#Infinite Reflections

[wanderrealms]

Visited Paradox Museum in Stockholm. My favorite pic:

I knew it was going to be creepy

[flowers-of-io]

20, Exo Stranger and Praedyth?

The prompt was something like “I’m with you” if I remember correctly? It’s been so long. But you know what they say about everything that has ever happened still happening now, etc.

TW: unreality. Read on Ao3

THE BLACK GARDEN NOW

Elsie’s hands hurt from tearing through the thicket in places where vines have cut into the artificial padding of her palms. The landscape has fused into a blur of sharp-edged leaves and tangled branches, dark-green and featureless save for the occasional boulder she notices only when her boot catches on it, or a sliver of sky peeking through the canopy. Praedyth is beside her, the only indication of it being his shallow breath and the rustle of disrupted greenery. They have been walking for hours. There is a rhythm to it—sort of a trance, really, her feet hitting the ground and hands tearing through the verdant curtain, Praedyth’s exhale, a branch catching on her cloak, left foot out, hand pushing the vines away, right foot out, Praedyth’s inhale, hand reaching for the vines. If she stopped moving, Elsie thinks, her legs might just give way under her.

They do stop, eventually, at the bank of a radiolarian river running through the dark undergrowth like a sizzling white ribbon. Praedyth all but collapses onto the grass, sighing with relief, and there is an odd, lightheaded sensation when Elsie lowers herself to sit down beside him and falters. She closes her eyes to chase the dizziness away.

When she opens them, she sees movement on the other bank.

For a moment she isn’t sure what she is looking at, and strains to discern the shapes out of the dark-green blur—two silhouettes, smaller and rounder than Vex frames, gesticulating as they walk along the riverbank, their features shifting like vision-spots until they emerge from the shadows and Elsie can see them clearly. She is on her feet before she even realises she has moved.

Alton and Willa are standing there, across the river, just far enough she cannot quite hear their conversation but sees the expressions on their faces. Her sister’s full lips are spread in a cheeky smile, eyes twinkling wryly as she shoots down Alton’s arguments, and he gestures in that sharp, pointed manner of his, a crease indicating deep concentration marking his forehead. They look like they’ve just sauntered out for a smoke, blazers pulled over lab coats, a laser pointer attached to Willa’s breast pocket she goes on to unclip and fiddle with as she talks. Light reflects off the silver tips of Alton’s bolo tie, the same one Elsie gifted to him on the tenth anniversary of his writing debut, with a green agate geode that reminded her of a strange, alien eye.

For a moment, just as long as it takes to reach out her arms and lunge forward, she forgets.

Something grabs the fabric of her hood and pulls, painfully hard, and her vision spins as she is suddenly jerked back—radiolarian river, opposite bank, sky, Praedyth's face as she swirls around with the momentum and almost loses her footing.

“It's not real!” His hands grip her shoulders as if he were about to shake the words into her. They come to her muffled, almost driven out by the hum in her ears.

She screams back, “Everything here is real!”

“This isn’t something you wanna tell yourself to stay sane.”

She struggles against his grasp, finally breaking away and doubling up, knees hitting the soft earth. The world spins again. Her eyes flick back to the opposite bank and there is nothing there—no Willa or Alton, just the edge of the simulation billowing.

Praedyth’s voice comes distant, as if through a wall, “Elsie?”

She bunches up grass in her fists. A needle-sharp feeling of bereavement pierces her when she realises her fingers have no nails to feel the soil under.

“I’m fine,” she musters up and raises her head to look at him, trying to maintain focus on his face; but he is still staring at her with that same expression of concern.

“Elsie, can you hear me?”

“I’m fine,” she repeats—did the words make it through her mouth before, or maybe she just thought they did? She realises his arm has been circling her back only when he removes it.

Her head is pounding as if she’d been hit, a pulse almost like a heartbeat, and Elsie presses both palms to her eyes to rub away the spots clouding her vision. She is still doubled up and on her knees, face close enough to the river’s surface she can feel the cool, prickling sensation of arc coursing through radiolaria.

She should know better. She’s spent lifetimes within simulations, battled thousands of Vex mind tricks. She should be immune to it.

