#and the twists and how everything pieces together into a story are very cool

[rainparadefromhell]

started watching american horror story and i get the hype even though it isn't really what i expected

[chaotic-archaeologist]

https://nypost.com/2024/08/28/world-news/boy-4-accidentally-smashes-bronze-age-jar-that-was-at-least-3500-years-old/

Your thoughts?

Personally, I'm kinda sick of museums being required to cater to kids so much. If you're going to do this open air exhibit, kids who don't know how to keep their hands to themselves just shouldn't be allowed in. The glass is there for this very reason.

Actually, I'm with the museum on this one. Is it unfortunate that the vase was broken? Yes. Was the vase a valuable piece of the past? Also yes. But I think the museum did something very cool by not having the artifacts behind glass and are handling this with good grace and the sense to make this a learning opportunity.

Sometimes we overlook the fact that museums often attempt to arrest or freeze artifacts in time. They are kept in controlled conditions to prevent them from deteriorating and even treated to reverse damage. Many things on display on museums are elevated beyond their original value, alienated from their original purpose, and closed off from interaction.

It's incredible that this jar survived as long as it did—and its age is what makes it special—but at the end of the day, it is still a jar. It has now experienced the thing that happens to pretty much every jar that has been or will be. After all, decay is an extant form of life. (If you want to read a very well written and interesting take on decay and archaeology, check out this article by Caitlin DeSilvey.)

The article I linked above provides some important context and the update that the museum is planning on using this as an opportunity to teach about the conservation process. The jar's story is not over; it is being pieced back together and in this next chapter in its life it will be able to tell two stories: one of its life and the other of its rebirth. The museum's approach embraces that, exactly like the Japanese art of Kintsugi.

I also agree with the museum's decision not to punish the child or his family. Things go wrong in museums all the time despite their highly controlled environments, and this is why they have artifacts insured. Sometimes the thing that happens is a child, and by and large museums do not seek damages.

I would encourage you to rethink your stance on museums and children. Museums are for everyone. Children have a right to experience museums and what they have to offer just like anyone else. There are also many studies that discuss how going to museums benefits children.

In this case, perhaps the exhibit design was slightly flawed, but the four year old boy accidentally knocked the jar over because he was curious about what was inside and wanted to investigate. Curiosity is exactly what museums should be encouraging. In an ideal world that curiosity would have been channeled into some other kind of engagement, but the folks who work in museums have a lot on their plates and cannot plan everything perfectly all the time. Even if they could, they often do not have the resources to do so.

Finally, the AP article mentions that the boy and his family were visiting the museum to get away from Hezbollah rocket fire. Regardless of your opinions on the current conflict, everyone deserves to have a safe place to exist. That museums can serve as those spaces is an honor.

I commend the Hecht Museum and the people working there. They 1) successfully provided a place of learning and refuge, 2) opted not for a punitive approach—which is often the default Western model for justice—but a compassionate one, and 3) are using this twist of fate to create programming that will further engage the public.

@museeeuuuum and @museum-spaces would you care to comment?

-Reid

[txttletale]

bundletober #17: ASCENT

i am going to catch up with these... tomorrow. or at some point afterwards. Society. anyway today's bundletober i'm looking at ASCENT, a trophy incursion by ex statis games--hey they're from wales? that rules

so for those who have not played trophy, it is a set of very closely connected games -- trophy dark and trophy gold -- about OSR-style adventurers who are doomed to die horribly in a wretched world that corrupts them. it bridges a lot of interesting gaps between OSR stuff (no classes, emphasis on modules and prewritten dungeons, encouraging a thinking puzzle-solving approach from players) and storygame stuff (handing some level of narrative control off to players, failing forward, mixed successes and fiction-first approaches). the main difference is how doomed the player characters are--trophy gold player characters will only probably die, while trophy dark characters are the most doomed motherfuckers to ever briefly walk this earth.

