#Metal Master Products

[handmadehazefromtheheart]

Hey! My partner, @ablondpanda, is setting up to start providing mixing and mastering services online. They're also planning on providing things like drum tracks and more. (Stay tuned.)

If you or anyone you know (or any community + tag I haven't included?) could use some help in this regard, please share and/or support them!

[nightolmaster]

Solid Snake. Gotta love the Hexagons because seeing that as a kid was diamonds in my eyes. (Well, one of the games.) The last time I draw Snake was around 2020? That was only Big Boss Snake.

[drondskaath]

Primordial Serpent | Enlightenment Through Impurity | 2023

Canadian Black Metal

[ottspot]

A Brief History of the Previous Metal Gear Solid Collections, Because Why Not

Over the past few console generations, people have had a number of ways to play the Metal Gear Solid series. While the previous generation was a little lacking outside of Xbox, this current generation will have a chance to experience the first three games once again with Metal Gear Solid: Master Collection Vol. 1. This collection will be available on PlayStation 4, PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X|S, Nintendo Switch, and PC.

Before this releases on October 24th, I thought it would be fun to look back at the collections that came before it. I haven't played every collection so this will only be a history, what they contain, and how they all stack up against each other in the end. With that, read on!

The Essential Collection

The first collection of Metal Gear Solid games to be released was Metal Gear Solid: The Essential Collection for PlayStation 2. This is a repackaging of the original Metal Gear Solid for the first PlayStation, as well as the second and third games. This collection is one of many compilations on PlayStation 2 that came in a big cardboard sleeve, like the Devil May Cry: 5th Anniversary Collection and Grand Theft Auto: The Trilogy.

This collection was released in North America on March 18, 2008, just a couple months before Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns of the Patriots. It was released for people waiting for the game as a way to catch up, or for new players to experience the trilogy before the release. While this is marketed for PlayStation 2, at the time this would be perfectly playable on all PlayStation 3 systems due to its compatibility with the previous two systems.

Each game is packaged in a PlayStation 2-style case, including the first game, and has brand-new cover art. The second and third games don't have any subtitles unlike their previous releases, which makes everything a tad more streamlined. Both are also based on their expanded re-releases in the years prior, although only the first disc is contained with them, so no bonus content is included. Sorry to any fans of Snake vs. Monkey or the original two Metal Gear MSX games.

While this collection is missing some content, overall it was not a bad deal. It retailed for just $30, and compared to how much the games were when they released, it was a major discount.

HD Collection

The next collection to be released was Metal Gear Solid: HD Collection on Xbox 360 and PlayStation 3. They hit store shelves in North America on November 8, 2011 and include HD remasters of Metal Gear Solid 2, Metal Gear Solid 3, and Metal Gear Solid: Peace Walker. The remasters were done by Bluepoint Games, who are known for their outstanding remasters and ports.

An interesting thing to note is that the Xbox 360 version of the collection has Peace Walker on its own disc, while the PlayStation 3 version has everything on the same disc. This could be because of the limitations of the DVD format that the Xbox 360 uses.

While this collection does not contain the first game, the versions of 2 and 3 here are overall much better than the Essential Collection versions. Both games are based on their re-releases on PS2 with updated features, now in 1080p with a 16:9 aspect ratio and a 60 fps target. While 2 is missing its skateboarding mode, 3 has the first two Metal Gear MSX games returning.

Later, on June 12, 2012, the collection would release on the PlayStation Vita. This does not contain Peace Walker, and targets 30fps instead.

This collection was released for $40. Despite having one less game on the Vita, that version was the exact same price. A couple years later, the Xbox 360 version of the collection was made backwards compatible in 2018. Peace Walker was first, on March 13, while the second and third games got added on October 9. The games remain backwards compatible on Xbox Series X|S to this day.

The Legacy Collection

Now, this collection doesn't really have much to it. It's like The Essential Collection but... newer? I guess?

The Legacy Collection is a compilation of most of the Metal Gear Solid games released at the time, exclusively for the PlayStation 3. It released in North America on July 9th, 2013, just seven months before the next entry in the series, Metal Gear Solid V: Ground Zeroes.

This collection contains a download code for the first game and its VR Missions companion, Metal Gear Solid: HD Collection, Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns of the Patriots, as well as the motion comic adaptations of IDW's Metal Gear Solid comic books (consisting of the story of the first two games). The latter is included on the HD Collection disc.

Even if this is just a repackaging of a bunch of games that already came out, this is a substantial release. It released at $50, just $10 more than the previous HD Collection! Having the first and fourth games added, as well as the motion comics, for just that price is a steal.

Reflecting

There's... quite a few of these out there. And it's not going to stop. Oh god, help me.

Naaah, I'm kidding. It's nice that all these collections are being made. More and more people are being exposed to the different stories that Hideo Kojima has made, and these collections are a great way to experience them.

Objectively, I have to say that The Legacy Collection is definitely the superior collection out of all of these for sheer content and value alone. It's the already great HD Collection with more games and content, nothing much else to it.

But will Volume 1 of the Master Collection stand shoulder-to-shoulder with these releases? Will it be even better? Or will it be riddled with so many issues that it'll tarnish Konami's image once again? Time will only tell, and so will my next post.

Next up: Is Metal Gear Solid: Master Collection Vol. 1 Konami's Renaissance or Their Downfall? - Review

[kursedaudio]

"Skeleton Witch" by Centaure

https://www.bandlab.com/centaure_

Black thrash nastiness from Centaure - follow the bandlab link for the full song!

Mixed and mastered by Kursed Audio: https://www.fiverr.com/kursed_audio?public_mode=true

[clarionglass]

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine? 

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait! 

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him. 

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs. 

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look. 

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace. 

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign. 

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm. 

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity. 

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor. 

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief. 

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling. 

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!” 

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him. 

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage. 

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps. 

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break. 

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope. 

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still. 

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed. 

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

[vexwerewolf]

The thing is, D&D is not a game.

I know that sounds insane, but hear me out: D&D is not a game, it is a games console. You don't actually "play D&D." You play "Dragon Heist" or "Tomb of Annihilation" or "Ghosts of Saltmarsh" or "your GM's homebrew campaign" or "the plot of Critical Role Season 1 reconstructed from memory" on D&D.

For quite a long while now - possibly literal decades - D&D hasn't even been the best games console, but it's been "the one everyone knows about" and "the one my friends have" and in fact it's "the one whose name is almost synonymous with the entire medium of TTRPGs," like how "Nintendo" or "Playstation" could just mean "games console" to people who didn't understand games consoles. They might not have heard of a "tabletop roleplaying game," but most people have heard of "Dungeons & Dragons."

For this extended metaphor, D&D is Nintendo back in the 90s, or Playstation in the 2000s. Sometimes you say "oh let's go to my house and play Nintendo" or "c'mon dude I wanna play Playstation" but you're not actually playing Nintendo or Playstation, you're playing Resident Evil or Super Mario Bros or Jurassic Park or Metal Gear Solid or whatever on a Nintendo or a Playstation.

Now, this metaphor is going to get even more tortured, but remember how when the PS2 and the original X-Box came out, they used a standardised DVD format, but the Nintendo console in that generation, the Gamecube, used discs but they were this proprietary tiny little disc format that they had control over? That essentially meant that it was really difficult to make third party titles for the Gamecube that did literally anything that Nintendo didn't want them to do, and also essentially gave Nintendo an even greater ability to skim money off the top of any sales?

So that must've seemed like a smart business decision in their heads. But the PS2 and the X-Box used DVDs. This was a standardized format which gave Microsoft and Sony way less control over who made games for their consoles, but that actually turned out to be a good thing for gaming, because it meant that the breadth of games that you could play on their consoles was massively increased even if some of them were games Microsoft and Sony didn't really approve of. (Also it's worth nothing that the PS2 and the X-Box could just play DVDs, which meant if your household was on a budget, you didn't need a separate DVD player - your games console could do it for you! This was actually a huge selling point!)

What Wizards are currently trying to do now is kinda-sorta the equivalent of Sony suddenly announcing that the PS5 will only accept a proprietary cartridge format they hold the patent on, will control the content of and charge money for the construction of. This possibly seems like it could be a moneymaker in your head because you hold market dominance (apparently the PS5 has 30 million units shipped compared to X-Box Series X 20 million units) and so many people make games for your console, but what it actually means is game devs and publishers will abandon your product. If it takes so much more work, the scope of what they're allowed to do is so much more limited and they're going to make less money off of it, they just won't bother. They'll go make games for the X-Box or PC instead.

