color. What you had ‘seen’ varied depending on the region you were in, you noticed. Some say you had seen your own death, some the end of the world, while others had a whole third wilder theory. You never had it in you to tell them you were simply born that way.

It pleased you to no longer be known as Sibylla, the daughter of Savras. You were simply Sibylla the Seeress, now. Your own person and removed from your father, who you hoped would be forgotten to time eventually.

It was in the then young city of Athkatla in Amn, that you would run into Raphael again, a few hundred years after your first meeting. Your client in the city was amongst one of the city’s most powerful men. A rich merchant by the name of Bernard Barth.

Barth was an old and greedy man who had grown paranoid in his last days. He was certain that the younger rising star amongst the city tradesmen, Garrick Mordell, was out to steal his place amongst the nobility of the city.

Barth was an excruciatingly frustrating client. He was a loud, opinionated, and stubborn man. His son, who would one day take over his father’s business, was even worse. They were the perfect image of the overindulgent upper class. It was so clear that they had never had to struggle a day in their life, and it irked you, but the Barth family’s generous payment for your services were more than enough to sway you to stay.

You were sitting in Barth’s opulent office, and the two of you were waiting for someone. You had seen who would be joining you in your visions: a middle-aged dark-haired stranger. You did not think much of it before the man entered the room.

You immediately recognized that there was something about him. He dressed like all the other upper-class citizens of Amn, but you could have sworn that he looked familiar. As if you had seen him somewhere else, though you could not quite put your finger on it and no visions sprang to your mind.

“Raphael,” Barth lazily mumbled in greeting. “You’re late.”

“Saer Barth,” the man greeted with a bow and a smile. “My deepest apologies.”

That voice and that name. You had definitely met this man before, but where? You would have to touch him to learn more about him.

You rose from your chair and held out a hand to him.

“I’m afraid we haven’t met before,” you said with a smile. “Sibylla.”

“Raphael. A pleasure to meet you,” Raphael said with a smile and shook your hand.

Your brow furrowed slightly when no visions came to your mind at the touch. You looked down and noticed that he was wearing gloves. You kept smiling politely but your eyes narrowed at him. He looked at your expression with a teasing smile, before sitting down and turning his attention to Barth.

You were barely listening to what Barth was rambling about. He wanted Raphael’s help for getting rid of his competitor, though you could not figure out how exactly. All you learned were that Raphael seemed like a man who had good connections. Besides that, it sounded like Barth’s usual paranoid speeches about Lord Mordell’s rise, so you tuned him out.

You were much more interested in who this man was. He seemed so familiar and yet it escaped you who he could be. Your eyes kept drifting to Raphael as you tried to place his face in your mind. At some point he caught you looking. He looked back at you with a knowing smirk, which only made you even more frustrated.

He knew who you were, there was no doubt about it, you thought. Now you had to figure out who he was. If only you could somehow touch him, if only for a brief moment.

“That’s the short of it,” Barth grunted after rambling for about an hour. “We will reconvene tomorrow and see if you can come up with a solution. Leave me.”

Barth waved the both of you away with his usual rude and entitled manner that you had grown so accustomed to. You both left the room, and you walked slightly faster to catch up with Raphael.

“Saer,” you called to him. “A moment of your time, please.”

Raphael turned around and faced you with a smile.

“Yes?”

You got a chance to study his face a bit closer, but it still did not ring any bells. There was just an overwhelming sense of familiarity.

“We’ve met before, haven’t we?” you said. It was less of a question and more of a statement.

“Have we?” Raphael asked with a mock innocent expression. “I am quite certain that I would recall if I had met someone like you before.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. A look in his eyes told you that he was playing with you.  

“Yes, we have,” you said. “Who are you?”

His smile widened.

You got frustrated and reached out to grab him, trying to pull his gloves off or get your fingers under his coat.

“My! Aren’t you eager?” Raphael laughed and raised his arms so that you could not reach them. “I did notice how you were stealing glances at me in there. I’m afraid I’m not interested, dear.”

You reached out to touch his face instead, but he dodged it.

“We know each other!” you said stubbornly and pointed at his face.

He laughed at your frustration.

“So insistent,” Raphael said and pulled off his glove.

He held his hand out to you, and you took it. A vision passed your mind’s eye. Your eyes widened in recognition. Then your brow furrowed, and you looked him up and down.

“A pleasure to see you again,” he said smoothly.

“You got…old?” you said with a slight sneer. “You looked younger when we last met. I thought your sort didn’t age.”

“I look more matured, not old and we do not. My appearance is by choice,” Raphael explained.

“Why would anyone choose to look old?” you asked. “Eternal youth is one of the few upsides of immortality.”

“I do not look…” Raphael closed his eyes and sighed, before changing the subject. “You are taking all this in stride it seems. I would have expected more hostility from you once you remembered me. Not at all that fiery young girl I remember meeting all those centuries ago, it seems.”

“Things changed,” you said with a shrug. “I’m just trying to make a living. Same as you, I suppose.”

“Indeed,” he said with a smile before changing the subject. “I heard about what happened to your dear father. The great All-Seeing robbed of his place in the Heavens and trapped in a stick that no one seems to be able to locate. What a shame.”

“A scepter, not a ‘stick’,” you said. “What’s it to you?”

“I merely wanted to offer my deepest condolences,” Raphael said with a smile that showed the complete opposite meaning of his words. “I do wonder if this is the reason for this little rebellious streak of yours. I hear all sorts of surprising things about you these days, little goddess. Recently, I’ve heard rumors about a certain powerful noble in the city of Illusk whose family met a quite brutal death when a horde of orcs had invaded the city district that he ruled over…”

Your pale eyes narrowed at him. You knew exactly what he was talking about, but he should not be able to know about that.

“So?” you asked with slight shrug and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Don’t play dumb, dear,” Raphael purred. “He was a client of yours, was he not?”

“He was,” you said. “And?”

“One has to wonder why you neglected warning him about this. I also find it such an odd coincidence that the High Captain of the city seemed so well-prepared for the assault, though he did not spring to action before after the horde had marched through your client’s district. The High Captain who, coincidentally of course, was also known to be very outspoken about his low opinion of your client.”

“Yes,” you said with another shrug, smiling. “What an odd coincidence.”

“Isn’t it just?” Raphael said with feigned wonder.

You looked him up and down. You had to at least be impressed by the fact that he had managed to do his research so well.

“I told the High Captain, and he offered me a small fortune if I did not warn my client of the assault,” you admitted. “As I said…I’m just trying to make a living…”

Raphael chuckled.

“My dear, you would put some devils to shame,” he said. “I wonder what old Savras would think if he knew what his daughter were up to.”

“Couldn’t care less,” you said coldly and avoided the subject. “Are you spying on me or something?”

“’Spying’ is such a cynical term. I’m keeping an eye on you, yes,” Raphael said. “You seem like a useful person to know. Not to mention, I find you deeply fascinating. Especially now that you are no longer clinging to the boring and rigid dogma of your father.”

It irked you that he kept mentioning Savras. Especially when his own relationship with his father seemed to be at least as messy as your own, from what you saw when you touched him.

“You keep bringing up my father,” you said with annoyance and defensiveness. “Should we talk about yours instead? I saw plenty of interesting things to talk about when I touched you.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Raphael said with a hint of annoyance, though still smiling.

“I thought not,” you said with a smile. “What are you doing here? Out for old Barth’s soul?”

“Did your little visions fail to reveal my intentions to you?” Raphael asked.

“What I saw was a mess of contradictions, which suggests that you are undecided on the matter, so no,” you said and looked him up and down. “All I really care about is if you intend to kill my current employer.”

Raphael smiled.