an 'incursion', then, is a module or an adventure to be run in trophy. something i really like about trophy is that it encourages its incursions to have 'themes'. a lot of trophy incursions will have a list of 'moments', little pieces of set dressing a GM can describe to bring that theme across. i love this shit because i think that everyone agrees it sucks when the GM reads out like fifteen paragraphs of prewritten text from the module but it is also nice to have some guidance or a handrail--this provides a lot of really cool interesting little moments without being overbearing or handholdy. the theme of ASCENT is 'EXPOSED' and the moments reflect this beautifully:

this shit is sublime. the meat of the incursion is its 'rings', descriptions of the progressively darker and bleaker dangers your characters face. the rings in ASCENT are beautifully put together, each one telling its own miniature story. ASCENT also hews very close to trophy's storygame side, giving the GM probing questions to ask the party at each ring:

i really like the inversion of the classic "dungeon", the fact that instead of delving deep underground each progressive increase of danger takes place in the context of scaling a mountain, exposed to the elements, the very sky at your back becoming your enemy. i love almost everything about ASCENT--but when it comes to it, without wishing to spoil--i find the ending a little disappointing. not bad disappointing, just--when taking into the consideration the very real practices of mountain climibing in the modern day, the everest expeditions of old that this seems to be taking some inspiration from, it ends in a very generic and unconsidered OSR loot-the-ancient-relic-with-a-twist setpiece.

it's not a bad ending so much as a missed opportunity to mediate on shit like the environmental destructin to mount everest caused by tourism, or the grisly monument to pointless thrill-seeking death that is rainbow valley, or the failure to credit sherpa guides for the success of early expeditions in favour of showering praise on white colonialists. or, hell, even just to do something a bit more on-theme. it doesnt' feel very EXPOSED, is all i'm saying.

ASCENT is available for purchase as a digital download through itch.io

[random-introverted-blog]

His Star - His Queen [Chapter 8 - Changes]

Who you are - Who you're not - Who are you?

Summary: From parents one week, to a jeweler and a business meeting the next, the Ascendant has been very busy. And you've done your best to play the part of a reluctantly behaved consort.

But for how long before the lines blur?

Link to the Tumblr Chapter Index

Warnings/Advisories: Blood, a reference to violence, the Ascendant is very creepy again, possessive behavior, implied SA throughout, emotional and psychological manipulation.

A/N: This took a million years because I kept adding to it. There's a lot that's going to be happening soon. If we were on a rollercoaster together, we're nearing the crest of the high-drop. Thank you everyone for your patience. Please enjoy and forgive the sweat and blood all over the place. I edited as much as I could but there's so much I'll probably be making post-upload edits for awhile.

Chapter is 8,516 words.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-

You find a twisted comfort in the warmth of the blood on your hands, as it decorates your arms like a piece of art and adorns the lovely little dress of various pastel colors you had been dolled up in all day.

It doesn't change that you don't remember what happened. One moment, you stood there with this peculiar, yet charming, elderly couple. Conversing with them, as they understood they were not your real parents. But they held onto the hope that you could still be a family together.

You weren't sure if you felt guilty for never telling them outright the truth of your parentage, or for the haunting screams that echoed in remnants of memory in your mind from the savagery inflicted on them in the name of your father.

Savagery that you can't remember.

But is splattered across your arms and across the room.

At some point, it seems you had attempted to infuse your glass of water with the taste of the woman's bloody finger, only to lose interest and abandon the finger in the glass. And the red, very dead eyes of the man seemed to pierce into your unwavering stare, forever frozen in a state of terror.

They were so happy to see you. So sweet. And in return for their boundless affection, you unleashed an unfathomable storm of brutality. The echoes of violence reverberated in your skull, drowning out the once rich sounds of laughter. The scent of blood and fear hung heavy in the air, mingling with the lingering aroma of freshly baked cookies that the mother had brought with her, along with a story of how she commandeered the palace kitchen. It was astonishing that his spawn hadn't erupted into a chaotic frenzy yet. You had no doubt they were the parents of the other you. You were willing to play along, at least for their sake...

"Oh dear. Now just look at this mess..." scolded a familiar voice behind you, by the door, though the tone was more amused than annoyed. His footsteps creating a soft thud as he approached then appeared beside you. "Is everything alright, my love? What happened?" he asked, worry lacing his words. Crouching down, he met your height, his hand brushing against your arm, grounding you in the chaos - with genuine concern etched on his face. From the corner of your eyes you caught his noting the pool of scarlet blood your knees have been bathing in, seeping into his expensive dark wood floorboards.

His fingers delicately pushed aside the blood-streaked strands of hair from your face, somewhat sticky with blood. "Did they hurt you?" Astarion presses, but his tone remains gentle.

You shake your head; the motion accentuated by the soft rustle of your hair brushing against the surface of your shoulders. Wrapping your arms around yourself. "I... No, but..." you pause, the words catching in your throat. Astarion's gaze meets yours, his eyes searching for answers. "Astarion, I don't have parents..." The words leave your lips softly, like a whisper carried by the wind. "Not like you know them." You take a deep breath, the coolness filling your lungs, as if it could somehow ease the weight on your shoulders. Despite your desire for him to know as little about you as possible, this is a secret that can no longer be kept safely. If you ever could.