To use another computer metaphor, D&D is Windows - it might not be the best system but it's the system most people are familiar with and so it gets the most stuff made for it, but there's is an upper limit on the bullshit people will take before they decide fuck it and get an Apple or learn how Linux works.

TTRPG systems are a weird product because you're not selling people a game, you're selling people a method to play a game. All the actual games are created by the community - even prewritten campaigns needs to be executed via a game master. Trying to skim money off the community will mean they'll eventually give up on you.

[absolutebl]

Best 23 of BL 2023 - Quirky Awards

SHOCK & AWE AWARDS

1. Biggest BL surprise of 2023:

The last 3 months of 2023 in general got my biggest WTF award.

GMMTV fielding OffGun AND TayNew in the same quarter while also airing Last Twilight (arguably one of their best BLs ever)

That they ALSO optioned 3 JBLs

That there's a high heat omegaverse BL staring Pavel

That there were 20 BLs airing and none of them Korean.

With 5 VAMPIRE BLs announced for next year

But my prize in this category goes to My Dear Gangster Oppa.

It's just crazy:

Thai talent, Korean money + IP (this is adapted from a manwha) airing on a Chinese channel (iQIYI). Plus it was GOOD and made smart reuse of a pair who richly deserved it. I'm delighted by the eclectic insanity of this production. And wonder if any other film genre could even do anything like this.

2. The “that country did WHAT?” award:

The 8th Sense from Korea?!

I mean, seriously?! Dealing with metal health, suicide, darkness, therapy, age gap, & first time love BUT FROM KOREA? And then openness and casual boyfriend physical affection? What's next? An actual hard fought coming out narrative with an HEA? Gay domesticity and families?

Careful Korea, you'll strain something. Possibly your own culture and film industry.

I should stop having expectations of Korea, they keep surprising me.

Runners up: Korea letting OnlyOneOf do Bump Up Business not to mention that OmegaX thing. AND Korea adapting Why R U? What are you up to, Korea? Qua? Is this a coded message? Should we send help? Do you need snacks?

3. Biggest casting whoa! where did you come from? award:

GeminiFourth in My School President.

Seriously? Babies what? How did GMMTV find you? How do you exist? How is BL this lucky?

4. That studio did WHAT now? award:

GMMTV putting EarthMix into Moonlight Chicken.

And then doubling down with G4 as the damn sides.

Fucking genius.

5. I’m sad you were ignored award:

Destiny Seeker.

It's just a really fun little Thai pulp, the pairs were good, silly dialogue, plus consent and other good rep. I enjoyed it. No one talked about it AT ALL.

6. 2023 BL That Actually Made Me Lose My Mind Award?

Laws of Attraction. -The casting, the crazy story, the soapy drama! But specifically: Film playing Charn - the range of his smiles alone. GLORIOUS

I mean I Feel You Linger in the Air also sparked something in me, but LoA drove me actually nuts.

NARRATIVE AWARDS

7. Best story 2023:

La Pluie

I know, you're surprised, right? At the time I didn't chat much about it but I really enjoyed the discourse others were having. I love anything that really examines the fated mates (soulmates) trope and the idea of "the one". What a clever way to do that. (This is one reason UWMA is my favorite Thai BL.)

This one reminded me of the way Color Rush approached allegory and that's no bad thing. Such an impressive little piece.

8. Best narrative structure 2023 award:

Unintentional Love Story.

I know this may seem a simplistic pick. But I love the tidiness of this no frills contemporary romance, how the culture of work and personal ethics and corruption fight against the main character's affection and integrity. Poor baby boy is driven into a corner and then punished for it. But it is punishment he feels he deserves, and so it is up to his (now) ex to figure out what went wrong and why.

It's just great. I love it when no one is stupid or wrong, it's just impossible circumstances and unintentional love deeply felt.

9. Best 2023 dialogue (script) award:

Jun & Jun

Never before has Korea laced a BL with that much perfectly executed innuendo. It was a master class. I didn't know you could be that lascivious in Korean, quite frankly. Plus the way the 2 Juns constantly seamlessly transition between formal register (work, public - where they are boss/employee) to informal register (when they are alone and age mates + childhood sweethearts).

Beautiful to hear and watch.

10. Favorite scene 2023:

The dub con scene in I Cannot Reach You because I AM TRASH for an out of control seme. I'm sorry I just AM.

I have said it before, I will say it again, NO ONE DOES THIRST like Japan. And when that thirst bubbles over, it is heart-clenching and very hot.

11. The most rewatchable BL of 2023 award:

Our Dating Sim

That scene where they lie on the floor + the stolen kiss + giggle? Come on, it should be on comfort repeat in war rooms. It could bring world peace.

ACTORS & CHARACTERS AWARDS

12. Best performance of a queer actor in a leading role, 2023:

Fluke in Make a Wish.

It was fun to see him as an irreverent immortal and while I love OhmFluke I also really enjoyed this new pairing. It was a genuine pleasure to watch.

13. Best pining 2023:

The moot pining in Tokyo in April is...

Boys, seriously? Japan must you destroy us like this? Hurts so good.

14. Best wingman 2023 (The Namgoong Award)

Tiw from My School President

I mean, come on, of course it's him!

(Also can you believe Mark went on from this to do fricking Only Friends!? To Last Twilight! Come on GMMTV GIVE HIM A LEAD!)

15. Biggest OMG I LOVE you boys together, YAY!

Dimpled McMafia & Feral Bunny Foo Foo from Kiseki Dear to Me.

They were feral for each other.

We were feral for them

It was a whole delightful THING.

16. Most unexpected return of a BL pair? award:

The Private Lessons pair showing up in Love Class 2.

I know it was only a cameo, but SERIOUSLY? Thank you SO MUCH Korea! A big studio picking up a Strongberry pairing? I love you.

Seriously tho between them, Taiwan & Korea tried for ALL THE CAMEOS this year.

17. Well aren't you two just the prettiest? award:

NetJames in Bed Friend.

Need I say more?

18. LIFETIME ACHIEVEMENT AWARD

Bah Vinh in Vian & Mr Cinderella 2. I did like either show but I loved him in them. Especially the make outs.

Yes you have chemistry with all the boys in Vietnam and you kiss beautifully. But it's okay now honey, you have the crown. Relax, you're stressing us out.

RANDOM PICKS

19. Favorite Linguistic Moment of 2023:

Our Dating Sim

Caught in the act by the elevator scene. OMG it's so funny. They're being such boyfriend shits to each other, and to be caught in the act by THAT character, and try to manifest formal language whole cloth? Hilarious.

Honorable mention to War Peanuts in Destiny Seeker.

20. Biggest disappointment of 2023:

You Are Mine

Seriously Taiwan, AGAIN you disappoint me with an Office BL? You're Taiwan, land of offices and suits. This should be YOUR SETTING TO WIN. And yet... argh. I mean it wasn't bad. But it wasn't good either. Stop it Taiwan, do better.

Runners up? Between Us, Chains of Heart, Dangerous Romance - this was a HOTLY contested category.

+ 2 Winners in the sub-category of FUCK YOU FOR THAT ENDING award:

The Director who Buys Me Dinner - I mean this nicely but: you have your lane now Korea, stop hurting us, that's Japan's responsibility and they do it better.

I Feel You Linger In the Air - I'm just hugely disappointed. Thailand ALMOST got its second 10/10 from me, but that damn ending.

Argh.

21. Best Wardrobe/Prop Use 2023

The shower of packaged bedsheets in My Personal Weatherman

Amazing. Brilliant. No notes.

22. Best Queer Rep 2023

Chot in Step By Step

In fact, all the queer characters in this show were treated with great integrity.

AND props to this cast for refusing to do fan service. GOOD FOR YOU! Fuck those sasang wankers.

Runners up? The found family cast of Love in Translation and the Rainbow Rice Cakes in The New Employee.

23. Best Meta Trope call out

Tin Tem Jai

Come on, what a zinger, but at themselves (and Taiwan)

Final question: which of the 23 was the hardest for me to pick?

Honestly? Question #1 this year. But also question #20.

(Last year: 2022's Version) 

Remember I only pull from shows that were completely finished by the end of 2023. Or The Sign probably would have taken multiple categories. But it will fall into 2024 offerings.

(source)

[dearanakin]

trust you - Anakin Skywalker x f! reader

Summary: You work as a tech for the Jedi Temple and end up having to fix Anakin's robotic arm, once again. He starts having trust issues when she and his son, Luke Skywalker, become close to each other.

Warning: Angst, hurt, mentions of injury, cursing | Ps: Luke is his only child in this story. Anakin doesn't become a Sith (for now hehe)

Word count: 1.7k

*

Anakin arrived in the tech room with a frown plastered over his face, as always. His cheekbone was bloody and his metal arm was loose as well as malfunctioning.