Slowly, she lifts herself up into a sitting position and looks around. They’re still in the clearing. False sunlight seeps through the canopy in diagonal misty beams. In front of her, the radiolarian river sizzles, and to her left Praedyth is kneeling and watching her with concern. She stares at his face, focusing so hard it becomes a nonsensical amalgamation of disconnected features—eyes and nostrils and chapped lips, a chin and a forehead.

What if he’s not real either?

She knows it’s paranoia, the Garden getting to her head, but she cannot curb the spike of fear that makes her stomach coil. She must look mad, because the way Praedyth reaches out towards her is like one would reach out to a wounded cat, carefully and maintaining eye contact—but he slowly puts his hand on hers and lets her squeeze it. It is warm and fleshy under her fingertips. Firm. Real.

“I’m here,” he says. “We’re both here. I’m with you.”

Her fans stutter, but she nods. They sit like this for a minute more, reality rippling and settling around them.

Then Elsie stands up on wobbly legs and reaches for her sword, her arm trembling only a little.

“We should move.”

[strixcattus]

I really enjoy looking at this still from Slay the Princess:

In the midst of all the weird imagery from the first part of the Stranger route, you see for a moment—and it is cut off at the end, so I had to be quick with my screenshot—every route laid out in front of you, paired up as the game does elsewhere, and described, interestingly enough, from what I can only believe is the Voices' perspectives, or perhaps the relationship between the Princess and the Voice of a given route.

Consumption: The Beast (Hunted), the ribcages in the bottom right. Being eaten, alive or half so, is one way or another the outcome you face in the Beast. This one seems to be the least connected to its route's Voice, though I can still see it in a relational sort of way. Betrayal: The Witch (Opportunist), the nail-studded... I can't tell what it is, but it's at the top left. Betrayal on your part is the cause of the Witch's route, and it too is inevitable in some form once you're on that route—the Opportunist is very vocal about it.

Skepticism: The Prisoner (Skeptic), the chains at the bottom. Pretty clear analogue given the name of the Voice, but not to neglect—you reach the Prisoner by taking the blade (distrust of the Princess) but ultimately using it to free the Princess (you take the time to think critically about what you're being asked to do, and decide the Narrator is less trustworthy). Blind devotion: The Damsel (Smitten), the... I can only imagine locks of hair at the top. You reach the Damsel by immediately and wholly assuming she has no ill intentions, an attitude made manifest in the Smitten.

Rivalry: The Adversary (Stubborn), the spikes to the left. The Adversary route is, so long as you embrace it, about your probably-a-metaphor-for-sex-I-mean-the-Eye of the Needle-isn't-even-trying-to-veil-it eternal fight with the Adversary, with the Stubborn in strong support. Submission: The Tower (Broken), the stone columns to the right. One of the most clear-cut "this is about the Voice" examples—the Broken has completely submitted to the Tower's will, even though the player still has a few chances to resist her.

Terror: The Nightmare (Paranoid), the eyes in the upper right. Of course, the Nightmare is all about fear, and the Paranoid is the embodiment of your fear of the Princess—the fear that made you lock her in the basement and the fear that stopped your heart when she broke free. Longing: The Spectre (Cold), the wisps in the bottom left. This one is interesting, and almost made me second-guess my "Voices" reading, as the Spectre herself is clearly a creature of longing—but then what about "Submission?" The Tower is not "submitting" to anything. That's her whole deal. Perhaps this one is connected to your desire for something other than what the Narrator calls the "Good Ending..." or perhaps it has something to do with the Cold's interest in feeling something, which he expresses in a few routes (the Greys being the most obvious).

Pain: The Razor (Cheated,) the spikes at the top. She skewers you, and you die. Over and over again she skewers you, and you die, and it is painful over and over again. I'm not sure I have much to add to this one. Unfamiliarity: The Stranger (Contrarian), the abstract DNA-like strand at the bottom. You reach the Stranger by refusing to interact with the Princess, leaving her an unfamiliar blank slate whose actions you cannot predict and thus fracture into every possible image of her.

And at the heart of it all, an emotion that can only be described as—what? The Narrator doesn't get the chance to finish his sentence before you wake up in the Prisoner's basement, but I'd think the answer is obvious once you've finished the game.

