#also i just don't have bells

[egophiliac]

Favorite Disney Princess?

this would be a much easier question if they let Meg into the lineup. dangit. >:(

in terms of, like, favorite movie/adaptation, I have a lot of appreciation for the OG three -- Snow, Cinderella, and Aurora (...okay, yes, I was basically predisposed to being obsessed with Diasomnia). overall it's a toss-up, but Snow has my favorite design! she's so classically '30s but in, like, a technicolor way. it's great! ❄️

in terms of who I spent my entire childhood low-key obsessed with (and isn't Meg)...that would be Jasmine. no question. especially in the purple dress. I love me a snarky princess covered in organza and it's all her fault (and Meg's).

[revvethasmythh]

Okay, the thing about Liliana's relationship with Ludinus is that she genuinely seems to not like this man. she's not about him. she thinks he's dangerous and doesn't contradict Imogen when she calls him evil. that said, she has bought into his rhetoric and DOES think he's right, which means their professional relationship is basically just:

[finncakes]

hound of ill omen

[stardustedknuckles]

Okay but I need to know what the people who have only watched c3 think about Beau and Caleb because I've been rotating them in my head for three years too long to be objective anymore but like. Getting to see them through the eyes of a new party just reminded me that even though so much of our delight in C2 was focused around the constant indignity of the Nein, they are objectively a flickering metronome between "how the fuck are these people alive" and "this is the most hyper competent group of mercenaries I've ever seen" and I just. Do they know. Do they know that Beau is so fucking cool. Are there people who learned these two npcs have a whole campaign and want to learn more about them. I look at these two and see a montage of tiefling dicks and red eyes and promising to kill the other if something goes wrong. I see Caleb smearing mud and bat shit on Beau's face and Beau just resigned even as she makes the most aggrieved and annoyed sounds, Beau hauling Caleb's dissociated ass over her own skinny shoulder and walking him to safety. I look at them and see 500 hours and more of the empire siblings. The weeks and months they spent going from hating the parts of themselves they saw in each other to loving in the other what they still struggled with in themselves. I see chosen siblings, best friends. What do other people see?

[danwhobrowses]

For anyone else who is gonna struggle surviving the next 3 weeks with the angsty and tense situation of Callowmoore here's a few things from the last 2 episodes that I feel were underrated and will assist in trying to keep me sane/emotionally stable: - Matching messed up hands built for holding - Fearne nervously playing with her hair as she approaches Ashton - Ashton wanted Fearne to be either the last thing they saw if they died or the first thing they saw when they succeeded - Fearne's admittance corroborates Ashley's 4SD revelation that Fearne is in love with someone in the party but doesn't know how to process the emotions - Fearne wanted Ashton to be happy, while Ashton wanted to feel whole so they would be worthy of the Hells - Ashton twice tried to lead a search for Fearne, and instantly clocking onto Chetney saying he followed Fearne - Fearne making herself look as radiant as possible before giving Ashton the cold shoulder - Ashton only rose to Chetney's provocations until he said 'You hurt Fearne' Use how you will

[coern-art-very-cool-and-nice]

sekai au 👊😔

[brbuttons]

he's just a lil' guy.

[ comms // shop ]

[pinkieroy]

"Shush" can be so romantic

[words-writ-in-starlight]

You could say that I have strong feelings about this ongoing debate

[the-modern-typewriter]

will you write something vampire themed for spooky season?

The coffin was luxurious, as far as coffins went. The protagonist had half-expected just a plain wood box, scratchy and full of splinters. They supposed, if they had to die, they could at least do so in style.

It didn't really make them feel better.

And it didn't make the coffin fit two people any better either.

"Stop squirming," the secret love of their life snapped. "You're just going to get us more stuck."

"I don't think it's possible to get more stuck." Their voice was only a little, reasonably, hysterical. "We're buried alive in a bloody coffin!"

The secret love of their life looked awful beneath them. Pallid, even in the crowded gloom of their shared grave. They felt clammy and cold beneath the protagonist's limbs.

The protagonist swallowed. They tried to stop squirming. There were no comfortable positions.

The love of their life hissed between their teeth with irritation, and if the protagonist could see properly, they were sure that a terrifying and wrathful and gorgeous glare would be pointed in their direction.

"I'm sorry," the protagonist said. For the squirming, sure, but mostly for everything else. For somehow getting them into this mess. For being the last idiot that the love of their short life would ever see. For not knowing how to save either of them.

"You should stop talking and conserve your air."

"You should stop talking and conserve your air," the protagonist mumbled. They closed their eyes. They tried not to panic. The panic closed in on them on every side, just like the too close suffocating padded walls, and the steady weight of six or so feet of packed soil crushing them on all sides.