“Would you be opposed to it if I was?” he asked.

You raised an eyebrow at that. There might be an opportunity here, you thought.

“In principle, no. Let the old bastard rot in the Hells for my sake,” you answered coldly in a lowered voice in case anyone was eavesdropping. “Though the old bastard in question is still paying me a ridiculous amount of money, so what do you have to offer in return if I let you?”

Raphael’s smile widened.

“Perhaps, you and I are not so different after all,” Raphael said in a lowered voice as well. “You help me procure the soul of both old and young Barth, and I will give you all of the gold that Lord Mordell has offered me in exchange for their demise.”

Your eyes widened a bit at the revelation. Perhaps Barth had not been as overly paranoid as you had thought. Mordell really was out to get him it seemed. Though Raphael must have been instrumental to his plans because you had not seen any threats of Barth’s demise in your visions yet.

“How much gold are we talking?” you asked.

“Fifteen thousand,” Raphael answered casually.

Your jaw almost fell to the floor. That was twice the amount you had managed to squeeze out of Barth during all your time with him. At the time, it was enough gold to buy a house or two.

“And you would just hand that over to me?” you asked in disbelief. “I find that very difficult to believe.”

“I’m a devil, dear. Gold is of little use to me. The economy of the Hells runs on souls…” Raphael explained.

You studied him for a moment. You were interested in the idea, but you had to make sure that you were not letting him somehow rope you into a deal. You would also have to be sure that this would not be traced back to you.

“I will encourage them to sign your deal. You will pay me half before their death and the rest after. I don’t care how you mean to kill them, but make sure it’s not too messy and it can’t be traced back to me. You will also leave their wives and children alive…gods know they’ve suffered enough by having to deal with those two idiots…And I am also not signing anything.”

“Demanding little thing, aren’t you?” Raphael said with a smile. “Fine. We have an agreement.”

As soon as you received the vision of your client’s demise, you left the city. You were staying in an inn, well on your way to Esmeltaran when Raphael popped up out of nowhere. You jumped at his sudden presence. He snapped his fingers and a bag of gold appeared on the nightstand. He looked around your room before seating himself in an armchair.

“Not quite living accommodations befitting a demigoddess, I would say,” Raphael said while looking around at the shabby room of the inn you were staying in.

“I don’t like staying in one place too long,” you said. “You’ve handed me the payment...”

“I have,” he said with a smile and snapped a bottle of Amnian dessert wine and two glasses into existence.

“So…” you said and made a shooing motion with your hands. “Go. Leave.”

“Is that any way to treat a business partner?” Raphael asked and feigned offense. “Where are your manners?”

Raphael smiled at you and held out a glass of wine. You looked him up and down and reluctantly took it.

“To us,” he said and clinked glasses with you.

You were looking at him with a deadpan expression.

“You are getting off on this, aren’t you?” you asked. “The fact that you managed to strike a deal with a demigod. That’s why you keep talking about it, isn’t it?”

“Perish the thought,” Raphael said and sipped his wine. “Can I not simply be thrilled about managing to strengthen the bond between myself and an incredibly useful acquaintance?”

You rolled your eyes and sipped the wine.

“This is a one-time thing,” you said. “And I would really appreciate if you stopped spying on me.”

“You are making it very difficult for me to do so when you are so fascinating to spy on,” he said. “I don’t see why we should not do this again. I think you would find it quite useful to have friends in low places with the direction you are currently headed in, dear. We could be good for each other.”

“I can see how my moral compass is a bit all over the place at the moment, but that does not mean I want to work with you, cambion,” you said and sipped your wine.

“You keep calling me that, as if it is meant as a slight. I am what I am…Although I do much prefer the term ‘devil’,” Raphael said. “I have long since raised above the station of a simple cambion.”

“I’m sure you prefer that, but it doesn’t make you any less of a cambion,” you said. “You are a half-mortal, like me, and there is no running from it. You are no more a devil than I am a god.”

“What a depressing way to view things,” Raphael mused and swirled the wine in his glass. “We are what our father’s made us, are we not? It is their blood that ensures that we are still alive, where had we been mortals, we would be long dead. It is their blood and the powers granted through it that has gotten us here. It is evident to anyone that there is nothing mortal about us, and yet you cling to the notion. Do you really think that we cannot be the same as our fathers, if not one day more than them, simply because we were once carried in mortal wombs?”

What he had said struck a chord, but you were never going to admit that to him.

“Thank you for the wine…and the philosophy lesson,” you said in a stern tone. “You should go.”

Raphael smiled at your urgency to get rid of him.

“I am sure you will warm up to me eventually,” he said. “We have an eternity to get to know each other, after all.”

His persistence was starting to truly infuriate you. You were not going to be business partners, or even acquaintances, with a fiend. You had heard all the stories about the vermin of the Lower Planes, and you did not want to be associated with them. It was beneath you.

“No,” you quickly said and emptied your wineglass before putting it on the table. Your eyes turned threatening. “You will leave me alone after this, do you understand? I am not interested.”

He chuckled at your growing hostility.

“Or what?” he asked with a smile. “Will you smite me, little goddess? I am at least a couple of thousand years your senior, do you really think you could take me?”

Raphael walked closer to you until he was right in front of your face. He was still wearing his smug smile.

Your eyes had turned thunderous at the blatant provocation, and magic was crackling over the skin of your hands in warning. Raphael looked down at your hands, without moving his head.

“Should we find out?” you asked with a tight smile.

His eyes drifted from your hands and back to your face. He was still smiling as his eyes went from the smile on your lips to your pale eyes. You saw a hint of admiration in his eyes. He lifted his hand, ready to snap.

“We will see each other again, Sibylla,” he said in a low voice and then snapped.

He disappeared in a flash of smoke and embers. 

[eff-plays]

But Astarion does seem to feel guilt/remorse when meeting the 7k spawns… idk it feels sometimes he does feel guilt and sometimes he’s just heartless.,

If this is in response to this post I made, then that post was in response to this and also some other fandom bullshit.

So I'm not saying Astarion doesn't feel remorse ever, but highlighting that at the core of his being, he is deeply selfish and self-serving, which a lot of fandom seems to either excuse away, or pretend is super good actually.

Here's the thing. Astarion does feel remorse ... in the Spawn ending. And obviously he feels no remorse in the Ascendant ending. So what happens with reglier ol' Asty? Well, he's not letting himself feel remorse. Because he's still not ready for it. He's still afraid of it. And like, yes! That's a totally logical thing for his character to do in that moment.

My problem is what people do next, and it's that they assume that his being this fucked up is actually an excuse to be a shithead to his victims and to others. That we should extend sympathy only to him and not to the people he's hurt.

"Well he was forced into it!" And? If I was forced into hurting someone else for my own survival, I'd still feel bad for hurting them? Most people would. I'm not saying Astarion doesn't, but that is distinctly how he acts. Which makes sense, self-defense mechanism etc etc. And stans agree that yes, he does supposedly feel guilt but he can't express it. So why do they excuse it when he instead chooses cruelty?

Again, I'm not making a moral judgment on him, he's a fictional character. I think what he does is (generally, I agree the reaction to the kids vs Sebastian is a bit odd) logical and makes sense for what he is. But pointing out those flaws of his, that were written like that on purpose, that are acknowledged flaws both in- and out-of-universe, doesn't make someone "gross" or a bad person. People disliking Astarion for his bad traits aren't automatically bad people who just don't get him.

He's a dick! He's written to be a dick! It's fine if people don't vibe with it or joke about killing him or do outright kill him! Will they miss out? Yes! But that's their perogative. People not liking Astarion, or hell, just doing something as innocuous as pointing out that he's kind of a huge asshole, are not uwu missing the point or being "gross" or whatever. They are acknowledging a fundamental and undisputable part of his character.