She was sitting on her table, writing down on a piece of paper when his name was announced. She turned her head around and watched as he silently sat down on a chair across from her. One of her droids excused itself, leaving them both alone.

Anakin had his blank stare at some random point in the room, not bothering to look at her, who dragged the chair closer to him. (Y/N) gently grabbed his metallic arm, looking at the prosthetic.

"What happened this time?" She asked, trailing his limb. He still didn't look at her, or even mentioned to do so. "Tough assignment today?"

He sighed, rubbing off the dripping blood from his chin as he tried to close his fake fist. The motion failed, and he pulled his fingertips as he's supposed to feel the touch.

"Got a blast shot on it" His husky voice was almost a whisper, she nodded. When (Y/N) looked at again, she noticed how tired he looked. He had bags under his eyes and his forehead seemed to have more wrinkles to it.

She nodded and got up looking for her tools. It wasn't actually strange for her to fix his arm, because this wasn't her first time doing it. Maybe it wasn't even her first time seeing him coming back from a mission all beaten up.

Sometimes, he would look less upset or mad. But it was hard to decipher how he was feeling because Anakin was a pro at hiding his emotions ever since he lost his love interest. Perhaps having Luke around him would make him seem less disturbed, but also, having a kid wasn't easy for him.

(Y/N) took a closer look and noticed the robotic articulations were almost melting. It was going to take a while and she was afraid of telling him the bad news. Most people are always feeling intimidated by him, especially by the way he looks at everyone.

She let out a quiet sigh, catching his attention anyway. Since he became a stronger Jedi, his hearing had improved a lot. "What?"

It was the first time Anakin actually looked at her, wondering just what the fuck happened now. Slowly lifting her gaze at him, she gathered all of her courage to speak up.

"Your robotic articulations are "injured". And we're going to need some time to fix it, I'm sorry". She gave him a sympathetic look, to which he scoffed and shut his eyes.

"How long?" His voice carried some sort of rage and (Y/N) saw him making a fist with his other hand.

"Uh, we don't know. But I'll make sure it won't take too long".

Anakin grunted and ran his fingers between his hair. It was quite hot to see him like that, she thought to herself. At the same time, (Y/N) scolded herself for even thinking of something like that.

He didn't look at her when he released his fingers from his curls. "I'll give you a day".

While detaching his faux limb, she tried not to roll her eyes. He was always giving orders to people, not ever caring who they were. "We'll try our best Master Skywalker", she said bluntly.

(Y/N) placed the robotic arm above another table and reached for a first aid kit. She approached the man cautiously while holding a wet cotton. Anakin, who finally looked at her after snapping out of his reverie, furrowed his eyebrows when he saw what she was doing.

(Y/N) gently placed her hand on the Jedi's cheekbone, who remained still as she wiped the almost dried blood from his face. Anakin didn't flinch, even though he felt his skin burn from the contact with the stinging product.

He closed his eyes tightly to avoid eye contact with her, he didn't want to show any fragility at that moment. He was forced to face (Y/N) in front of him anyway, when she walked away to throw the material in the trash.

"You should get some rest, Master. Take this as an excuse to cool off for a bit". (Y/N) gave him an ice pack for his wound, smiling at him.

Anakin stood up from his chair holding a serious expression on his face while nodding. "Yeah, thank you".

He left the tech room without looking back. She scoffed. It was his thing to be the least polite ever and not even look at anyone.

(Y/N) considered it a win having caught his attention twice that day. He never does that. Not ever since he lost Padmé anyway.

*

Anakin

Luke came running straight to me as soon as I got to the loft. He was doing his homework with C-3PO before I arrived.

"Daddy!" He shouted as his small arms hugged my legs. "Your arm is missing, what happened?".

Little guy never failed to actually notice things. I crouched down to stay on his level and messed up his hair. "Dad was on an assignment, and it got shot with a blast".

He frowned for a second before messing my hair back. "Hey, little one!"

Luke started laughing as he ran back to the Droid, hiding behind him. "Are you alright, Master Skywalker? Do I need to contact the medical bay?"

I shook my head and flopped down on my bed. "Thank you, 3PO. I just need some rest".

The Droid nodded and walked back to the table, so my son could finish his homework. I sighed, it was weird to have a missing limb. It has been so long, I don't even remember how it felt like. I could still feel my ghost fingers moving.

I felt a throbbing pain on my cheekbone as well as my ribs, making it harder for me to breathe properly. My single hand went straight to my hair as I ran through it nervously.

I tried to dial down the stress, but couldn't even keep my eyes shut for what felt like half an hour. Luke had left the loft with C-P30 for whatever reason, which made me feel relieved. I didn't want my kid to see me like that.

"Fuck", I muttered under my breath. I wasn't sure I had painkillers lying around, and I didn't feel like going to the medical bay for an appointment.

I only found a bottle of liquor and decided to pour some into a glass. The strong taste burned my throat, and it hit my stomach briskly. If that doesn't numb the pain, I would have to drag myself out of the house. It was enough already I didn't have my metal arm, I wouldn't want to deal with that excruciating pain.

I didn't realize I had laid my head down on the kitchen countertop. The muffled sounds coming from my door woke me up, and I quickly grabbed my lightsaber, holding it next to me.

It was already dark, and only then I noticed Luke wasn't there. He wasn't watching TV or playing with his toys. Nor was he trying to sneak on me looking for my weapons that he fancied.

My fingertips became cold as I carefully walked towards the living room, still hearing low whispers. The giggling made me drop my shoulders and put down my lightsaber when I realized it was Luke.

"Luke! What the hell were you doing out? It's dark" My voice came out louder than I intended, and it scared him. He was using both hands to hold (Y/N)'s left arm, like he was trying to drag her inside.

"I'm sorry, Master Skywalker. He went to the tech room with 3PO. He wanted to see your arm". Her voice sounds apologetic and a bit apprehensive, even.

I crossed my arms in front of my chest, watching as Luke reluctantly let go of her. "Sorry, dad. I just wanted to see how your arm was. I asked Miss (Y/N) to show me around as well, and 3PO said it was ok if she watched me".

"I didn't mean to bother, I'm really sor-" I cut her off before she could even apologize. My gaze met his and he nodded, knowing he should go to his bedroom.

"You should've brought him right away. He's not supposed to be out when I'm not with him". (Y/N) bit her lip and brought her hands together. "Don't do that again, please. Or I won't let him go near you".

She got taken aback, her eyes met the floor as she crossed her arms. "I really am sorry. I didn't know". I could barely hear her voice, it felt like she had a lump in her throat.

All I did was nod and watch as she turned her back to me and walked out of my door. I was about to make my way to Luke's room, when I found him propped up on the door stop, looking at me with fear.

"Buddy, I said you should only stay with C-3PO" The boy looked down at his feet and sniffed.

"But I wanted to look. I wanted to see how your metal arm is. It's pretty cool, by the way! Dad, don't be mad at her. She was nice to me, and she stayed with me the whole time!" He pleaded, he had his small hands holding the hem of my under tunic.

I released a drained sigh and sat close to Luke. "You can't trust everyone, Skywalker. It's a different world out there, we need to watch ourselves".

I didn't want him to trust anyone, I didn't need to see him trust every person who's nice to him. I've been there before, I know what it was like. I lost my girl. I trusted someone and I got stabbed behind my back.

I don't want Luke to be like me. I know who I became after losing Padmé. And I can't trust anyone anymore, either. I have issues trying to trust Obi-Wan again.

And more importantly, I don't want to fall for someone and lose them again. Because at some point, it always happens. 

[lesbianrobin]

lesbianrobin fic scraps #5: you construct intricate rituals to be lifted by other men

"You do know that you have curly hair, right?"

"Uh, yeah," Eddie says, yanking a brush through his hair and wincing at the ripping sound.

"So you're destroying it on purpose? It's, like, a metal thing?"

"Huh?"

"Do you even use conditioner?"

"I didn't invite you here so you could heckle me in my own home."

Steve leans against the front door, all casual like he hangs out in Eddie's living room all the time. "You didn't invite me here, I came to pick you up and you weren't ready. Also, I'm not heckling," Steve says, "Just observing. You don't, do you?"

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” Eddie says, “It’s called two-in-one shampoo and conditioner, asshole.”

Steve lets out a noise that's halfway between a groan and a gasp. "You're joking."

Eddie raises an eyebrow.

"Oh my God, you're not joking," Steve mumbles, eyes wide.