"Someone's going to rescue us," the love of their life said. "Your friends - someone - will figure out where we are."

"Coffin. My first guess too."

"They'll get us out." The growl in their friend's voice was almost inhuman. Quite impressive.

The protagonist bit down hard on their lip, and the rather unhelpful response of 'before or after we die from the lack of oxygen? Because, you know, I read that people can survive five hours locked in a coffin. Tops. If they're not hyperventilating. But who's hyperventilating! I'm not hyperventilating! Are you?'

Their friend drew a sharp breath. Then they squirmed, hypocritically, before managing to place cool hands on either side of the protagonist's whirling brain.

"Easy," they murmured, abruptly far more gentle. "You're okay. You're going to be okay. I'm not - I won't let anything bad happen to you."

The protagonist felt tears prick the corners of their eyes. Absurd.

One of their friend’s thumbs grazed over their lip, wiping away the bead of blood there.

"Match your breathing to mine," their friend murmured, voice a little hoarse and trying-to-keep-it-together. "Concentrate on me."

The protagonist did their best. Their friend breathed very slowly, admirably calm really, given the circumstances.

"I won't hurt you," their friend said. "I love you. I won't."

"It's not you I'm worried about. Wait - you love me?"

It was impossible to see the love of their life's face, and really, a coffin was the worst place for a confession. Because the protagonist would very much have liked to have seen their face. At least if they were hanging over a lava pit, the protagonist would have been able to see their face, and make a judgment on if they meant that platonically or romantically.

God. They hated their brain.

Their friend didn't say anything and the silence was surely almost as agonising as dying. Almost. They brushed a tear away from the protagonist's cheek, feather-light.

"More than anything," their friend said. "Now shut. up. Please. And please, please, stop moving."

The protagonist shut up. Somehow. They rested their head against their friend's chest, letting the knowledge of that confession fill them with warmth, or try to.

At least they were dying in a coffin with someone they loved. Who loved them back. Someone's whose heart was so...

The protagonist stopped. It was a trick. A mistake. Something. But it felt, beneath their ear, like their friend's heart wasn't beating. Actually, when the protagonist really thought about it, now that their breathing was more or less steady, even in the squashed space they couldn't hear their friend's breathing at all. They couldn't feel it against their cheek and...

They didn't think the love of their life had always been so cold.

"Why." The protagonist resisted the urge to shift again. "Why do you think you're going to hurt me? Worst you're going to do is elbow me in the face?"

Their friend was silent a second time.

"Right?" The protagonist pressed.

"Someone will find us. They'll get us out. It's not a problem. It won't be a problem."

"What...what won't be a problem?" But the protagonist, with a dreadful twist in their stomach, knew. It should have been obvious, maybe, in the last twenty four hours.

The stomach bug. The dark glasses. The cringing from the sunlight.

"I won't hurt you." A mantra. Not a reassurance; a mantra, a plea. "I love you. I won't hurt you. You're going to be fine."

Five hours, suddenly, seemed like a lifetime.

The coffin was luxurious, as far as coffins went. Excellent quality. Top notch.

Nothing else, after all, would keep in a newly turned and starving vampire locked up.

"Shit," the protagonist whispered.

And that about summed up their current predicament.

[utilitycaster]

I don't begrudge anyone their campaign preferences, and I think there's plenty of valid reasons to like Campaign 3 the best and this is not directed at people who are genuinely having a great time with it, but it feels like virtually all the nostalgia and wishful thinking I see surrounding Campaign 3 is screaming "you guys want Campaign 2." You want more slow travel and downtime and interparty conversations and slow-burn romance? You wish their main focus was fighting governmental corruption? You want a party that only semi-settles down at the end and keeps adventuring and remains very close? You're frustrated by how everpresent and overarching the moon plot is? You miss when they were just fucking around in a city? I genuinely believe you want Campaign 2, or at best you love a specific ship or a character from Campaign 3 but aren't happy about basically anything else, and would vastly prefer the tone and events and plot of Campaign 2. And I don't really care if you watch Campaign 2, or if you think I'm being annoying here; I simply genuinely believe you'd be happier watching Campaign 2 than Campaign 3 and are so deep in a sunk cost fallacy well you can't see it.

[caeslxys]

also on the topic of meaningful consequences re: character death I don't understand the take that death in fantasy requires physical permanency to matter or give a story "stakes". death is permanent regardless. Do you really think that if they get her back, they'll just go back to normal? That these characters are not forever fundamentally changed from this, that Laudna will not be fundamentally changed from this?