You can't on one hand wax poetic about how complex he is and how he lashes out because he's in such deep pain, and then take issue with people who point out how he lashes out and how it hurts others when he does so.

Speaking of, the thing about his reaction to the spawn kids? And how he supposedly feels bad but can't express it? He's all about killing them again! He wants to kill them! And when does he express remorse over both this wish and his actions toward them when he first victimized them? In the Spawn ending. The one that requires you to tell him no. Don't do that shit. It's bad. What you want is bad for you and for everyone else, even if it makes sense why you want it.

As a friend pointed out, it is kind of wild to see how life imitates art. In order for Astarion to get better, you need to acknowledge and push back against his cruelty and challenge his view of the world. That includes challenging his shitty coping mechanisms and reactions to things. And yet, it seems some people can't even do that.

You can acknowledge the complexities of his writing without using it as a cudgel against any and all criticism. And in particular, you can sympathize with him without attacking anyone who doesn't have the same level of sympathy, for usually quite understandable reasons.

Like I keep saying. Just because you understand how he acts doesn't make it somehow correct!

Anyway, sorry about that. I just had some thots because my brain is so big and full of worms.

[alisonthedeluluisback]

Rating movies about nazi germany I have watched

First of all, I want to make it clear that this isn't a professional review, it's only my opinion

I liked the proposal of the story being centered around a nazi family and the younger boy befriending a jew, but all of that goes down the drain due to the multiple historical inaccuracies: the children learned about nazism very early, so there is no way bruno would have been that innocent. Also, concentration camps wasn't of that much easy access. The appeal to emotion instead of actually building a deep plot also sucks. 5/10

I absolutely adored this movie, the plot is so deep, the construction around the persecution of Liesel's parents, her relationship with her adoptive parents, the brotherhood she had with the jew hiding in their house, her tough but sweet personality, her desire for knowledge. It was all so beautifully orchestrated, and also the historical accuracy>>>>>> 10/10

This movie will always be a classic for me. The way they portrayed nazis as they were, human, vulnerable, with a distorted view of the world but still seeking what they thought was the best. How they went deep down into the life in the bunker, the despair and hopelessness they felt. Also, the way they portrayed Eva Braun>>>> how she tried to sugarcoat everything not to suffer, how she threw parties in the hallway of death, how even in a desperate situation the greatest joy of her life was to marry the terrible man she fell in love with and was blindly loyal too. Everything is so heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time. Also, the historical accuracy is just a delight. 1000/10

This is a true punch in the gut. The terrible way he lost his family, the inhuman life he lived in the guetto, his part in the warsaw guetto riot, how he kept his beautiful talent immaculate till the end, when he lost the love of his life and had to see her married, the hunger, mistreating and fear that were a part of his daily life, his brave survival. Everything about this movie is truly sad. 9/10

I won't even talk much about this one. I start it laughing and finished it on the verge of crying. It is funny, heartbreaking, the perfect mix between comedy and tragedy, the true definition of bittersweetness. 100/10

Following the same road of the last one, there's this piece of art. It had everything to go wrong, but it went beautifully. They made something outrageous turn out funny without being offensive, and yet made a deep, tragic and beautiful story. The underlying romance between that ex-soldier and his assistant, the way jojo changed his mentality gradually, and his absurd view of hitler. It was surprisingly very historically accurate, but Im still confused about: how was jojo not sent to an orphanage after his mother died? How did he survive on his own? Anyways, this was a negative point for me, but still love it. 50/10

Okay, I absolutely love this one, but hate to death how they slipped over such simple aspects, like Hitler's personality. They made him hit a dog when in fact he defended animal's rights, they made him not give a shit about his mom being ill when in fact he loved her dearly. They changed his personality to make him seem even more evil. But, I also have plenty of positive points to talk about. I rarely see movies portraying Hitler's early life the way this one did, and how he ascended gradually to power. I love this miniseries deeply for getting into details about his whole life. They even aborded his abusive relationship with his niece. I can almost forgive the outrageous innacuracy with the characters and the altering of some details (how he earned his iron cross, how he met eva braun, how he treated fuschl), and I love it despite its defects. It also has some iconic scene: the bar fight, the munich beer hall putch, the trial. I wish I could give a 1000/10, but because of its innacuracies im giving it a 500/10

Nazis getting brutally slaughtered. Do I really have to say anything else? Also, Hans Landa>>>>>>>> ∞/10

[natsgrave]

MIDNIGHT RAIN | elizabeth olsen

She was sunshine, I was midnight rain. She wanted a bride, I was making my own name, chasing that fame. ( another story inspired by @taylorswift song ) play the song midnight rain for better experience, ig i do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated on other sites. plagiarism is a crime! masterlist

ELIZABETH'S POV

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the city streets. I sat on a park bench, lost in the memories of a love that had once consumed my every thought.

I still remember the day I first laid eyes on her. It was a warm summer evening as I sat sipping my coffee in a quaint little café downtown. Her radiant smile and infectious laughter caught my attention from across the room as she chatted animatedly with a group of friends. There was an undeniable aura of confidence and grace that surrounded her, making it impossible for me to look away.

Little did I know then that this chance encounter would mark the beginning of a love story unlike any other.

As fate would have it, we eventually crossed paths again at a mutual friend's housewarming party. I mustered up the courage to approach her and strike up a conversation. We spent the entire evening engrossed in passionate discussions about art, cinema, and life. From that moment, it felt as though the universe had conspired to bring us together.

Her name was Y/N, known for her kind heart and artistic talent, she worked as a freelance photographer to capture the captivating essence of the world around her.

Y/N's talent and beauty captivated me from the moment we met. As we spent more time together, our connection deepened, and I found myself falling head over heels for her. Every moment I spent with Y/N felt like a scene from a movie I never wanted to end.

This marked the beginning of our whirlwind romance, as we spent every waking moment together, exploring and nurturing our deep bond.

We were inseparable, two souls entwined in a fiery passion for life and each other, bound by shared dreams and shared laughter. We shared a deep connection that seemed unbreakable. We believed we could conquer any obstacles together. As our love blossomed, we believed that nothing could tear us apart, but little did I know that destiny had different plans for us.

I'm an aspiring and rising actress with a raw talent and dreams as vast as the night sky. Y/N quickly became enthralled by my creativity, dedication, and unwavering belief in my talent. We began our journey as a couple, sharing in both the triumphs and tribulations that came with my pursuit of stardom.

The early days were filled with excitement and promise. She watched me blossom from one auditions to the next, inhabiting different characters effortlessly, leaving audiences captivated. Seeing me gain recognition for my hard work brought immense joy to both of our hearts. However, as my career started gaining momentum, it became evident that the demands of the industry began to take its toll and would put a strain on our relationship.

Our love was exhilarating, but also fragile.

As our relationship flourished, my acting career started to skyrocket. I landed roles in films, theater productions, and even received a nomination for an esteemed acting award. Y/N admired my dedication and passion for my craft, but I know, she couldn't help but feel a pang of unease as our lives began to move in different directions.

As my star began to ascend, I found myself faced with complicated choices. My career demanded my undivided attention, leaving little room for anything else. The glitz and glamour of my newfound fame consumed me, while she silently supported me from the shadows. Y/N became my biggest fan, attending every premiere and award ceremony, proud to be by my side.

My career as an actress began to grow, landing me on several leading roles in critically acclaimed movies and earning widespread recognition. I became the talk of the town, and my journey to stardom overshadowed everything else in my life, including my relationship with Y/N.