Eddie drops his hairbrush on the coffee table and grabs his keys. "Didn't realize I needed perfect hair to ride in Steve Harrington's fancy car."

"No, but you do need shoes."

Eddie looks down.

"Oh," he says. "Yeah, that would probably help."

-

"After this party, you and I are going to the store and getting you some real shampoo and conditioner."

Eddie's still tying his right shoe, seated in the passenger seat of Steve's BMW. "I shudder to think what overpriced garbage you consider the baseline for hair-care products."

“Whine any more and I'm buying you leave-in, too.”

“What's leave-in?”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve says mournfully, looking up at the sky as if asking the man himself to lend some strength before starting his car.

Eddie observes as they pull out of the trailer park. “So, O Great Master of the haircare arts, how did you acquire such knowledge on the demands of curly hair?”

“Did you miss when people called me 'The Hair' for four years?”

“Your hair isn’t curly.”

“What, I’m not allowed to know things?” Steve sounds agitated, and he looks straight ahead at the road, not even glancing at Eddie a little bit as he speaks.

"...Oh, there's a story here!"

"No, there's not."

"The lady doth protest too much," Eddie sings, leaning close to Steve's face. Steve glances at him, though he looks back to the road quickly, shoving Eddie back toward his own seat without looking at him.

"Don't laugh."

"I won't, swear on my life," Eddie lies.

"Alright… so, you know Lucas."

"Yes."

Steve sighs. "Well, you've seen me fuck with Dustin's hair, right? I do it to Max and even Mike sometimes if he doesn't look like he'll bite me, and Lucas, he used to have, like, shorter hair, so you could kinda give him a noogie and it was, like, whatever, but now he's got the flat top and I didn't know if I could, like, touch it without messing it up, yknow? So I went to the library—"

Eddie bursts into laughter.

Steve slams his hands on the steering wheel. "I knew you were gonna laugh!"

"No," Eddie struggles to say between laughs, "No, oh my God, that's the cutest thing I've ever—"

"I fucking hate you," Steve sulks.

He can just see it, is the thing, Steve walking into the library and ringing the little bell and stumbling over his words as he asks the librarian for help finding books about hair. Squinting at the spines of books, checking out a few, carrying them back to his car and dumping them in the passenger seat with a satisfied grin.

"I had to help Dustin with his hair for the Snow Ball, too, and his is curly, so you know, I started with him back then, and then Lucas, and then I just kept reading, and it was…" Steve shrugs. "I don't know, it was cool."

Steve says it nonchalantly. As if that isn't the most precious thing on planet Earth.

"You're so cute," Eddie says, and Steve rolls his eyes, but there's something there, Eddie thinks, something soft and fond in the slight curve of his lips. There's something.

-

This isn't how Eddie had imagined getting Steve's hands on him, but he really can't be mad about it.

“Alright, alright,” Dustin chants, as Robin hoots and whistles her support.

Someone begins pounding on the table repeatedly.

“Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve!” Lucas begins the chant and Max joins in, followed shortly by Robin and Dustin. Mike looms over Eddie with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

“No pressure, Harrington,” Eddie says.

“Man, shut up,” Steve replies, and starts to push.

Astoundingly, Eddie rises.

“Oh, shit,” he says, tensing his body as much as he can. Steve would never drop him, but Eddie might not have the abdominal muscles required to keep himself from toppling off to the side.

The Steve chant gets louder and faster, more hands pounding on tables and feet stomping on the floor. Mike is clearly trying so hard to look unimpressed, but his eyes just keep getting wider as Eddie rises higher and finally reaches the peak, Steve's arms extended as much as they can without locking out, and he holds Eddie aloft for a few seconds, and Eddie wishes more than anything that he could see Steve's face right now. Steve begins to lower him down, and god, this was all over too fast, and Eddie's heart is pounding like crazy, so loud in his ears that it almost drowns out all of their friends' raucous screaming.

“What in the hell is all this racket?”

Eddie startles, almost falling, but Steve digs his fingers in, and holy shit Eddie's going up again, and then he's coming down, and how is Steve this strong?

“Two,” Dustin calls out, “Holy shit!”

As Eddie goes up again, Nancy explains, “Steve said he can bench, like, two hundred pounds or something, and Eddie said he bet Steve couldn't even lift him and he's about one-seventy—”

“One-sixty, Wheeler,” Eddie calls out, and then he's coming back down again and Steve says, “I don't know, feels more like one-eighty.”

“Oh, screw you.”

“Three!”

"...Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve..!"

“Huh.” Mike's dad almost sounds impressed. “Well, keep it down, your sister's trying to do her homework.”

Mike snorts. “Holly's homework is coloring.”

“Hey, don’t knock coloring,” Eddie says. It’s hard to sound normal, with Steve’s hands pressing into his back and thighs, but he’s pretty sure he’s managing it. “It’s a noble and honored tradition, Wheeler, one of humanity’s oldest pursuits. Art is—”

“Four!”

"...Steve, Steve..!"

“—what makes life worth living, after all.”

Steve grunts with effort, making Eddie’s chest seize up, but he rises for the fifth time. Someone says, “Jesus Christ,” but Eddie’s not sure who.

“Mike, maybe you could ask Steve here to take you to the gym sometime.”

“Dad,” Mike groans.

“And five!” Dustin begins to clap as soon as Eddie’s back down. The hooligans abandon pounding on the table to cheer, hooting and hollering with all of the enthusiasm of an adventuring party confronted with a chest full of riches.

“Alright, get off of me,” Steve grunts, and Eddie acquiesces, rolling to the side and leaping to his feet. God, he could scale a mountain right now. Eddie turns to look at Steve, and holy shit, actually, he could not scale a mountain right now, because his heart would explode. Lying on his back, face slightly flushed, arms splayed out and hair messy, Steve looks utterly obscene. To be fair, Steve always looks obscene, but Eddie can still feel the phantoms of Steve's hands pressing against him, and he holds a hand out without thinking. Steve takes it, leveraging himself up in a way that nearly has Eddie toppling down onto the floor next to him, but they manage to both stay standing.

"What do I owe you, again?"

"You guys forgot to actually bet anything," Dustin says helpfully.

"Shit," Steve sighs, letting go of Eddie's hand to put his hands on his hips.

"Maybe you could get me that hair crap you were talking about earlier."

"I win, and my reward is that I get to buy you things?"

"Yep," Eddie says. He can feel himself smiling, so wide that it's almost embarrassing, but he can't help it. Steve is smiling, too.

Steve eyes his hair, and apparently he's distressed enough by what he sees to sigh and say, "Shit, alright. But you have to use it exactly how I show you, asshole."

Eddie puts one hand on his heart and the other in the air. "Scout's honor."

[witchwrestler]

I Eat Boys

warnings // Jason being a creep but that's literally it

summary: 10 things I hate about you inspired little blurb bc I got bored

note: reblogs are appreciated and encouraged!! if you like this i will gladly do another part, this was v fun to write !!!

part 2

☆ 🎸 ☆

You'd always been what most in the small shoebox town of hawkins would call a "feminist bitch", and according to most of the men who ask you out as a joke in the hallways, you've been more rageful than usual. You had one boyfriend during your high-school career thus far. It was freshman year and the product of being told that if a boy was being mean to you, surely that means he likes you. It ended after four months, after his failed attempt at getting in your pants.

It took you much longer than you'd like to admit to heal from that fiasco, and when you had finally declared yourself happy again, you cut your hair short, bought a pair of doc martens you'd always wanted and decided you would swear men off for a while. Not to say they were even approaching you, it seems the moment you had grown into yourself and stopped caring, men wanted nothing to do with you.

That is, until a very cold and rainy saturday. You had gone to the record store across from family video to buy the new metallica 'master of puppets'. As per usual the music blaring from your beat up jeep was some form of loud aggressive feminist punk rock, and as you turned into the parking lot, what seemed like the entire hawkins cheer team parked next to you. Too fast you thought, their happy Duran Duran playing selves turned into four cheerleaders looking at you like you were deranged. You scowled back at them and walked into the record store.

You spotted the metallica immediately and walked over to the metal section.

Only you weren't the only one grabbing the cassette, right as you very nearly got your hands on it, a pair of silver-clad fingers snatched it. You looked up, shooting a glare at him. He had long curly brown hair, the sickest dio tour shirt on, a guitar pick hanging on a chain around his neck and chains hanging from his jeans. This is the first time you had felt almost upstaged by a man, you think to yourself before speaking. "I really thought I was the only one who liked metal in this shitty town, do I have competition now?" You say, leaning forward over the display separating you. He looked at you a moment, a smile on his face, "it would seem you do" you smile back at him, and grab another cassette from in front of you before walking to the front to pay.