After all, this is a love story.

[ypno-enthusiast]

The appeal of hypnosis is the way it makes things simple. Without any bells or whistles it makes everything narrow down to one thing that matters, one thing that is going to happen to you laid out in plain terms as you watch it unfold.

The nervousness I feel constantly otherwise is swallowed up by the story being woven around me, and it’s lovely.

It’s experience without stakes, with all the sensations of stakes still there to spice it up.

Anything can happen and it will be fine and I can’t be wrong because I am merely a vassal for my narrator. It is all meant to happen as it does, so it will.

[erros429]

we as a society need to talk about how most of yall will only care about queer love if there’s a white person involved. not that this doesn’t extend to cishet couples too because of course it does. but there are far too many white queer people that think they’re exempt from racism just because they’re from a marginalized group and that’s a conversation that needs to be had!!!

[elftwink]

one thing thats so interesting about being a vegetarian is you get to hear all about everyones hypothetical activism that they care about very deeply when talking specifically about your diet and why it's stupid, but literally will never bring up ever again in any other context

[chronicsheepdrawing]

A Pokemon Trainer and some regional forms based off me and some friends' Pokemon Infinite Fusion run.

I know regional forms don't have their own titles but I decided to come up with some anyway.

[omgkalyppso]

[Content ID: art of an original character and Astarion from Baldur's Gate 3. On the left, the original character is visible from waist up as they are seated out of frame. They extend their arm closer to the audience so their fingers touch Astarion's stomach and their arm farther from the audience behind his back. The original character is topless, with long hair pulled back over pointed elven ears. Their eyes are closed and they have a slight smile. There are two puncture wounds on their neck, with blood dripping down. There is a smudge of red, seemingly blood, in the shape of lips on the corner of their jaw, indicating a previous kiss. On the right, Astarion is standing, but bent forward. He extends his arm closer to the audience across the original character's forearm, holding at the elbow, and his arm farther from the audience disappears behind them as if in an embrace. His face is scrunched up in a kiss against the original character's forehead. His lips are stained with blood. He is wearing his usual camp outfit. /End ID]

I received this wonderfully soft and intimate couple sketch commission from @ghostwise of my high elf tav oc Étoile and Astarion. I'm in love with their shapes and the flow of Étoile's hair and Astarion's curls and the wrinkles of his face — as well as their jaws!? Just everything.

I was trying to decide on one of three poses for this commission and I'm glad I picked this one. That it is a sketch makes it feel dreamy, I think. Something for the elves to revisit in reverie years down the line.

[elendsessor]

actually the worst takes for any sega owned property come from yakuza.

there’s a ton of themes surrounding how you can always make steps to improve yourself and atone for past actions, start over, and find reasons to live no matter how difficult life gets.

but if your take away from any of the games is organized crime is cool or that the series is about romanticizing crime or just plain using it to fuel the fetishization of japan/japanese culture please don’t play any game about morally questionable things or anything from japan ever again.

[everymadara]

Chapter 661

[arolesbianism]

Welcome to the “they’re just like me fr (derogatory)” club featuring no color because I would rather die than draw Sif with color

[justafriend-ql]

This is the problem I will face for the rest of my life. NEVER LET ME GO Episode 10

[thepursuitofunderstanding]

The decisive question for man is: Is he related to something infinite or not? That is the telling question of his life. Only if we know that the thing which truly matters is the infinite can we avoid fixing our interest upon futilities, and upon all kinds of goals which are not of real importance.

Carl Jung

[angel---eater]

i constantly wanna talk about how hal being sprited into ARquius could be viewed as a forced-detransition-through-The-Game by way of his name reverting back to AR but i dont know how to word that like at all rn

[kaftan]

“Now the rules we’re stipulating have changed. No killing. Cross that line and we kill you.”

Taylor’s logic is so beautiful and sensical and flawless

[paranorahjones]

wait stop now i am seeing Christ-figure parallels in Clark Kent in that he becomes known as a man capable of nearly infinite good and the people close to him love him and know his heart, but there is a rather large subsection of the populace who immediately see him as a threat and want him eliminated at all costs.