As my dedication to my craft grew, so did the distance between us. Our once intimate moments became fleeting, replaced by late-night auditions and endless rehearsals. Our conversations became brief, filled with surface-level pleasantries. I tried desperately to hold on, but it felt like the more I held, the more she slipped away.

Like clockwork, the late-night auditions and grueling shooting schedules began to consume our time together. It was during one such pivotal moment, as I stood on the precipice of fame, that I made the heartbreaking decision to prioritize my career and put our love on hold.

One evening, while cuddled up on our favorite couch, sipping on mugs of warm tea, I turned to Y/N with a weakened smile.

"Y/N," I started, voice filled with both excitement and uncertainty, "I've been offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

"What kind of opportunity, Liz?" She asked, her voice quivering with anticipation.

"I've been offered the lead role in a blockbuster film." I confessed, eyes gleaming with a mixture of hope and trepidation.

"I can't believe you got the lead role, baby! I'm so proud of you." Y/N said, my heart filled with both excitement and a hint of sadness.

I looked at her, my eyes shining with a mixture of determination and guilt. I took a deep breath before speaking, "Thank you, love. I've worked so hard for this opportunity, and I can't let it slip away. It's a chance to catapult my career to new heights, but it means committing to months of intense filming overseas. It also means I'll have to dedicate all my time to rehearsals and performances. I won't be able to give you what you deserve." I can feel the lump forming in my throat as my heart tightening.

"Are you saying… you're choosing your career over us?" Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I reached out to hold her hand, "No, it's not that. I love you with all my heart, but this dream means everything to me. I need to take this chance, even if it means breaking both our hearts in the process."

Days turned into endless nights as she watched me passionate pursuit of fame. Y/N stood by my side, supporting my dreams while silently breaking inside. Yet, we couldn't bring ourselves to let go.

Love had a way of blinding us to harsh realities.

Months passed, and the distance between us grew. The sparkle in my eyes, once fueled by our love, dimmed with the weight of my commitment to my craft. The late-night conversations turned into quiet embraces, and the laughter that used to echo through our home became mere faint memories.

With each passing film, my commitment to my career just grew even stronger, causing me to face a difficult choice between love and ambition.

Then came the day that shattered our fragile world.

One evening, as the dusk settled over our now-empty apartment, I stood by the door, my eyes flickering with a mixture of excitement and sadness. We could see the desperate struggle within both of us, torn between my aspirations and our love.

I made a decision that shattered both our hearts into a million fragments. I stood before her, tears streaming down our face, and whispered words that still haunt me to this day, "I'm sorry, but I can't keep juggling both my career and our relationship."

I saw her face fell, her heart sinking with the weight of my words. We knew this was the moment she had been dreading. She understood that my dreams were on the line, but Y/N couldn't escape the fear of losing me. and now, it's happening.

"Lizzie, I want nothing more than to see you succeed and chase your dreams," She said softly, holding my hands tightly. "But what about us? What about our relationship?"

My eyes filled with tears as I gently squeezed her hands, "I love you, Y/N, more than words can express," I whispered. "But love alone cannot decide our futures. We both have dreams to pursue, and I hope you understand that I don't want to hold you back."

"Lizzie, please…"

"I needed to pursue my dream, even if it meant sacrificing our love. I can't ask you to wait for me, Y/N," I said softly, my voice quivering. "This journey is something I need to take alone."

She fought against the tears threatening to overflow, but understanding my dreams. Y/N nodded, struggling to find her voice, "I'll always be here for you, Lizzie. No matter what."

Both our heart broke at each others words, but we knew I was right. Love alone could not sustain our relationship if it was suffocated by unfulfilled dreams. As much as it hurt, we had to let eachother go and went to follow our own path.

As she left, I felt hollow, like a ghost existing in a world that had suddenly turned dark. I wandered through the ruins of what was once our love, searching for a purpose, for something to fill the void she left behind.

But, the bright lights of fame and fortune beckoned me, and I made the difficult choice to prioritize my career above all else.

In the aftermath of my departure, I was left in a sea of solitude. Trying to mend my broken heart, I threw myself into work and surrounded myself with friends who could offer solace. It wasn't easy, but life moved on, and I learned to cope with the dull ache that haunted me. The pain of our separation was raw and merciless, leaving me to question if I had made the right choice.

Years went by, and life slowly stitched my broken heart back together. I learned to live without Y/N, but the memories remained etched in my mind like faded photographs.

I heard that Y/N's passion for photography took her to new heights, showcasing her talent on richly colored canvases. Meanwhile, I had become one of Hollywood's most sought-after actresses, reaping the awards for my hard work along with my dedication and acclaim to my name.

But amidst my successes, I had never forgot about her. Our love, though altered, remained forever etched in my heart.

One fateful day, I received an invitation to an interview segment where I would talk about myself. My past love. As nervous as I was, I couldn't resist the opportunity to let go what I was really feeling, even if it stirred up old emotions. The interview took place in a luxurious Hollywood hotel suite, adorned with floral arrangements and twinkling lights, setting the stage for an unforgettable encounter.

As I walked into the hotel suite where the interview was scheduled, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and apprehension bubbling within me.

I entered the room, clad in a stunning red suit that accentuated my beauty. I exchanged pleasantries with the woman who assigned to interview me.

As the interview progressed, I found myself caught in a whirlwind of emotions, alternating between reclaiming the familiarity we once shared and maintaining professionalism.

"So, Miss Lizzie…" The woman trailed, "Why are you still single?"

"I choose to pursue my dreams." I said with a smile, "I wanted to become popular. Make my own name." I added.

"What happened to you and your past lover?" She asked.

"Everything went downhill the moment I start gaining the spotlight. Time was our number one enemy." I answered honestly, "She was so proud, we were both happy but ofcourse, along all of that is the sacrifices."

"That's where the conflict started?"

I nod simply, "I got so busy. We barely see eachother since I'm always tired and sometimes, staying on the set. We almost broke up the first time but choose to fix things."

"That's good." She happily replied.

"Honestly, I don't think so…" I start to play with the rings on my hand, "As a rising actress, my job demands a lot. I can't focus on two things that time. I was never good at handling things in general."

"When was the time that you realized you need to let it go?"

"Before, we can't last a minute without talking to eachother then that changed. We barely talk as we were both become busy pursuing our dreams." I smiled a little, "That's when I knew… it's over."

"Was it a proper break up?"

"Yes, it was. At first, she said no but I explained it to her. We both have a dream. I don't want to hold her back and same goes to me."

She looked at the paper she's holding before asking, "Any regrets?"

I coyly looked into her eyes and said, "The one thing I regret most in my journey to success is not having her by my side. We had something truly special, and I've often wondered what might have been." My eyes glistened with tears as I added with a heavy heart, "It's been so hard without her. But I needed to follow my dreams, even if it meant losing the love of my life."

The woman reached out and gently held my hand, "I'm sure, it was a difficult decision for both of you. Life took you both down different paths, but it doesn't mean your love wasn't real."

I let out a sigh tinged with sadness, "She were always my biggest supporter. But I couldn't let go of this opportunity, even if it broke my heart."

"What was the last thing you heard about her?"

"She's a successful photographer now and a very famous host in a lot of TV shows."

As the interview concluded, she asked, "One last question, do you still love her?"

I smiled and wiped my tears, "When I left all those years ago, I never stopped loving her. It's gonna be her, always."

"Do you have anything to say for her before we end this?"

I nodded, "Sometimes, we need to make tough choices that shape our destiny. I'm glad you found success, and I hope it brings you all the joy you deserve." I took a deep breath, my eyes filled with the bittersweet realization,"We can't change the past, but we can choose how our story unfolds from here. Maybe it is really time for us to rewrite our narrative. For the last time, I love you."