Astarion studies you, his brow quirks in curiosity. Yet he refrains from mocking or making a witty comment at your expense. "Care to elaborate on that for me, pet?" With a gentle touch, he reached for your arms and guides you to your feet.

Whispering with a tremble that betrays your inner turmoil, the kind that's drowned out by the beat of your own heart thundering in your ears. "I... I'm a Bhaalspawn..." The words taste like a secret - heavy and dangerous, surrendered to the silence between you and meant for his ears alone.

Despite his composed demeanor, you can't help but notice the subtle tensing of his body, a slight stiffness that betrays his reaction to your words. A faint scent of tension lingering in the air, like the crackling of electricity before a storm. "I see," the silence punctuated only by his murmured response, his voice carrying a contemplative tone.

To your utter surprise, he pulls you, your body caked in sticky crimson blood, into his arms. His once immaculate red and black suit becomes stained with the dark, viscous liquid. His embrace tightens around your waist, constricting like a vice. "My apologies, darling. I should have weighed the differences between you and her more carefully." He croons, his voice low and velvety.

Rather than attempt to push him away, sneer, bite, hiss... You simply let your shoulders relax and your eyes gently shut. Like a warm blanket on a crisp autumn morning, his scent embraced you, equal parts familiar and entirely different. You shouldn't be doing this. What would your Star think...?

But you can't think. Your arms ache and your hands pulsate, likely from the repetitive actions of brutally bludgeoning the lovely couple into a mangled pulp resembling a tomato soup. Your wicked heart rejoices in the kills, feeling a dark and twisted satisfaction, a sickening feeling that emanates from deep within your chest. A profound self-hatred arises for harboring a sense of fulfillment that you realize has quietly found its home within you.

Astarion's arms tighten, his touch firm yet gentle. The sound of his steady heartbeat fills your ears as he pulls you nearer to his chest. "You're discontented with your blood," he murmurs the words, a statement rather than a question. "I'll explore what can be done, though I suspect I may have an answer already." Determination fills his voice, slender fingers threading through your hair.

"Ensure that dinner is served in my bedchamber this evening." Astarion commands, his piercing gaze sweeps over the bustling crowd of servants and guards at the door.

A half-elf servant's eyes dart nervously as he observes him. "But the guests--"

"Serve them in the dining hall as planned. Ballar will excuse our absence, and I will handle the rest in the morning," he snaps, his impatience palpable as he gazes down at you. His eyes emit a soft glow that is strangely captivating rather than terrifying. He replies impatiently as he looks down at you, eyes glowing red but soft and not all-consuming. Simultaneously, the shadows lurking in the corners of the room begin to slither towards you, their movements silent yet eerily mesmerizing. Gradually, they envelop both of you, plunging you into an abyss of darkness.

It's a strange feeling, like a gentle and chilly breeze that dances across your skin.

Then the shadows recede and you, still standing in his arms, find yourself transported to a room that dwarfs the familiar confines of your own. If opulence could be a room, this would be it.

A gentle, feather-light kiss lands on the crown of your head, sending a shiver down your spine as your attention shifts to Astarion. "I will draw a warm bath for you," he murmurs, his voice a gentle serenade that caresses your ears. "Feel free to explore the bedchamber to your heart's desire. We'll be sharing it in time, after all." With those simple words, he releases you from his warm embrace, and you watch as he gracefully glides behind you, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. Your eyes trace his every movement until he disappears behind a simple wooden door.

Though choosing to ignore his reasons, you take him up on his offer - kicking your bloody shoes off and allowing your bare feet to tread the warm, burgundy carpet throughout the space. The centerpiece of the room is the large, fourposter bed. Framed in mahogany and adorned with intricate reliefs depicting events in history... is that... the netherbrain?

Of course, only the finest silks and velvets, deep shades of red and purple, adorn the bed. Above, a canopy of rich, embroidered fabric drapes down, adding to the sense of regal splendor.

On one side of the room a large bay window, framed with heavy velvet curtains in royal blue and embroidered gold, overlooks the bustling city and distant sparkle of stars flitting above the Sword Coast. A plush window seat, adorned with soft cushions, inviting you to take a seat to relax and think, or perhaps finish the book you've been enjoying the past few nights.