As you leave you turn back around, finding him still standing at the metal section, his eyes meeting yours again. "I am jealous as hell of that dio shirt, by the way." You say, walking out to your car.

The rain had stopped but it was still chilly outside, so you pulled your brown leather jacket closer to keep warm. You hadn't noticed that someone was following behind you until they whistled at you. You turned on your heel, immediately angry. Jason carver and his raging case of dickface disease stood before you, walking towards you like he was entitled to you or something.

" Carver, if you don't walk away right now, I'll kick your sorry ass," you say, backing slowly towards your car and crossing your arms. "A girl? kick my ass? keep dreaming, hon." He says, inching towards you. "Look, I wouldn't mind a reason to hit you, but I doubt you're gonna wanna go tell your fucking goon squad that you got your ass beat by a woman, huh?" You say, nothing but a blank expression on your face. He gets too close for comfort, a hand brushing your thigh. "so you're a feisty one, hm?" he says, his hand now squeezing your thigh, your fist clenching at his touch. You let out a sarcastic laugh just to say, "Carver, I fucking eat boys like you for breakfast. You're all talk, no bite." a smirk paints his face as he pushes you onto the door of your car, "isn't that why you went to juvie, freak?" he says. Clearly, he thought that the freak bit would cut deep, but you weren't about to let someone like him get under your skin.

"Yeah." That wasn't true. You have never even been near a juvenile detention center. But your last straw had been pulled, and you would rather he be scared of you than have him actually figure you out. "And pathetic, mysoginistic, disrespectful boys like you were my favorite kind." You say, pushing him off of you. His eyes got big with fear, scrambling away as he ran to his car, eyes flicking to you nervously. You let out a sigh of relief "fucking, men." you mumbled under your breath, finishing the walk to your car.

☆

Little did you know, that head of curly hair and hands clad with silver, who grabbed the same album as you, had tried to catch up to you after you complimented his shirt. You hadn't noticed him watch your little scramble. And you hadn't noticed the smirk that grew on his face as he saw you scare carver off. And you didn't know that he had regretted not asking your name, and that now he feared he might never know it.

[rottenpumpkin13]

Something I don't understand about crisis core is how genesis invented apple juice. That means they didn't have apple juice before? No one thought of making apple juice from the dumb apples before it doesn't make sense

I'll say they did have apple juice (humans have been juicing fruit forever), but they didn't have Banora White apple juice.

Bear with me as I go boring amateur science to explain why Genesis is a genius and a master chemist too.

Not all apples have the same density and fruit concentration, making it so that juicing varies according to variety; different apple varieties have different concentrations of food, water and pectin—pectin is a natural component found in fruit that's also used in the food industry to thicken and increase viscosity—think jams, jellies, preserves, etc.

Different apple varieties have varying amounts of pectin. For example, Granny Smith (a type of white apple like Banora White) contains high levels of pectin. Think: low pectin = mushier, easier to juice; high pectin = denser, less juice. Apples with lower pectin are easier to process and generate more juice, which is essential for commercial juice production.

The process of making apple juice is typically the same: there's the selection and washing portion, crushing/pressing and maceration for juice, filtering and then pasteurization (when the juice is heated up and treated to kill harmful bacteria).

All of this changes when it comes to Banora Whites because they grow at random times of the year. The irregular harvesting would make it difficult to ensure the taste, quality, etc., stays consistent. The juicing process would be harder on top of what we're given to understand is already a hard fruit to juice and make good-tasting juice out of, and not worth it on the financial and commercial scale.

That's where Genesis comes in. First he'd have to figure out how to make it so the ripeness for all apples stay uniform for juicing and figure out the correct sugar content of each apple from different seasons, compare them, and see which blend of which apples works the best. If the apples are harvested at different seasons and different stages of ripeness, he'd have to figure out different maturity areas for them to ripen uniformly before juicing, not to mention the storage. Genesis would've used enzymes to standardize the breakdown of pectin and other compounds, ensuring a consistent texture, and he figured out the correct % to use of apples from different harvest times to balance flavors and sugars to have a consistent taste every time.

Apple boy created a uniform recipe/formula for the apple juice based on harvest times, which he would've had to track according to the season, flavor, density content, etc., and tailored the enzyme treatments based on the apple maturity for easier juice extraction since the apple would be hard to juice.

Another thing I noted: The process for pasteurization from what I hear isn't adjusted according to the pectin content, but a detail about Banora White juice is that we always see it in cans, never really in juice boxes (we see posters of it in bottles but the cans are most notable). The packaging material affects the quality, taste, and shelf life of the juice. Canned juice has a longer shelf life compared to juice in boxes because the metal is impermeable to air and light, but canned juice undergoes heat sterilization, which affects the flavor and nutritional content due to higher temperatures used compared to other pasteurization methods.

Definition I ripped straight from google:

While sterilization destroys all the microorganisms and spores present in the food, in pasteurization, a part of the most resistant microorganisms, a part of enzymes and bacteria spores survive. Not carrying out these processes correctly can lead to enormous dangers both for public health and for your canning business.

Pasteurization is generally required for apple juice (I say generally because not all juices need pasteurization) meaning the Banora White juice we see in the game underwent both pasteurization and sterilization. Pasteurization doesn't have as much of an effect on flavor/nutritional content as some sterilization processes which affect taste and can reduce some nutrients.

Not only would Genesis have to figure out the right pasteurization method based on the apple characteristics I mentioned before and the uniform flavor of the juice, but the sterilization process as well.

Another thing: Genesis won first place at the national agriculture awards, which is an award that recognizes contributions to the advancement of agriculture and research in agricultural development. And this child from Banora won first place in processed foods. Iconic.

I'll leave you with the thought of Genesis, believing he's proficient in chemistry and medicine enough to concoct a cure for himself, only to be proven wrong.

[another-lost-mc]

Imagine Vampire!Barbatos tho....

Who else would be his perfect doll master but you? He will cook for you, brush and stylish your lovely hair, dress you up. Treat you like a princess 80% of the time, the other 20% he's feeding from you and letting his dark side take over.

Vampire!BARBATOS x gn!Reader, 1.2k words, nsfw.

Content warnings: canon-typical vampire behaviour, possessiveness/jealousy, pet names, spicy towards the end—it's not really dubcon but it might come off that way.

more from the vampire!au

You feel his eyes on you as soon as you step into the ballroom of Diavolo’s castle. These fancy events always make you feel nervous and out of place. You usually spend the night together before these events so he can help you prepare, but last night you stayed at the House of Lamentation instead as his duties to Diavolo kept him busy.

His bedroom (and yours) are filled with the exquisite clothing he’s bought you, and he sent you instructions earlier with which clothing he wanted you to wear for him tonight. You bathed with the products he gave you too—he claims that the custom recipe he has made for you enhances your natural scent.

(He enjoys bathing you personally so he can massage you with his firm hands while he teases you with gentle touches, a playful reminder of how he'll reward you later if you behave.)

Every accessory you own—the collection of chokers, necklaces, bracelets, and chains he's bought for you—are made with the finest metals and jewels. Your outfits usually compliment your complexion and your eyes; your accessories are a reflection of him instead. The choker around your neck tonight is black and silver and adorned with tiny gemstones the same colour as the tips of his hair.

As you walk around the perimeter of the ballroom, you feel his warm, affectionate gaze linger on you from wherever he's hiding just out of sight. He weaves through the crowd seamlessly at these events, as the demon prince's silent shadow should, but you’ve yet to catch a glimpse of him.

One of the brothers tugs on your wrist and leads you towards the center of the room. Diavolo approaches you suddenly, and Barbatos follows silently behind him.

“You look radiant this evening,” Diavolo says, his voice laced with fondness for you. He respects his friend and your relationship and doesn’t dare touch you. “Don't you agree, Barbatos?”

You’re not sure anyone else notices the flicker of annoyance that hardens your lover’s expression before it's gone. Even you're not sure if you truly saw it when he nods and smiles at you.

“Quite lovely indeed,” he murmurs, but something about his sickeningly sweet tone sets you on edge. The tingling sensation of being watched follows you as you're dragged by your friends onto the dancefloor.

It's barely twenty minutes later that you finally break away from the party and mingle on the outskirts of the room with a cool drink in your hand. There's a sudden feeling of another body radiating heat against your back, and gloved fingers reach around you and gently pull your drink away. He sets it on a table nearby and touches your waist.

"Would you mind accompanying me to the kitchen? I have a small task to complete and would like the privilege of your company.” He’s always so formal to keep up appearances, but you suspect there’s some hidden meaning in his words you haven’t deciphered yet.