"Thank you so much for granting our invitation and answering the questions, Miss Lizzie."

"Thank you so much and you're welcome, Y/N."

And in that definitive moment, the world outside the hotel suite faded away, leaving only our souls who had found their way back to each other. As the door closed behind us, our past became but a memory, and the unwritten chapters of our future began to unfold.

The past, the heartbreaks, the missed chances—it all seemed to evaporate into thin air.

Sometimes, the choices we make lead us down paths we never planned, but in the end, it's the love we choose to hold onto that truly defines our lives. And in the depths of our hearts, the memories of shattered spotlights can find solace, reminding us of the beauty and resilience of the human spirit.

Sometimes, the journey of love leads us through unforeseen detours. It teaches us the power of sacrifice, the pain of letting go, and the resilience of the human heart. And in the end, we find solace knowing that even after traversing treacherous paths, we can still stumble upon our own happily ever after.

After all this time, I knew that sometimes, the most painful goodbyes could lead us to the greatest love stories of all.

[kadextra]

so on a whim I started reading omniscient reader’s viewpoint manhwa

..and got hooked on the story so hard that I easily blasted through all available eps in less than a week. istg they put dr*gs in this thing it’s so good???? 😭

[SPOILER WARNING! big ramble ahead. if you’ve never read it, leave this post. consider checking it out you won’t be able to put it down]

lets get this out of the way first.

RAHHHHHH KIM DOKJA….. KIM DOKJA I LOVE YOU

GUYSSSSS 🥺 LISTEN. HE’S SUCH A GOOD PROTAGONIST. MY TRAUMA BOY. MY DUDE WITH THE POWER TO INFODUMP PEOPLE TO DEATH. YOU SELF-SACRIFICING IDIOT. his cunning intelligence makes him super attractive what can I say, I LOVE smart mcs with ambiguous morality and self sacrificial nature

here’s a big ✨shut your mouth✨ to every character who’s said he’s ugly- get your eyes checked, get a job get away from him (I know it’s because of the fourth wall’s filter it’s not their fault I’m just being silly)

the fourth wall is such a cool power to have. the complexity of how it acts based on his perception of fiction vs reality as the reader …. that’s very interesting and well thought out!!! how it lowkey has a consciousness too and it’s so tied into his mental state makes me want to psychoanalyze this guy even more. probably one of the most unique powers I’ve seen created and explored in a story tbh

I think the entire system of how the world works is really well done in general. constellations watching the apocalyptic bloodbath via livestream and sending donos to their favorite little guys shouldn’t work as well as it does and cracks me up so much 😭 (uriel is the best). I enjoy learning about all the irl different fables, history & mythologies too. plus doing my own research is fun! I did a deep dive through the web to learn about dokkaebi folklore lol I’m having a good time

I also related hard to how dokja read TWSA throughout his life, the story was a companion for him. got choked up bc I reflected on how much my own favorite companion stories for years mean to me. there’s been situations I’ve thought “what would (character) do?” dokja saying stuff like “what would joonghyuk do?” felt like I got called out <3 I’d probably be the same as him if my favorite characters suddenly came to life

anyways yeah I caught up with the manhwa looked online and discovered it comes from an already completed novel with over 500 chapters and the manhwa is barely a third into adapting it though it’s been releasing every week for 4 years. and that it’ll take like 10 more years to finish. I then planted my face in my hands and screamed with despair

I’ll shrivel up waiting to see what happens……………heyyy woahhhh.. whats this light of salvation ? the novel file just completed download on my phone ? that’s crazyy wow I opened it ? im scrolling it right now ? omg I’m telling myself in the mirror “pace yourself, try to space your reading out do NOT read too fast” ?

jokes aside im excited, first I’ll take some time to read back through the earlier chapters for extra context of scenes! >:D after I finish doing that…. pls pray for my self-control to try stretching this for as long as possible. I’m pumped to see what happens next with this demon king part so maybe I’ll read along with the manhwa unless I get too impatient heh

to conclude- I had no idea the fandom of orv was so passionate. while closing my eyes to spoilers, I was looking at beautiful fanart and animatics (watched this one and ascended that’s one of my fav rin songs). I can tell how much you guys love the story, there’s always going to be people like me who get interested so keep it up :D if the fandom does end up reading this, ummm *knocks on the door* hi im new

I will likely talk about it more in the future!! tagging under “#kade reads orv” ! might draw fanart on my art blog too bc brainworms <3 happy reading everyone

[tomhiddleston]

One More Tomorrow (Billy Taylor x Fem!Reader) - Chapter II.

CHAPTER I.

Summary: Billy's crush returns to The Halcyon for her seventeenth birthday and the two of them enjoy more chances to grow closer.

Pairing: Billy Taylor x Fem!Reader (third person)

TW: so much fluff, blink and you miss it Billy having some impure thoughts, mention of death of a parent, Billy being Billy again

Word Count: 5.5k+

A/N: I love Billy Taylor so much that I want to scream, explode out of my body, and ascend to the moon. That's the author's note. Also, thanks again to @valeskafics for giving this a read-through for me! c:

Disclaimer: I do not own any The Halcyon characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are always appreciated!

Art deco dividers by @saradika

It is the longest summer of Billy’s life, waiting for the months to tick by and November to finally arrive. Every day is just another shift. The same old thing day in and day out. Now and then, Billy catches himself staring wistfully at the marble staircase as though he will see her coming down to have lunch with her father or pop out for a bit of shopping. He even starts dreaming about her. About taking her dancing or going on a drive through the country. One morning he wakes up blushing after dreaming about her in a wedding dress, walking down the aisle toward him in a church filled to the brim with white roses. 

Does she dream about him, too?

The stiflingly hot summer months wane on and Billy continually bothers Mr. Garland about the Greenes’ return visit to The Halcyon. Every time he asks, the answer is the same: there has been no request yet about any birthday party, whether for Mr. Greene or his daughter. Billy starts to wonder if she won’t return in the fall. If, maybe, she’s found a beau in Birmingham - one she would rather celebrate her birthday with. One her father might actually approve of.

He starts to mope around The Halcyon when August turns into September with still no word, enough that even Mr. Garland begins to notice. His mum, Peggy, has seen the most of his gloomy mood out of anyone, what with having to watch him drag his feet around their house every morning and night. “It’s about that girl again,” she tells Mr. Garland and both share a sigh. Young love can be such an overwhelming, complicated thing. But this is Billy’s first time coming face to face with it, and she hates to see her sweet boy - her eldest child and only son - like this.

Peggy is, therefore, elated when a letter arrives at The Halcyon addressed to Billy. When he arrives to have tea with her that afternoon, she wiggles her finger at the mailboxes beside her desk and tells him to look. 

But who would write to him? His confused expression only warrants a smile from his mother.

“It’s from Birmingham, Billy.”

He very nearly throws his teacup to the ground to lunge for the letter. Sure enough, that’s his name written in delicate cursive on the back of the envelope. His heart is pounding out of his chest as he tears open the letter and finds an automobile sketch inside with a single folded piece of paper. A handwritten letter so perfect that it almost looks printed.

Dear Billy,

Mr. Garland said you liked my father’s automobiles, so I managed to get one of his original sketches of the Model F for you. It’s not much, but I hope you will like it all the same.

I’ll see you in November.

She’s signed the letter “yours truly.” Not “sincerely,” not “regards.” He’ll be pouring over the meaning of that one for days. But, no matter the meaning of the signature… she’s remembered him. She’s thought of him. She’s taken the time to write to him! And she does still plan on returning to The Halcyon. 

Suddenly, his dreary summer no longer feels so dreary.