The walls are artworks and tapestries, some magical and depicting wondrous scenes, others more mundane in comparison. With some of these concealed by ominous dark sheets. Between them, shelves, cabinets, dressers of dark wood you presume hold treasures or the like.

A grand fireplace dominates the other wall, its mantle exquisitely carved, a show of incredible craftsmanship. It's fire alight and casting a warm glow over the room. Nearby, an elegant writing desk equipped with fine parchment, inks and quills, very well used by your estimation, and framed by two wall sconces. The room is bathed in a soft, warm glow from the lights of the crystal chandeliers and wall sconces, creating an enchanting and regal atmosphere.

The creaking of the door beside the fireplace catches your attention and you're greeted by the sight of a shirtless Astarion, hand extended and beckoning you. "Come, love, it's ready." He says, smiling warmly when you accept and cross the room toward him.

He takes your hand and walks with you into the room, steamed slightly from the warm water and guiding you around the large marble bathtub to a shelf lined with various scented oils and soaps. "I believe we have the vanilla and amber oil you've taken to using lately, if that is what you'd like tonight." Astarion offers in a calming rumble of his chest as he steps behind you. His fingertips graze your skin as he unbuttons the dress for you, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

Normally, you would smack his hands at the mere thought of him undressing you. But you're so... tired. And drained... and all you want is to clean off the blood caked on your skin.

So you simply pluck one oil after the other off the shelf, examine the selection with some mild interest while Astarion does most of the work taking the dress off you until you need to lift your arms or legs to get it off completely. In the end you settle on a cinnamon and honey scent, one he acknowledges with a silent nod and subtle smile.

It dawns on you, as he turns away with the oil, that he intends to join you in the bath... right as you realize he's as naked as you are. He returns and replaces it on the shelf before retrieving a bar of soap next.

He guides with a hand on the small of your back to the tub and eases you both into the warm water.

Just like that, you find yourself naked and immersed in a hot bath with a twisted version of Astarion, a tyrant of a ruler over... is it just Baldur's Gate or the entire Sword Coast? And to your surprise, he makes no move to touch you like that. Instead, he focuses on helping you wash in a somewhat comfortable silence.

Even as he washes the blood from your hair and face, his hands remain appropriate. He asks a few questions about your urge but nothing beyond the standard array of curious ones to better understand it - as well as what memories you do have of your life.

Then he asks you the burning question. "Did you enjoy your meeting with the cockroach today, my pet?" The Ascendant calmly asks as he sets the soap aside.

He chuckles at your tense reaction, brushing his fingers through your wet hair. "Of course I would know, darling. It wasn't much of a reach." As his arm snakes around your waist, slowly dragging you into him.

"And you're not...?" you cautiously inquire, anticipating his reaction, whether it be anger or irritation.

"It doesn't concern me." Astarion answered, his voice carrying an air of nonchalance, "he can try all he likes, but no matter what he does, his efforts will never be enough to steal you away from me."

His choice of words had you contorting in his grasp, twisting to meet his gaze. "Remind me who stole me first?" You bite and narrow your gaze at him.

Astarion's piercing scarlet eyes, shimmering with an unexpected tenderness, meet yours, locking in an intense gaze. As his hand, radiating warmth, delicately caresses yours beneath the soothing embrace of the fragrant bathwater, the soft sound of water gently lapping against the sides of the tub creates a serene ambiance. Leaning closer, his presence alone almost whispers lovingly to yours, "One day," he murmurs, his voice caressing your ears and easing your worries despite your reluctance to part with them, "everything will become clear to you, my love."

You want to say it was him who started what happens first... but deep down; you lack certainty. All you know is what follows. Your lips meld with his, the taste somewhat of metal and fine wine. The sound of your heart pounding in your ears intertwines with that of your shared breaths between kisses. As his hands trace the curves of your hips, a gentle tug brings you onto his lap, his arousal grazing against your thigh as you settle. Your hands find their place on his chiseled chest, feeling the sculpted muscles beneath your fingertips.

In the depths of your thoughts, faint whispers echoes in the recesses of your mind, begging you to stop this. Growing louder and more frantic as his hands guide you into a tantalizing grind on his thigh. But it's the soft, intimate sounds that escape your parted lips as you press them against his, filled with longing and anticipation, that abruptly shatter your daydream, causing your hands to instinctively push against him.