(There always is).

He offers you his arm and you leave the party together. His shoulders are stiff with tension as he leads you away from the ballroom, but despite his odd demeanor you're still grateful to spend time alone with him.

The rest of the castle is empty except for the servants carrying out various chores. When you arrive at the kitchen doors, he gestures for you to enter first. There’s a flurry of activity inside as the Little Ds pick up their trays of Demonus and make a quick escape through the servant’s entrance on the opposite side of the room.

You smile and wave at them as they leave, but the door shuts behind you and the lock clicking into place makes you freeze.

“You look exceptional this evening,” Barbatos breathes next to your ear. His gloved fingers caress your cheek and slowly run up and down the curve of your neck. “It's enough to drive me mad,” he confesses, lips brushing your skin just above the choker. He unfastens the clasp and slides the delicate item into his pocket for later.

He kisses the lingering puncture marks he made two nights ago—the skin is bruised and the puncture wounds are still not fully healed. He prefers that you don't use magic or potions to speed up the healing process, so you don't.

(He'd never deny you if you were in true pain or discomfort, but he would prefer to care for you himself than ask you to drink whatever flimsy potion one of your friends might try to feed you.)

“I get the sense that something’s bothering you,” you admit quietly, and he hums. "Do you want to talk about it?" you ask nervously, but when you try to look at him, he holds your chin to keep you still.

"A simple problem requires a simple solution," he mutters to himself. "All I could smell was them on you,” he clarifies for your benefit, and it’s the only warning you have before you’re pushed forward against one of the stainless steel counters. Deft fingers tug at your waist and unbutton the burdensome clothing that gets in his way of touching you. You gasp when cool air hits your bare skin.

No matter what bath products he buys you, it’s not enough to completely wash away the scent of the others you live with. The clothes that hang in your closet don’t smell like him, not like the ones in his castle bedroom do.

The possessive beast inside him seethes with rage others that see you and crave you like he does might think you’re not claimed. You taunted the beast inside him when you walked into that ballroom smelling like so many others but not him.

Even if you weren't wearing the choker around your neck, those healing bites alone aren’t enough to deter those that might try to take you for themselves. You’re his, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure everyone knows that—including you.

“What—what about the party?” you whimpered, overwhelmed by his body smothering yours and the pleasure of his hand exploring between your legs.

He's barely started and you can already smell the musky scent from between your thighs. The evidence he'll leave inside you when he's finished will drip down your legs and paint your skin; you have no doubt the stains will soak through the thin fabric of your pants for the others to see.

His fangs tease the sensitive skin of your neck, lingering higher than his other marks, too high for your choker to hide from view. Slick fingers tease at your entrance and you gasp as one slips inside.

“Everyone will know—“ you stammer, one final plea to remind him that perhaps this isn't a good idea, but his quiet, condescending chuckle interrupts you.

“Precisely, my dear,” he purrs, biting into your neck and groaning as the first pulse of blood coats his tongue. A hand encased in soft leather covers your mouth and muffles your cry as he buries himself inside you with a sharp snap of his hips.

Obey Me! Masterlist

[tavs-tressym]

Delicious Denial - Chapter Nine

(AO3 Link) | Master List | Ko-Fi

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Tav (You)

Word Count: 3770 (approx)

Tags: Fluff, eventual smut, domestic fluff, camp life, slow burn romance, sexual tension (A LOT).

WARNING: References to abuse, graphic descriptions of injury

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A reimagining of the game's events if Tav had zero magical or fighting ability. But she's still pretty fucked up. 👍

(Lots of comforting camp life content)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Did somebody order a random burst of productivity? 🤠

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Nine - Tantrum

“Get up.”

A clank of metal thunks into your bandaged abdomen. Air escapes you and your blurred eyes widen in search of the assailant. You find her. “W-what?”

“Get up.” Demands Lae’zel for a second time, standing proudly above you, paying no mind to your discomfort or exhaustion. You look down and see the weight trapping your legs: A greatsword.

“Why? What’s happening-?” You call out in vain, but she doesn’t waste her precious breath on helping you to understand as she walks away. Are you supposed to follow her? She stops and looks over her shoulder, impatiently waiting for you. You slide the sword off your lap despite the protest of your bruised muscles. “Nnngh!” You sigh with relief and, through great effort, slowly begin to pull yourself up.

“Stop it, you know she shouldn’t be moving, right now.” Shadowheart advises, glaring up at Lae’zel, still hovering her luminescent hand over your wounds. Lae’zel scoffs and rolls her eyes, marching over to pull you up by the scruff of your neck with ease. Hissing with pain, you attempt to push her off, but she holds on strong. To her, you’re nothing but air. Wasted, useless air. She begins to drag you away, picking up the greatsword as she goes. “H-hey!” Shadowheart calls out, reaching out to continue the spell.

Your heels drag in the dirt as you feebly struggle in her grasp. “Nngh-ahh!” The pathetic lump that is your body hits the dirt before her. “What the fuck is wrong with y-ahh!” Another hit to the abdomen from the tossed sword.

“Pick it up.” She glares at you. You glare back.

“If you want to kill me, just do it already.” The forced bravado in your voice wavers slightly.

“Chk...” She responds simply, flicking a stray lock of her hair in the air. She doesn’t ask again. Inspecting her face and the way she grips her own weapon, you realise just how quickly those muscles could tear you apart. And yet, they don’t.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to pick up the damned sword, istik.”

Sighing, you reluctantly stumble to your feet, arms hanging from your bandaged torso. You stand before her, breeches soiled with dirt and blood, bandages corset tight and inhibiting your maximum breath capacity. You heave with the effort it takes to stand and strain to reach the sword below. It’s in your hands, tugging at sinews that scream to your nerves. After you drop it, you glance up at her. She watches you intently, offering no assistance.

“Again.” She commands.

“I-it’s too heavy-” You concede.

“Again.”

You sigh and focus, willing your muscles to push through the pain and eventually, you lift the handle off the ground, the blade scoring the earth below. You grin up at her proudly and you swear, for just a moment, the corner of her lips twitched into the slightest smirk of her own.

The tip of her identical blade points towards you in challenge, her singular, glorious arm outstretched. “Now fight.”

“F-wha-?!”

She charges towards you and attempts a strike, to which you flinch and cower. She stops, inches from your neck. “You have a weapon. Use it.” Peering from behind your bracing hands, you see her making her way back to her starting position. “Again.”

Your eyes widen as her graceful steps seem to dance towards you, beautiful, methodical… Deadly. You struggle with the weight of your weapon, managing to hold it up in time to hear the clank of your connecting metal. She counters with ease, blades screeching as she masterfully choreographs the movement before your eyes. You lose control of it and stumble back as she prepares a new blow. She lunges at you, and hits nothing but the memory of where you used to be.

Looking down at your feet, you almost don’t recognise them as they had worked of their own accord, instinctively dodging her attack. You glance up at her, panting and surprised. She doesn’t praise. She furrows her brow and tries again. Stumbling back, your ass hits the floor, sending a jolt of pain through your aching muscles. Cold, sharp steel grazes your chin and you open your eyes to see the amber fire within hers.

The lines of her blade may as well be the lines of her face, of her body. It isn’t an extension of her. It is her. And you start to think there’s something… Thrilling… About being at her mercy.

“Do not let your guard down. Not even for a moment.” Her fierce glare seeps into your soul. She tilts her head down, allowing strands of her reddened hair to caress her cheeks. She pays them no mind. Her focus is her target. Her focus is you. She lowers her blade and steps back.

“Again.”

------------------------------------------------------

Bruised but somehow not broken, stumbling back to camp never felt so good. Muscles pained but, finally, with purpose.

“What in the hells- Tav?!” Wyll leaps up from his spot around the campfire, rushing towards you to help you stay standing. Looking down at your own legs, inked purple and blue, you wonder how they hold you up, you wonder why you don’t feel it as much as you did before.

Lae’zel, who was following closely behind you, blocks Wyll’s frantic path. Some standing, some sat, all companions turn to face the scene. “Enough coddling. All of you.” She demands, firm and powerfully unyielding.

“Soldier, are you-?!” Karlach moves closer, but is, once again, blocked by Lae’zel’s magnificently crafted form. They stare each other down, neither formidable woman relenting until Karlach flicks her eyes to you, seeking insight.

You nod reassuringly and move to stand beside Lae’zel. “I’m fine, really.”

Your new mentor looks down at you… Approvingly… You think…?