November 1939.

The leaves on the trees lining the streets of London have turned orange and fallen. The grass, once kissed with glittering morning dew, slumps from the heavy frost that coats it each sunrise. It hasn’t snowed yet, but winter’s chill is beginning to set in in earnest. 

None of the ladies at The Halcyon dare step through the front doors without their heavy coats, gloves, and scarves any longer lest they catch their death, they lament. The fireplaces roar at all hours to offer some heat to the towering lobby. The doormen keep the doors shut as much as possible to trap the warmth inside. Cold manages to seep in every now and then when an unfortunately timed breeze blows through just as someone is stepping in or out, but it’s never severe enough to linger.

It is only a few weeks before The Halcyon’s lobby will be stripped of its usual flowers, vases, and other decorative trinkets and decked out in full Christmastime splendor. But first, the hotel must play host to the seventeenth birthday party of a certain young woman. And her father has spared no expense in decorating the lobby and the bar for the occasion. 

Before the Greenes even arrive, the lobby is filled with dozens of arrangements of white and pink roses in gold vases. Mr. Greene even commissioned a special tiered gold chandelier for the occasion, which hangs low over a stunning centerpiece of peonies, hydrangeas, roses, and lilies enhanced with sparkling Swarovski crystals. 

The other bellboys whinge about the decorations being too much, but Billy just brushes them off. He knows in his heart that they aren’t enough. Every flower in the world wouldn’t be enough to match her beauty.

He’s proven himself correct when the front doors swing open and she walks in, arm linked with her father’s while the other holds onto her dog’s lead. Billy has made sure that he is the one to take her coat and hat. He notices the coy smile on her rouged lips as he slips the coat off of her shoulders and the soft blush that blooms on her cheeks when his fingers brush against her upper arm. 

“Hello, miss,” he mutters softly, unable to hide his own smile. His heart is full to bursting at being so close to her again. The warm, rosy scent of her perfume is filling his nostrils and making his head spin.

“Hi,” she whispers over her shoulder, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “It’s good to see you.”

“You…” Billy’s mouth has gone so dry that he can’t finish what was meant to be a two-word sentence. He clears his throat to no avail. “Uh huh.”

She’s quickly whisked away by her father and Mr. Garland, who are eager to show off the decorations to her. It’s clear that she isn’t used to such grand gestures, seeing how she nervously clasps her hands in front of her and shifts from one foot to the other. Billy drinks in the sight of her, in her pale blue dress that he guesses has been tailored to fit her judging by the way it so perfectly hugs her every curve. His eyes linger perhaps a little too long on her bum because he hears Feldman clear his throat. 

“Come along, lover boy. Luggage to unload.”

Billy doesn’t see her again until the following afternoon, when he is sent up to her room to take her dog out for a walk. She’s otherwise preoccupied, Feldman says. If it were for anyone else - even His Lordship himself - Billy would have groaned and grumbled about having to stumble about the streets of London being dragged along by a dog. He doesn’t even want to think about the more than few occasions when he’s lost control of a dog’s lead and left the guest’s beloved pet to run amok in the streets. He’s had to dodge cars chasing after more than one poodle or bulldog, only to return to The Halcyon completely out of breath and with his bellboy hat and cloak all askew.

But he won’t let that happen to her dog. There is no way that he will treat this dog as anything but the most precious jewel in the world. 

Walking toward the lobby, he has wrapped the lead around his wrist twice so there is no possibility for the dog to break free. He does thank his lucky stars that the dog is so small and well behaved. Even less of a chance to muck things up. Still… he can’t help but feel nerves churning in his stomach at the thought of something happening to the animal.

“Alright there, Clara?” he asks the corgi as she trots along happily beside him down the stairs. “It’s you and me today. Please be good, yeah?”

“Don’t worry. She always is.” 

Billy freezes. He knows that voice. 

When he looks up, his eyes meet hers. He’s been standing at his post by the door all day, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, but he wasn’t expecting to see her right now. His free hand tugs at his uniform jacket to make sure he looks perfectly tidy and in order.

“Clara, are you going for a walk with Billy today?” She coos in a high-pitched voice to the dog, who spins in a circle in excitement. He watches a small crinkle form at the corner of her eye as she smiles at her beloved pet. Her cheeks and nose are pink from the cold and her hair is windswept, but she still looks as lovely as ever. “Do you… mind if I join you?”

“N-not at all,” Billy replies, sounding more nervous than he’d like to. “Bit cold out, though.” No, he reprimands himself. Don’t try to dissuade her, you idiot! He’s fidgeting with his hands again like he does every time he talks to her. Get it together, Billy.

“It is, but… I need a break from all this last-minute party planning. If I have to look at another table setting, I think I’ll die of boredom.” She rolls her eyes dramatically to emphasize her hyperbole, but Billy still prickles at the mere thought of it. 

“I don’t want you to die,” he responds with a little too much sincerity. But he means it. He can’t think of anything that would be worse.

“All the more reason for me to join you, then, Billy.” 

Her smile softens the tightness in his jaw. He offers a crooked grin in return, but he’s kicking himself inside. Will he ever stop making a fool of himself in front of this girl? He could tell himself a thousand times to act normally around her and he would still muck it all up the second he opens his mouth to speak to her. And yet, she doesn’t seem to mind? She might even… like him? 

He reckons he’ll never understand girls.

Their walk with Clara winds up being the longest they’ve ever spent alone together. It’s so much more than a stolen glance across the hotel lobby or a few minutes spent chatting when he brings her tea. They are strolling through Hyde Park side by side, almost in a world of their own. This isn’t the time of year when mums are out with their babies in prams or old couples are walking hand in hand among the trees. Due to the cold, the park is uncharacteristically empty and quiet, save for their own shoes crunching along the stone path and the jingle of Clara’s collar.

But the very best part is that Billy has gotten a chance to hold a proper conversation with her. If by “conversation” he means “letting her tell him about herself while he bloody clams up yet again.” She tells him about her life in Birmingham, about a book she’s reading, about her father’s company. Anything and everything. He’s happy to hear her talk. He’d listen to her read the dictionary aloud if it meant he could hear the sound of her bright, sweet voice. She has a way of softening the inflection at the end of her sentences that is so warm, so comforting. 

“Billy.” His head snaps toward her like it does every time she says his name. “Is it true that your mum works at The Halcyon, too?”

“Yeah… she’s the telephonist.”

“Oh. I’ve spoken to her, then.” A realization dawns on her and she laughs, throwing her head back in a way that makes his ears go hot. “Oh… Mrs. Taylor. I’m so silly. I should have known. She seems nice.” 

“She is.” Billy wrinkles his nose. “Bit overbearing, though. Sometimes…” He’s convinced that his mum still sees him as her little boy the way she treats him at times. Fussing over his hair, fixing his collar, tying his shoes. As if he isn’t turning eighteen next year. 

“Yeah, but that’s just her being your mum, isn’t it? They’re supposed to be like that. It just means she loves you.”

Billy shrugs. Doesn’t make his mum any less annoying about it. “What about your mum?” 

He realizes he’s well and truly stepped in it when he sees her face fall. He had wondered why only she and her father had been to The Halcyon, but guessed that maybe her mum didn’t fancy traveling. But the way she purses her lips and stares at her feet as they continue walking suggests something else. 

“She died when I was four.” 

“Oh–” Billy feels his heart sink at having brought up such a sorrowful memory. He wants to apologize a million times and it wouldn’t be enough to convey how sorry he is.

“Please don’t feel bad about asking. It’s been so long that I… I don’t really remember her. It’s just been me and dad all this time. And he makes sure I know that I’m loved.” She laughs dryly. “I mean, look at how completely overboard he’s gone with this birthday party. I guess that’s his version of being overbearing.”