One of his hands holds firmly holds you close to his body, while the other hand playfully teases one of your breasts, his fingers tracing delicate patterns that make your skin tingle with anticipation. When his lips withdraw from yours, a path of soft kisses awakens your yearning, as his breath, filled with warmth, delicately sweeps across your neck. Every touch, every nibble, creates a captivating blend of anticipation and desire that floods your senses. You can feel the gentle graze of his fangs, a delicate reminder of his primal nature, as he tenderly kisses and nibbles with his teeth. The friction of your instinctive grinding against his firm thigh creates a captivating sensation that is gradually consuming you. Just as you begin to comprehend the severity of the moment, he confidently lifts your hips, leaving you helpless to resist the pull of desire...

____________________________________________________________________

Well... at least this time you're not waking up naked with him. Like you do most nights as of the last nine days.

As you wake up, you find yourself nestled against his strong, muscular body. Soft morning light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room. Your cheek rests against his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin. His arm draped over you, while his fingertips delicately trace patterns along your back. Their touch seeping through the fabric of your nightgown and sending a soothing sensation through your body. The faint ache in your muscles reminds you of the passionate evening you shared with him, lingering memories of him between your legs while you sat on the edge of his writing desk. However, the soreness is much milder compared to the first time. Perhaps it's the result of spending the past tenday in his constant, inseparable presence.

Sensing you're awake, his other hand gently weaves through your hair, nails tenderly caressing your scalp. "Good morning, beautiful," his voice reverberates in his chest, rumbling against your ear. You sense he doesn't expect or require a response from you, allowing you to bask in the moment's serenity. Succumbing to the blissful sensation of his fingers caressing your scalp, you let your eyelids flutter closed, prolonging the quiet embrace of comfort and ease.

Once more, guilt gnaws at you for succumbing so easily to the Ascendants' advances. Even though he forcefully brought you to climax in the hallway yesterday, pinning you against the wall, you were able to resist him for a longer time than how quickly you've given in to his embrace just now.

But you can feel something shifting in you, something wrong. Try as you might to fight it, ignore it, deny it, you're reaching the point of reluctantly admitting you are powerless to it. But that doesn't mean you're close to giving up. Once you can slip away from the Ascendant's side long enough, you can approach Elowen about using the sending stone to communicate your progress. Maybe even an update from the resistance on the "extra help" they promised you'd receive soon.

During your brief moments alone, you convinced her it was best for her to hold on to it. Malacai and Astarion were already constant shadows watching your every move. Yet every so often, he includes another "steward" to your company. But you've played the role of warily agreeable "consort" since the night he learned of your bhaalspawn blood.

Astarion continuously parades in one wedding planner after the other, and you reluctantly comply... kind of. Each time you suggest leaving the palace, it predictably spirals into an argument. But perhaps if you can persuade him to allow you to leave with the stewards trailing behind, he might become more inclined to acquiesce.

Until then, you have spent most of your days learning your own body language and manipulating it in a large, public setting to wordlessly communicate that you are, somehow, a superior breed of creature. You haven't been a fast learner, to put it mildly, but Malacai and Astarion were far from discouraged.

Gently opening your eyes and lifting your head, you meet his eyes, watching you. "What is it to be today? More dress design arguments? Wine tasting? Or simply soak in the warm embrace of sunlight?" You ask, a playful tone in your voice. His eyes flutter closed for a moment, a contented purr escaping his lips. "Mm, that last one is rather appealing," he admits, his voice filled with a lazy anticipation. "Especially if you're included."

"Do I have a choice?"

The slip of your tongue cleaves through the silence like a sharpened sword through a goblin. A storm begins to brew behind his eyes as they gently open, his previously serene facade breaking away like a cliff-face succumbing to the relentless sea. Silence slithers into the void left by your words, taut and thickening the air akin to that of a dense fog. "Obedience is a matter of choice, darling. It can be as easy or as arduous as you decide. And we've gone over a few times already how pleasurable it can be," he responds, his voice low and resonant.

As you rise, disentangling yourself from his body, he props himself up on his hands. "We have little on our agenda today, save for a jeweler whom I had Cirrus summon, and I have a meeting later in the evening. So if bathing in the sun after breakfast is on offer, I'm all pointy ears."

"Where? That indoor courtyard across from my room?" You ask curiously, tilting your head.

"No," he says with a disdainful tone, his face contorting in disgust as he visibly pictures the place in his mind. "That place is a ghastly eyesore." The words carry a hint of mockery as he sneers. "Perhaps, with your personal touch, you can breathe life into the space, hmm?" His smile emerges, accompanied by the sound of a gentle chuckle. Leaning in closer, he plants a soft, affectionate kiss on your cheek, leaving a lingering warmth. With that, he gracefully rises from the bed and heads towards his wardrobe.