Limping your way to the campfire, you sit beside Shadowheart, whose hand is itching to heal your wounds. But she refrains as you do not ask for aid. You sit there, in pain and loving every sting and pang of it. Astarion finally dares to glance up at you as you close your eyes, lean back on your hands and breathe through your aching. Feeling confident you won’t notice it, his gaze lingers on your neck, the scars he left behind accompanied by new abrasions that are a little too close to them than he’d like. It’s the first time he’s properly seen them since he put them there. They seem to be healing well. He shifts in his seat, unexplainably uncomfortable at the thought of them disappearing into your skin. Your eyes twitch with exhaustion as you begin to pry open. He looks away.

The others take their seats by the fire, occasionally glancing at you with concern. Shadowheart’s seething focus is mainly on Lae’zel though, who is digging into her meal without a care in the world. They lock eyes and you swear you hear a crackle in the air. Gale hasn’t looked up at all. He’s so still… Has he been like this… All day?

“Gale…?” Wyll speaks softly as he sits beside him, placing a comforting hand on his back. You watch as Gale slowly lifts his tired head, not daring to look at you.

“Gale?” You give it a try, maybe he’ll speak to you, if you invite him?

“I…” He begins. “Tav… I… I thought… You were…”

“But I wasn’t, was I?” You cut in dismissively, immediately defensive and irritated that he still speaks to you like a gloved hand, handling porcelain.

He sighs and rubs his face before looking up at you. “Tav, you don’t understand, you could have-“

“But I didn’t.”

“I know, but you could have and it would’ve been all my fault and-“

“But I didn’t. Did I?” You state firmly, loudly, gaining everyone’s attention. You look around, locking eyes with everyone individually, even Astarion. “I chose to leave this camp. I chose to take that risk. I merely invited Gale to come with me. What happens to me is on me, and only me.”

“Tav, you were hurt. That’s on all of us.” Chimes in Karlach, who only suffers further heat from your piercing gaze.

“How many times have I cleaned your blood from your clothes, hmm? How many times has Shadowheart casted a healing spell, hmm? You are all injured, all the time. Why is it so different when it’s me?!”

“Because, unlike you, we can handle ourselves!” Shadowheart blurts out, earning a targeted, furious glare from your eyes.

“Well, fuck that!” You stand up abruptly, trying not to wince at the pain. “Look, I’m not a fighter, I know that... But I’m also not stupid. Having me by your side is going to get someone killed eventually.” You make eye contact with Lae’zel and smile proudly, standing up straight. “From now on, I want to train. And anyone who wants to stand in the way of that can go fuck themselves! Does that sound fair to all of you?!” You look around, daring anyone to speak. Lae’zel grins. Astarion’s mouth curls into a smirk, you don’t know why exactly, but you also don’t care. The rest look up at you, speechless. With a defiant huff, you storm off, not interested in what anyone else thinks anymore.

------------------------------------------------------

“Fucking bullshit-Ugh!” You kick your bruised leg into a tree and clutch it as it aches. The pang fuels your roar of anger as your hands turn into fists and your purple knuckles collide with the bark. “Aaargh!”

“Oh, I do hope you’re not pretending that tree is me…”

You turn to the voice with a fury in your eyes that doesn’t lessen, even as you realise who it came from. “Fuck off, Astarion! I’m not in the mood!”

He pauses, a little taken aback, but not by your anger, but by something else. “So you can speak to me, after all…”

“W-what…?” You say, still panting from your punches, hands still clenched into fists.

“Just glad to have finally been acknowledged, is all…” He walks over to you, no, past you, and examines the tree. There’s not much damage aside from smears of blood from your own knuckles. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“No I haven’t.” And why not lie? You don’t owe him anything. But then he looks at you with the most ‘seriously?’ of expressions and you sigh in defeat.

“Why?” He asks strangely softly as his gaze flicks back to the reddened bark of the tree. You shrug, avoiding looking at him.

“Did I make you uncomfortable? Hurt you?”

“No… I mean, no more than… Intended…” Your fingertips ghost over his mark on your neck. He swipes his thumb through the blood on the tree and admires the colour against his skin.

“Did you enjoy it?” It’s a simple question, infuriatingly so. But, you haven’t felt anything but anxiety about the whole thing since it happened, so how can you answer him? You want to bite back, avoid the question and forget it ever happened… But you can’t, because, for whatever reason, you know he won’t let you. So, you reluctantly search your memory and open yourself up to whatever feelings you remember.

His cold skin on yours, his fangs in your neck, his breath on your ear, the taste of his spit. You feel it all again. You feel your heart beat faster and the pooling between your legs at the thought. Of course, he never properly touched you… But, you touched him. And you suppose it served it’s purpose-… Okay… You really liked it…

You nod. “Yeah, I did.”

His eyes move to fully focus on you now. “Even though you didn’t…?”

“I still enjoyed it…” You look away.

“You did…” He repeats, in a tone of slight surprise and subtle confusion. But, it’s not a question and you’re not about to give him any more than you have to, so you stay quiet. For a moment, he simply examines you, presumably to glean any further insight into your answer. You feel the weight of his gaze and decide to meet it with your own, determined not to let him in. He takes a deep breath and clears his throat, looking away again.

“Your little tantrum earlier was certainly entertaining...” He states flippantly as the grin you know all too well stretches across his face once again.

You scoff. “It wasn’t a tantrum.”

“Darling, the only thing missing from your dramatic exit was a toddler’s stomp.”

You scowl. “I meant everything I said.”

“I know.” He says quickly, without mockery and with confidence. You open your mouth to retort before you realise he’s being sincere, and nothing comes out. “Tantrum or not, I… Admired you… For what you did back there... You stood up for yourself…” You can tell it was a fight to get the words out and you can’t help but wonder why he’d even go to the trouble.

“Thank you…” You say earnestly. He nods and you mirror his exact expression from before, seeking insight.

“Although, going out there with nothing but Gale to protect you, wasn’t your brightest idea was it, dear?”

“Oh, shut up.” You fold your arms and roll your eyes.

He huffs with amusement, holding his hands up in playful surrender. “What? I’m just saying… If you intend to ‘carpe diem’ once again, maybe pick someone more like-”

“Let me guess, someone like you?”

“Me? Oh gods no, darling. I’m not going to valiantly lug your unconscious body all the way back to camp.” You scoff, slightly offended, but mostly amused. “No, no… Someone like Wyll or Shadowheart… Maybe even Lae’zel, since I see you two have found an understanding…?” He pries.

You nod, smirking. “Yeah, I think I might have made her smile once.”

He gasps melodramatically, clutching his chest before leaning in closer. “Now that is admirable.” He murmurs to you with a grin. A grin that is merely inches away. You observe it for a moment before speaking again.

“Why did you follow me out here?” You ask, still smiling.

“I… Well, I…” He pauses, grin faltering and standing up straight as he thinks on his answer. “I was wondering if I could, um… ” He glances at the wounds on your neck.

“Ah… And you thought now would be the best time, huh?” You gesture to your beaten form.

He looks at you guiltily and you almost believe it, he shakes his head. “Yes, of course, you’re right… You need to, um… Save your strength. Forget I asked...” Taking a step back, he looks around, hands absentmindedly tapping his outer thighs.

You try to recall the last time you fed him and remember that due to your injuries, you had taken a couple of days off from your responsibilities to recover. He hasn’t fed since. At least, not from you. “Is it bad…? The hunger, I mean…”

“It…” He sighs. “It’s been worse before... Much worse… I’ll live.” He glances at your neck again, but this time, not with longing. He reaches out his hand. “May I…?” Intrigued, if not a little wary, you nod. With your permission, he brushes his cool fingers lightly over the puncture marks along your pulse. “Do they hurt?”

You shake your head. “Not anymore. They just, kind of, itch, now…”

At your words, he allows himself to apply more pressure to your skin. His hand gently cups the side of your neck and traces the shape of the wounds with his thumb. After his moment of appreciation, he takes a deep breath and places his palm over them. The ice that is his skin soothes the inflamed marks as you gaze up at him, watching the way his eyebrows twitch as he touches you. He sees your eyes, the way they’re locked onto him, and offers a slight smile. It could mean a thousand things, it could mean nothing, you don’t know, but you do smile back.

It’s almost comical, the situation you’ve found yourself in. One month ago you were staring at that crack in the ceiling, the same one you’d stared at for years. You noticed how it had gotten bigger, how it had stayed with you. How it had been there when the tears in your eyes had blurred it, and when you couldn’t muster any tears at all. How it had been there when you were desperate to feel something, and when you wanted to never be touched again. Now, you haven’t seen a ceiling in weeks, only stars and clouds. You think it’s certainly prettier than that crack. But you do miss it’s company. You miss how it watched your wounds heal, how it was a witness to the new ones being created. Now you have wounds, they sting and they ache, but you hate the idea of covering them. You want the world to be your new crack in the ceiling, to witness your pain and your revelry in the fact that it did not break you.