Billy’s expression softens. “Well, but… you deserve it, though. I’d throw you a party like that. If I had the money.” He realizes what he’s just said and hurriedly attempts to cover his tracks. “I mean…! If I was your dad. No–” Bloody hell, you’ve just made it worse. 

She laughs in the same way she does whenever he fumbles over his words with her. Not laughing at him, not laughing like he’s stupid like other people tend to do. It’s a genuine, sweet laugh accompanied by that glimmer in her eyes that he loves so much. He pulls his lips inward as he feels new heat rush to his cheeks. 

“Did you get my letter, Billy? From this summer?”

His previous embarrassment almost completely forgotten, his face lights up in a wide grin. He becomes more animated than he’s ever been around her, almost bouncing along the path beside her. She clearly notices, judging by the way she smiles.

“Oh, god. Yeah, I did…! That sketch by your dad… that was bloody incredible!”  

She laughs again, a laugh that seems to warm the air around them. “I’m so glad you liked it.” 

“Liked it? I… I loved it. The Model F is the most brilliant car on the market. But you… know that…” Billy stops himself before he begins to fanboy even more. He feels a little flutter in his heart as he glances sideways at her, though. He dips his head a bit in a moment of sudden bashfulness. “Can’t believe you… you know. Thought of me.”

“‘Course I did.”

Billy turns it over again and again in his mind, trying to decipher the meaning of her words. If he weren’t such an idiot, he’d come right out and ask her. But the words bloom and die on his tongue in an instant. 

He can’t remember a time when a girl ever looked twice at him, let alone thought of him when they weren’t together. Had she really taken time to think about him when she had returned home to Birmingham? Did she think of him when she took tea every afternoon, or when she removed her coat upon stepping inside her house? 

His silence eventually prompts her to prod him with a question of her own.

“Did… you think of me, too, Billy?”

His eyes are wide when he turns to her. He doesn’t mean to stare at her like some startled animal, but he can’t bloody help it. The thought of divulging the truth to her strikes the fear of God in him. 

“Yeah, I did,” is all he can manage to push past the frog in his throat.

Yes, he thought of her. He thought of her every morning as he stepped foot into the hotel lobby. He thought of her whenever he passed the flower shop at the end of his street and smelled the freshly cut roses they had for sale. He thought of her on rainy days, on sunny days. He thought of her morning and night. 

Even his younger sister, Dora, eventually started to notice how Billy seemed to float around their house whenever he would start to think about her. Being only eight years old, it had been a prime opportunity for the younger Taylor sibling to tease her brother relentlessly. But not even Dora’s incessant needling could have dissuaded Billy from thinking about the charming, beautiful girl from Birmingham who had smiled at him and made him feel wanted. Nothing could.

That’s what Billy would have said to her if he’d had the courage to do so. 

Instead, he just manages to flash a shy little smile that seems to satisfy her because she responds with one of her own. 

“Will I see you around at my party tomorrow night?” 

“Yeah… I’ll be working.” 

She doesn’t know that he begged and pleaded with one of the other bellboys to switch shifts with him so that he could be there. He doesn’t tend to work such late evenings. His mum prefers him to be home for dinner. But he would have done anything to be there for her party, even if it means that he will be stood by the door taking hats and coats all night.

“I wish you could come to the party itself,” she mutters softly, perhaps thinking that he can’t hear her. She sounds so earnest that it gives him butterflies. “My dad and my cousin Margaret won’t tell me what they’ve got planned, but I think it'll be a real gas.”

Billy knows he may be a bit daft sometimes, but he isn’t stupid enough to think that he could be anything but a bellboy at her party. When he’s alone with her, it feels a bit like they aren’t from different social classes. That the earrings she wears aren’t real diamonds and her clothes haven’t come from the finest shops in London. That he isn’t a lad from down the street who’s never owned anything that wasn’t second hand. She treats him like he’s someone. Someone worth talking to, worth listening to. Someone who is more than just another worker whose name she’ll forget by the next day.

It brings him crashing back down to earth every time he steps out of their little bubble and back into the real world. In the end, he’s just a bellboy. And she’s a beautiful heiress. Love, affection, even friendship between people like them is something forbidden. That is something that Billy must constantly remind himself of. It hangs in the very air around them whenever he is with her. But it does not stop him from wanting her.

“I’m sure you’ll have a great time,” Billy says, and he means it. “I hope you do.”

Billy laments that they’ve been walking for long enough that The Halcyon has come back into view. Their approach spells the end of their walk together. It’s a return to that real world where they must go their separate ways; him, to his work, and her, to her glittering, beautiful life. 

The hotel lobby welcomes them back with the warmth of the fireplaces, which helps them begin to shake off the November chill. Theirs is a quick goodbye as her cousin pulls her away, shrilly and breathlessly admonishing her for disappearing when there is still so much to do for the party. But she’s sure to give Billy one last tender smile before she disappears into the restaurant.

There’s hardly any room to breathe, let alone move, through The Halcyon lobby on the night of her seventeenth birthday party. If anyone thought there had been too many flowers in the room before, then they would have had to rethink their definition of “excess” upon seeing the state of the lobby tonight. 

Flowers, mostly white roses, cover every pillar, frame every doorway, cover every rung on the bannister. There is even an archway created entirely from flowers at the top of the staircase - the perfect setting for the birthday girl’s grand entrance. And the gold accents have only been expanded upon since the day before. In some places, the light bounces off of the gold candelabras and vases in such a way that it casts a warm reflection on the walls and floor. It’s the most extravagant affair that Billy has seen at The Halcyon in more than a year of working there.

And it’s all for her.

The buzz in the room dies down in an instant when Mr. Greene appears in the archway at the top of the stairs, delivering a short speech about the gathering of family and friends that is eloquent without any of the stuffiness of having been rehearsed. It’s clear by the reaction of the crowd that he has a natural charisma about him - something that his daughter has clearly inherited from him. 

Billy’s eyes widen as she steps out from behind the flowers after being beckoned by her father. There must be a hundred people packed into the lobby, but it’s as though a spotlight has been shined on her. Flash bulbs pop and the room erupts into applause. But all that seems to exist in this moment… is her.

Billy enjoys the perfect view of her from where he stands beside Feldman by front doors. She’s wearing her hair in an elegant updo with roses pinned into her low bun. Her gold floor length gown cascades around her like a sparkling waterfall, flowing over each step of the staircase as she and her father begin to descend arm in arm. The dress is modest, with long sleeves and a v-neck that doesn’t show off too much. But the gold fabric gathers at the waist in a way that accentuates her lovely figure. Billy can’t help but bristle at the thought of all the young men who will get to dance with her tonight and rest their hands on the soft curve of her waist.

But when her eyes meet his from across the room - however briefly - all his jealousy and longing melts away in an instant. 

Billy spends the rest of the evening at his post but finds himself craning his neck each time the door to the hotel bar opens, on the off chance that he will catch a glimpse of her in her beautiful gold dress. He thinks he does once or twice, but he can never be sure. 

The night wanes on and Billy begins to yawn. He’s never worked this late before. If he wasn’t here, he’d probably be fast asleep by now. Feldman tries to send him home at half past eleven, but he just shrugs him off. 

“Billy, you’re falling asleep standing up. Go home.”

Billy hums and shakes his head, lifting a hand to his face to rub at his eyes. “Can’t go yet.”

“What are you waiting for, Billy? For me to have to carry your ugly mug home because you’ve fallen asleep on the job?” Feldman’s rising annoyance with him makes him blush.

“I…” Billy stares at his feet. “Could you do me a favor, Feldman?”