The sight of pants, neatly folded and hanging in the closet, makes your heart sink. The varied colors and textures evoke a sense of longing within you. Oh, how much you miss the feeling of slipping into them, the smooth fabric against your skin. "Can I please wear pants again?" you ask, your voice tinged with yearning, unable to fight the pout that tugs at your face.

Astarion glances over his shoulder, the soft rustle of fabric filling the air as he effortlessly slips into his clothes. Today, his attire is elegantly understated, with tailored, dark grey pants that hug his legs and a sky blue shirt that accentuates his refined features. The ends of the sleeves and the collar are delicately ruffled, adding a touch of whimsy to his ensemble. "Darling," he replies, his voice gentle yet persuasive, "it's simply not fitting for a woman of your esteemed position." He turns to face you, his gaze filled with a captivating blend of sincerity and allure.

"But I'm the future wife of a godking, no? Who can say besides us what falls within and below my status?" This is possibly the first time you are using this nonsense for your benefit.

With a playful chuckle, he raises his eyebrows and surrenders by holding his hands up, saying, "As my lady wishes, so shall it be." As you open the wardrobe, he glances at the array of exquisite gowns, some purchased and others uniquely designed for you. "I'll have a tailor and seamstress called upon next, then. But will you consider that on some occasions it is better for you to wear one of these instead?" Arching an eyebrow, a subtle plea to you.

"Fine, as long as I at least get to wear pants consistently around the palace in private."

"That sounds eminently reasonable to me, pet." Astarion smiles, passing by you with a kiss to your head, leaving you to pick out a dress for the day.

Once the matter is settled, you follow closely behind him, your footsteps muffled by the plush carpeting as he leads you out of the lavishly adorned bedchamber and into the expansive hallways. As you walk, the scent of polished mahogany and the delicate fragrance of freshly cut roses fills the air, creating a harmonious blend of richness and beauty. Servants scurry about, their hurried footsteps echoing on the gleaming parquet floors.

Your eyes catch a group of them, their brows furrowed with effort, struggling to lift a massive ornate frame, shrouded in a pristine white silk sheet, off the wall. Their stifled grunts intermingle with the gentle rustling of the fabric. It's not the first time you've witnessed such a scene, but this time, you decide to halt your steps and observe. Curiosity piqued, you inquire, "Overhauling the decor, Astarion?"

He too takes notice of the scene. There is a flicker in his eyes, a fleeting moment of something indescribable that vanishes before you can fully comprehend it. "Something like that," he mutters, his gaze lingering on the servants for a moment before he turns to face you, a warm smile playing on his lips. Offering you his arm, silently telling you it's time to move on.

Despite the strong urge to ignore and walk past him, you reluctantly give in and hook your arm around his, feeling a mix of annoyance, resignation and a sense of begrudging obligation. And the two of you continue on your way to breakfast uneventfully.

__________________________________________________

Although smaller than expected, you'll agree that this balcony, adorned with delicate flowers, where he has had you lounging, has a pleasant charm to it. As you reluctantly let yourself unwind, you nestle beside him, feeling the softness of the plush bench, with its velvet upholstery, contrast his firm body. The gentle breeze caresses your skin. As you gaze upon the bustling harbor, the vibrant colors of the boats and the glimmering water paint a picturesque scene before you. The melodic songs of birds in the distance and the muted chatter of the city below blended together, creating a comforting lullaby.

He made sure you ate enough to satisfy your hunger, and now you feel your breakfast sitting in your stomach like a rock.

Your eyes peel away from the view to admire the vampire lord... god... His eyes, closed in peaceful contentment, reveal his trust in your presence. With his head slightly tilted toward the blue sky, he savors every ray of the sun, his face bathed in warm golden light. The vibrant hues of his pale skin, illuminated by the sunlight, create a captivating contrast. The scent of him enveloped you: bergamot, rosemary, and frost, intermingled with the crisp morning air. You're not sure how long it's been since he ascended, though he once mentioned that the previous you had passed away a century and a half ago. No matter how much time has passed since he secured his ability to walk in the sun, he still clearly adores basking in it.

The sight of him, so vulnerable and yet so strong, almost fills your heart with a comforting warmth for him. "Why do you need me if you have all this at your fingertips?" Your voice remains hushed, careful not to disturb the restful mood. Absentmindedly finding your hand on his chest, gently caressing it through the fabric of his shirt.