That Imogen's world will be less fractured, that she won't be even more of an anxious wreck now that what she stands to lose has been put into vivid clarity? That Orym won't still carry the guilt of being the chosen, that he will be less haunted by the connections he drew to his own grief with Will to Imogen's with Laudna? That Fearne won't look at Laudna and think of that coin flip, of her choice, and what that means for her and how she loves? That FCG and Ashton won't think to this and be reminded of the people they've hurt or been hurt by, and what this effort and what this grief means for how they view the hells?

That Laudna, who has been so blasé about life and if she's alive and what being alive even means for someone like her, won't wake up surrounded by family and by love and be driven to reexamine everything she's taught herself in 28 years of isolation to cope with the trauma of Whitestone? That this, maybe, will be the driving force she needed to realize that there are things she wants to live for?

It might be that I'm just biased, but I'm not sure what stakes Laudna perma-dying adds aside from just presenting the characters with the knowledge they all already have that they can, in fact, die. that what they're up against is incomprehensibly powerful and dangerous. The stakes already feel so impossibly high when you think of what and who they are preparing to face. frankly the aftermath of this combat alone, even if everything had gone perfect and everyone had gotten back up a-okay, would have set that tone.

I don't know, regardless I'll be happy to watch whatever story they choose to tell unfold as it does, but it strikes me that so many people seem to think that death only matters if there is a physical absence.

[revvethasmythh]

I think it's very interesting--and I mean that genuinely--that overwhelmingly in the past week or two, the responses I've seen about Relvin have centered around the idea that "he should have fought" for Imogen or that "he should FIGHT" for Imogen. I've seen this particular line pop up quite a few times in slightly different ways, and I think maybe we should unpack this a little.

Because in the physical sense, Relvin can't really fight. By that, I mean his stats probably look like Gilear Faeths and like, yeah, you can argue that Gilear tagged along during Sophomore Year and therefore, so could Relvin. But Gilear also *spoilers* died three separate times in a 20 episode span, and is only alive at the end because Emily loves him so fucking much and Brennan's resurrection rules in FHSY are more lax than Matt's. Particularly post-Solstice, where there is no resurrection to be had at all if Relvin were to die. If you want Relvin to join the Hells and Fight The Moon And Ludinus Too, it's really not feasible even on just a physical level. That's not even engaging with the question of "why would the Hells even want him there?" They wouldn't. He'd be a nuisance at best and a liability at worst.

If you want to him to Fight The Moon sans the Hells on his own, he's really not capable of that either! He's not a scholar, he's not a magic user, he's--he's a groom. A stablehand. He can't "pick up his pitchfork" (that he shovels manure with) and stand defiantly against the forces that face Imogen & Co. He's really, truly Just A Dude. Which is kind of the point I've been trying to make about him. He's lived his life around extraordinary people, and he is not extraordinary. He doesn't have the tools to fight something like this, which is part of his tragedy. Is there a world where he quits his job, leaves his horses and his home and his life and tries to become a warrior for the sake of his absentee wife and the daughter he loves but doesn't know how to love the right way? I suppose. But wouldn't that be a different story than this one? And isn't it worth finding the meaning in the one we're experiencing now?

If this argument is that he should have fought for Imogen on an emotional level i.e. having been there for her more or more outwardly shown her affection, we kind of run aground of the same problems. The ask here is that we fundamentally change Relvin's character to make him something that he is not. He is a man who struggles with emotions, and was probably desperately scared about what Imogen was experiencing when it happened and didn't want her to feel his fear. Or his thoughts about her mother. And so, yes, he pulls away (for a variety of reasons). And there is a conversation to be had about his choice to withhold information about Liliana--it's questionable. But, then, every option he was presented with was questionable. What do you tell Imogen, who was abandoned by her mother when she was two? That her mother is dead, or that her mother abandoned her? You pray Imogen never develops the same debilitating powers as her mother, but when she does? Do you give her the comfort of knowing someone else had the same powers, the same struggles, at the expense of prompting more questions about her mother? Do you take the chance to be peppered with questions about how these powers work only to helplessly look on and say "I don't know," and maybe send Imogen down the same road as her mother even sooner than she actually did?

There is no good option. There is no heroic version of Relvin that makes all the right choices and becomes Imogen's white knight father, endlessly supportive and wholly committed to her. The situation is too complicated, and Relvin, frankly, is far too much Just Some Guy to be able to really grasp what Imogen is going through or to fight it in an active way. But I do think it's interesting that this seems to be the version of Relvin that the fandom would have found acceptable.

[demi-pixellated]

In my "Revising-Old-OC" Era

[finncakes]

finally...i think i actually like my ashton design...

[danwhobrowses]

What's this? My skin, cleared? My crops, watered!? My heart, soaring!!??

Callowmoore softness, comfort and sleeping beside each other my FUCKING BELOVED!