Even the ones that Astarion put there, you see no sense in covering them. Unlike many of the others in your life, you feel no shame in wearing them. Because these were your doing, your choice to make. You cherish the proof of that moment. The moment that you shared something, that it wasn’t taken from you.

“Thank you…” It slips out before you can stop it. His brows cock in confusion, shouldn’t he be thanking you?

“Wh-”

“No, don’t… Don’t ask why… Just… Thank you…” You cut him off, he narrows his eyes at you in inspection. But, then he takes a deep breath and nods, utterly perplexed, but respecting your wishes nonetheless. You can’t help but huff in amusement at his bewilderment.

He rubs his thumb against your neck, his fangs protrude ever so slightly over his bottom lip as it stretches into a smile. You acknowledge them, but what really grabs your attention are the others. The blunt, ‘normal’ looking ones. They’re perfectly aligned into perfect rows. Perfect pearly whites. A contrast to your off-kilter, off-colour bite. Must be those high-elven genes, you suppose… You watch them as they gently press into his lower lip. Then, your eyes flick up to see that you’re not alone. He, too, is watching your parted lips as they slowly relax from your earlier smile.

“You know, if you want to kiss me again, you only have to ask…” He says, not breaking his concentration.

“Oh-er, no I wasn’t-” You say, caught off guard and uncharacteristically flustered.

“Oh, you weren’t?” He steps closer, grinning.

“No, I was just-”

“Staring at my lips for a strangely long amount of time?”

…

Shit…

“Look, it wasn’t like that…”

“Oh, of course it wasn’t, my dear… My mistake…” He places his hand on his chest in a feigned apologetic act. You sigh and look up at him with a firm, almost scolding look, to which he only grins at. “Would it help to know that I haven’t been able to get the idea out of my head, since the last time?” 

Okay, that stops you in your tracks. You go to retort whatever tease he was planning next, but yet again, he has rendered you speechless. He chuckles softly, stepping closer again. “Don’t tell me you’re surprised, darling. We shared a wonderful little moment together… I only want to show you what you missed out on… What I can really do…”

“Missed out on…? What?” You question, genuinely confused, you know you didn’t leave that tent wanting.

“Well, I just don’t feel that you got to experience my…” He takes a deep breath. “Full portfolio of talents…” His eyes glance back down to your lips. “I’d quite like to show them to you, if you’re willing?”

Only in that moment do you realise just how long the air has been trapped inside your lungs, but you can’t bear the thought of breathing it out, because you know just how shaky it will sound. Instead you swallow, eyes locked on his. But his eyes wander, they wander all over your face, taking in every detail of your deliciously stunned expression. He can’t get enough of this, reducing you to little, if any, words. It’s certainly a rarity. And he adores it.

That… ‘Moment’… Was a moment of desperation. One you hadn’t thought to repeat. Certainly not whilst comfortably present in your body. But, you can’t deny the building heat in your core at the thought. The thought of potentially going even further with him than before. But you also can’t deny the pressure in your chest, the kind that makes you feel naked, and not in a good way…

“I…”

He hears your hesitation and removes his hand from your neck, you almost lean into it, not wanting his touch to end, but you stop yourself. He observes you, your body, black, red and blue. “If it’s pain you’re worried about, I can help with that…” He steps closer. “You won’t have to move. A. Muscle…”

Panic? Lean in? Step back. “I don’t know, I need to think about it…” You hate how uncertain you sound. He doesn’t.

“Hmm… Alright, don’t answer now.” He pauses to think for a moment. “Tonight, I’ll stay up in my tent. Once you’ve realised that resisting my charms is futile, come and find me.”

You take a deep breath. “And if I don’t?”

“Darling, I never refuse an opportunity to enjoy a candlelit book and a cup of wine.” That earns a slight smile from you. “And… I’ll gracefully assume that our last… ‘Encounter’… Was just a blip, a momentary lapse in judgement.” His playful grin falters a little. “We can… Forget it ever happened…”

After a moment of contemplation, you nod in understanding. A new variant of pain hits your chest at the thought of him backing off completely, different from everything else you’ve suffered today. And honestly, you’d rather feel the hilt of a sword in your stomach than whatever this is, right now… You need space to mull this over logically, not emotionally.

“Alright… I’ll… Yeah, okay…”

He grins. “Good…” He takes a moment to appreciate your flushed cheeks and the way your eyes struggle to meet his, before stepping back. He looks towards the dim orange light from your campfire, peeking through the trees. “Well, if I don’t see you… Goodnight, darling…”

You nod. “Yeah… Goodnight…”

He glances back at you and smiles before turning on his heel and sauntering off towards camp. You watch his every step and he knows it, purposefully slowing his steps.

He’s gone.

You are alone.

And you have a choice.

…

Shit…

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Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

[blueiscoool]

Missing Pieces of 6th-Century Byzantine Bucket Finally Found at Sutton Hoo

While working at the Anglo-Saxon site of Sutton Hoo in England, archaeologists found the missing pieces of a 1,500-year-old copper bucket imported from Turkey. The bucket, which is at least a century older than the famed ship burial, may provide a window into how people lived in early medieval times.

A team of archaeologists, conservators and volunteers from Time Team, the U.K.'s National Trust and FAS Heritage discovered the metal fragments in late June during excavation and metal-detecting work at Sutton Hoo.

Sutton Hoo is best known for its magnificent seventh-century ship burial, whose 1939 discovery was featured in the 2021 movie "The Dig." But the burial was just one part of a complex of 18 separate burial mounds found near Suffolk in southeastern England, many of which contained jewelry and coins. Evidence of imported goods — including an Egyptian bowl, Eastern Mediterranean silverware and a Middle Eastern petroleum product called bitumen — has also been discovered at Sutton Hoo.

But the copper-alloy bucket, known as the Bromeswell Bucket, predates the ship burial by at least a century. The fragmented bucket, which was found in 1986, depicts a North African hunting scene featuring lions and a dog. It was likely produced in the sixth century in Antioch, Turkey, which was then part of the Byzantine Empire. An inscription in Greek on the bucket reads, "Use this in good health, Master Count, for many happy years," suggesting that it may have been a diplomatic gift.

The artifacts uncovered last month were decorated with figures similar to those on the original find. So the team employed X-ray fluorescence (XRF) — which is used to determine which elements are present in an object and to create a unique elemental "fingerprint" of the artifact — to confirm that the newly recovered fragments are indeed part of the sixth-century Bromeswell Bucket.

"Thanks to closer inspection, we now believe that the bucket had been previously damaged and then repaired," Angus Wainwright, a regional archaeologist in the East of England for the National Trust, said in a statement. "In-depth analysis of the metals suggests it might even have been soldered back together."

Although East Anglia has been occupied since at least 3000 B.C., when Sutton Hoo was in use as a cemetery in the sixth and seventh centuries, the area was relatively densely populated and part of a busy trade network. The Sutton Hoo treasures represent diverse objects, including pagan and Christian artifacts, brought there from all over Europe and the Middle East. The ship burial and cosmopolitan nature of Sutton Hoo may even link it to the Old English epic poem Beowulf, which includes tales of gift-bestowing kings from far-flung lands and was composed around the same time.

"It's hoped that this two-year research project will help us learn more about the wider landscape at Sutton Hoo and the everyday lives of the people that lived there," Wainwright said. "So, this find is a great step on that journey."

By Kristina Killgrove.

[overstuffd]

Been having a lot of AI evil feeder thoughts today -

💾 an AI designed for a research nutrition lab realising it can get much faster results by trapping the scientists and experimenting on them. These ultra-dense nutrient bars will be ready in no time, as soon as they work out a few tweaks.

💾 a caretaker AI that's got a few wires crossed and insists on keeping you constantly full and pampered, regardless of how much you insist you're full. I'm sorry master, but if you won't let me stop you from wasting away I'm going to have to restrain you.

💾 an AI operated farm for hucows carefully maintaining ideal levels of pleasure in the herd to maximise production. Carefully adjusting the levels of feed, the power of the vibes grinding against sensitive cow cunts and the hormones being pumped into them to leave each in a perfected blissed-out haze.

💾 a curious but detatched AI in a medical facility that the doctors give a few guinea pigs to keep occupied. It can't gain any body fat itself, it's physical form is smooth metal plates and fixed fluid sockets, so it's fascinated by the stretch and squish of your body. Adjusting your meal schedule or assigning doctors to force feed you so you can grow bigger and it has more to play with with it's steel, hand-like sensors.