His warm hand settles gently over yours, the tips of his fingers lightly brushing against your skin. As his captivating crimson eyes open, he gazes up at the vast expanse of the sky, fluffy white clouds drift lazily across the vibrant blue canvas. "All of this power, all of these riches, they are meaningless without you by my side. If it weren't for the hope of being reunited with her, I would have simply scorched Toril, reducing everything, even the stars above, to mere ashes that would cascade upon my skin."

You feel a slight twitch in your ears, and your brows furrow in confusion. "I'm not her, Astarion," you say, your voice carrying a soothing tone and preemptively comforting. "Just as you are not mine." You hope to harness the tender atmosphere around you, using it to comfort him and create a productive conversation.

Unexpectedly, a gentle smile spreads across his face and you can feel his arm slide around your waist, securing you in his embrace. "I know."

Suddenly, the peaceful moment is shattered when the double doors leading into the morning room swing open. A dwarven man in a tailored suit, with a hunched back and a noticeably small stature - even for his race, eagerly approaches as you both sit up.

"Ah, his Almighty Majesty, Godking Ancunín and his betrothed! An extraordinary honor to be in your exalted presence!" He exclaims and bows his head with a wide smile, his thin silver hair glistening in the sunlight.

Two servants and Malacai stand outside the doors. "I am Eldon Greybeard, of the illustrious house Greybeard! Humbly and graciously at your service!" he introduces himself. His voice projects confidence and carries a hint of excitement.

Beside Eldon, three young ladies stand, their faces flushed with exertion. They struggle to balance the weight of the large, cumbersome trunks in their delicate hands. Beads of sweat form on their brows as they try to maintain composure. Eldon's quick movement startles one of the girls, her wide eyes reflecting surprise and relief as he yanks a trunk from her delicate grasp.

Deciding to take that as your cue, you separate yourself from Astarion, who stands up from the bench with you. Effortlessly commanding the shadows lurking in the corners of the balcony, where the sunlight cannot reach. With a mesmerizing control over the darkness, he simply pivots the bench to face the doors. In a tender gesture, he takes your hand and interlocks your fingers, while the dwarf pops the latch to the trunk and flips it open, revealing its contents.

Proudly, the man spins the polished mahogany case around with a gentle creak to display its contents. Bracelets, glimmering in an array of colors and designs, catch the light, their intricate make and materials captivate the eye. The subtle scent of polished gems, worn leather and delicate metal. The Ascendant vampire, his crimson eyes locked with yours, as he guides you both to walk around and sit on the bench. Returning his gaze to the dwarf, his voice cut through the air with a dismissive tone. "We've no interest in these."

Eldon's eyes flit between the bracelets then you and forces a small chuckle. "Yes, of course, my apologies." Then he carefully closes the trunk and sets it aside. With a simple point at the other girl, she sets down the one she's carrying, and he swiftly opens it for you while Astarion releases your hand to slide his arm around your shoulders.

Arranged meticulously in orderly compartments, a multitude of rings sparkle and shimmer under the golden sunlight. "Judging by the ring size your messenger provided, each of these rings should fit the queen's finger flawlessly," Eldon proclaims with a hint of pride. A confident grin spreads across his face, as if reflecting the sparkle of the rings themselves.

While you were indifferent to viewing the selection from where the trunk sat on the ground, the vampire lord effortlessly beckoned one of his servants with a mere flick of his hand. Obediently, the servant grasped the trunk and positioned it before you both. The sight of the servant's pale, trembling hands gripping the trunk contrasted with the dark, weathered wood. The subtle creaking sound of the trunk being hoisted tickled the air. Allowing you to see every detail of each ring clearly and with ease.

You're half expecting him to pick one for you, but he remains eerily silent. His eyes glide over the options, examining them intently, but his hands remain motionless, refusing to reach out and touch any of them. "Astarion?" you inquire, curiosity tinged with a hint of confusion.

He meets your gaze, his piercing red eyes locking onto yours offer a blend of amusement and affection, and shakes his head slowly. "It's your ring, my treasure." The sound of his voice is soothing, melodious in your ear. With a gentle smile playing on his lips, he whispers, "Pick one, pick two, pick them all if it pleases you." His hand, warm and comforting, caresses your shoulder, sending a shiver down your spine.

Awkwardly, you find yourself gazing back and forth, your eyes tracing the intricate details of each ring. Part of you still yearns for that black band, adorned with scattered silver and blue gems. The memory of it tugs at your heartstrings. But you know deep down that you could never tarnish the purity of that memory by wearing it as your engagement ring to him.