Fifteen minutes later, Billy is pacing back and forth in the dark restaurant on the opposite end of the hotel from the bar. The chairs have been flipped and placed atop the tables for the night. The silverware sits, polished and ready for the next day. The curtains are drawn across the floor-to-ceiling windows, with only the softest light from the street lamps outside filtering through them. Only the sconces on either side of the door offer any real light to the room. 

Billy has removed his bellboy hat and nervously sweeps his palm over his slicked-back hair to ensure that not even a single hair is out of place. In his free hand, he clutches a small, wrapped box with such a vice grip that his knuckles have gone white. And he continues to pace and pace and pace while he waits for the restaurant door to open.

When he sees the small crack of light at the door begin to grow and spread across the carpet, he stands at full attention with his hands behind his back. Somehow, his heart begins to beat more quickly than it already has been when she peers around the door. Her furrowed brow softens the moment she lays eyes on him.

“Billy… hi.” She’s smiling, and the light beside the door hits her face in a way that gives her an angelic glow. “Heard you wanted to see me.”

If only she knew just how badly he’s wanted to see her all night. He drinks in the sight of her, looking her up and down. He notices little details that he didn’t see from across the room earlier. The teardrop earrings she’s wearing that match her necklace. The little curled strands of hair that fall on either side of her face. The pink lipstick that’s different from the red she usually wears. He’s sure to be quick about it, not wanting it to seem like he’s asked her there just to ogle at her. 

“You look…” 

“Exhausted?” She jokes, but the sincerity on his face gives her pause.

“Beautiful.”

The lighting may be a bit rubbish for seeing her properly, but even he can tell that he’s made her blush. Her hand flies to her cheek as if to hide her smile. Her eyes fall to the floor. Surely she’s been complimented dozens of times tonight. He reckons - he hopes - that his has meant the most of them all.

“Thank you, Billy,” she breathes, finally pulling herself together enough to respond. “You look handsome, too.”

He’s caught completely off guard. The very air seems to leave his lungs. At first, all he can do is shake his head and let out a nervous laugh. “I’m… just in me uniform…” 

She takes a step toward him and he swallows hard. It still feels so hard to bloody breathe. “But you always look handsome… doesn’t matter what you’re wearing.”

It’s by some small miracle that Billy doesn’t fall to the ground unconscious right then and there. He very nearly drops the gift he’s still holding behind his back. It’s only when he has to fumble to catch it so it doesn’t tumble to the ground that he remembers why he had Feldman have her come see him.

“I… I, uh…” he flounders trying to speak again. “Bout to be off for the night, but, uh… didn’t wanna leave til…” He clears his throat. “Til I gave you this.”

“What?” He sees her eyes narrow suspiciously, although she keeps her lips turned up in a smile.  

Billy takes a step toward her, dotting out his tongue to wet his lips. “Close your eyes… and hold out your hands.” 

She does exactly as he asks, letting her eyes fall closed before she extends her perfectly manicured hands. Into her cupped palms, he placed the little box he’s kept in his locker all night. He’s seen the pile of gifts that she’s received tonight, the big boxes with their shiny wrapping paper and bags tied up with perfect bows. The one in her hands is no bigger than a makeup compact, and wrapped in crinkled newspaper with a paltry, crooked bow made out of twine. It’s hardly the most glamorous gift she’s gotten, probably ever. He almost feels embarrassed as he sees it resting atop her hands.

When she opens her eyes and sees what he’s given her, she doesn’t react in disappointment. Rather, Billy watches her face light up in a smile.

“Billy… you didn’t have to–”  

Billy rocks back onto his heels and offers a little shrug. “I know… but I… I had to get you something for your birthday. You only turn seventeen once.”

She’s holding the little gift as though it’s a delicate baby bird. “Do you want me to open it now?”

“Well, I– I mean, you don’t have to…” What if she didn’t like it? She wouldn’t have to pretend to be grateful if he wasn’t there when she unwrapped her gift.

But his words go in one of her ears and out of the other. She carefully plucks the bow open and unveils the ruby red box that’s been hiding beneath the newspaper. Inside it, she finds a delicate rose brooch. The stem is made out of a shiny gold that matches all the gold accents dotted about the hotel lobby. The petals themselves are white. Billy thinks he remembers the shopkeeper say that it’s porcelain. 

“Happy birthday.”

“Oh, Billy…” she whispers as she admires the brooch.

He saved up for months to buy it for her after seeing it in the window of the pawn shop down the road from his house on his way home from work one day. His mum and dad usually expect him to chip in for necessities now that he’s employed. “It’s your money, Billy,” his mum said to him when he asked if he could keep a little more to save for the brooch. He put away every penny he could after that. What should have taken him six months to save up, he saved in only four. 

“I, uh… saw it and thought of you,” Billy says warmly. “I know how you… like roses and all…” 

She delicately lifts the brooch from its box and lays it flat in her palm to see it better in the light. She turns it over and over again, treasuring every last detail. And all the while, the smile in her eyes shimmers brighter than the sun.

“Billy, this is so… incredible. It’s beautiful…” 

“Yeah…?” He feels a sense of pride, hearing her genuine gratitude and seeing her joy. 

“Yeah.” She finally looks up at him and he felt his stomach flip. “Billy, it’s perfect. I love it. I love it so much…” She reaches out to take his hand and wraps her fingers around his. Her touch is soft and warm against the calloused pads of his fingers and palm. Bloody hell, how many times can he nearly faint in front of her in one evening?

For a fleeting moment, there’s a force that draws them closer to one another. His senses are overwhelmed by the smell of her perfume, the warmth of her hand in his, the sight of her face so close to his. But he’s a bloody idiot as always and stands completely frozen in place. He wants to lean down and press his lips to hers, but his muscles won’t move.

He clears his throat. “Can I… put it on for you?” 

He sees disappointment flash across her face before she pulls away. She’s quick to replace it with a sweet grin, but he knows he’s missed his chance. He’ll be kicking himself for weeks for this. Stupid, stupid coward. 

“Please.” 

His hands are shaking as he takes the brooch from her and fumbles to clasp it to the front of her dress, just below her left shoulder. 

“How does it look?” she asks.

Billy can think of a million ways to describe her beauty in this moment. Not just the way the brooch looks on her, but everything about her. In the end, he smiles crookedly and settles on the one he thinks encapsulates her best.

“Exquisite.” 

Their time together is short as always. Her party can’t go on without the guest of honor and he can finally allow Feldman to send him home now that he’s given her her gift. His mum’s probably waiting up to make sure he gets home safe and it’s nearing midnight, now.

“Billy, we’re leaving for home in the morning,” she tells him as if he doesn’t already know that. “I guess… you’re off tomorrow.”

In any other situation, he’d be glad that Feldman wasn’t making him come in first thing after working such a late shift. But now it means that he won’t be there to see her off like he did the last time. 

“Can I write to you again, Billy? After I get home?” 

“Of course.” His earlier embarrassment at having denied her a kiss is somewhat dulled by the assurance that she wants to keep in touch. “But my handwriting’s a bit rubbish…”

She laughs. “I’m sure it’s fine. I’d… like to see it. Be sure to write back. Promise?”

“Promise.”

Satisfied, she pulls open the door but stops in the doorway. “Thank you again, Billy. For my present. It’s the best one I’ve gotten tonight.” She chews on her bottom lip, lingering on the boundary between the restaurant and the lobby for just a moment longer. She presses her cheek to the edge of the mahogany door, staring at him as though she doesn’t want to go. But eventually she relents as calls of her name echo through the lobby and she is beckoned back to the party.

And Billy watches dreamily until long after the bar door shuts behind her. 

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