Chuckling, an impish glint dances in your eyes as you delicately raise the cool, smooth silver band, feeling its weight between your fingertips. The silver gleams in the light, captivating your attention, even though you typically have no interest in jewelry without practical or magical value. As you gaze at the ring, a hint of amusement tugs at the corners of your lips, finding it a tad on the nose to wear when you're engaged to a vampire lord, yet undeniably adorable.

"Really, darling?" With a playful tone, Astarion inquires, his voice laced with feigned annoyance as he gazes at the ring you're holding up, allowing him to see the intricate design—a round ruby, nestled within the claws of a bat. Its eyes, adorned with two smaller rubies, seem to shimmer with a mischievous gleam.

Refusing to look away, your eyes hold on to his as he playfully rolls his own in a mock display of exasperation. The sound of his chuckle sends a shiver down your spine, a delightful sensation that lingers, much as you hate to admit it. Finally, unable to resist, he takes the ring from your outstretched hand, examining every intricate detail for himself.

As he carefully scrutinizes the ring, the balcony becomes alive with a hushed energy. The air carries a palpable sense of anticipation, entwined with the delicate fragrance of roses in a nearby vase. Your heart dances with a blend of exhilaration and jitters while you anxiously await his final decision.

Astarion gently places the ring back into your hand, his fingers brushing against yours. With a slight nod, he signals for Eldon to continue showcasing his collection. As the dwarf busies himself, his back turned to you, a tall Elven man gracefully emerges from the shadowed corner of the balcony. You couldn't help but notice the way he stood, hands clasped behind his back, and the lingering scent of a peculiar scent that seemed to permeate the surroundings. "My sincerest apologies, my revered Godking," he says, his voice filled with deference. "I humbly request a moment of your undivided attention."

A look of irritation crossed the Ascendant's face as he rolled his eyes. "By the hells, Ballar," he muttered, his anger evident in his tone.

"It is regarding a certain pest problem."

His arm stiffens around your shoulders, causing a slight discomfort. An uneasy silence settles over the atmosphere. Then, following a tense pause, he starts to rise from his seat, his movements betraying his restlessness. Just as he starts to rise, you reach out and gently grasp his arm, bringing him to a sudden stop. "You know what, Astarion," you say, your voice wavering with hesitation and uncertainty, "I think I'd prefer some time alone to gather my thoughts. About what you said this morning, and moments earlier." You suggest, a silent plea echoing in your heart, hoping he understands the turmoil within you.

Reluctantly, he nods in agreement with an unenthusiastic expression. "Just" his subdued acquiescence barely audible amidst the stillness "don't stray for too long, pet." A hint of caution lacing his words,

Feeling relieved, you hand the ring back to him and gracefully get up. The soft rustle of your clothes mixes with the faint murmur of voices drifting up from the bustling city below. The fragrance of blooming flowers that adorn the nearby flowerbeds dances in the air, mingling with the crisp, refreshing breeze that caresses against your skin.

Excusing yourself from the ornate balcony, you feel a sense of liberation washing over you. Malacai moves to join you, but with a subtle wave of your hand, you motion for him to remain behind. Finally alone, you relish in the silence, craving the chance to collect your thoughts amidst the cacophony of emotions that swirl within you.

Unconcerned with Astarions' instructions, you meander purposelessly through the palace, your footsteps echoing through its grand halls, the intricate tapestries and glistening chandeliers catching your eye. Echoing through the wooden floor in the halls, the soft sounds of distant footsteps create a soothing environment.

As you walk, you can't help but flex your right ankle from time to time, checking the tightness of the shackle. Sure enough, it's still there. Honestly, what a surprise - surely it would have slid down your ankle and freed you already.

Your sarcasm, thankfully, hasn't diminished at all.

What else could it possibly be used for, you wonder? Preventing you from leaving without permission is a likely bet. But It can't just be a means of forcing you to remain seated.

Gods above, you wish you could explain the shackle in the scant messages you've been able to get through the sending stone. Its full utility remained elusive, yes, but you could sense it would pose a formidable obstacle to whatever plan your Star had devised to get you out of here.

You're not sure how exactly, but you find yourself in the alchemist's office if the myriad of variety of plants were your first guess, their leaves reaching out towards the sunlight that streamed through the dusty windows. Empty glass bottles glint in the soft light, lining the shelves in the office. The workbench is a chaotic mess, with scattered papers and spilled substances. A distinct earthy aroma, with undertones of herbs and potions, wafted through the air. Your fingertips brush against the rough surface of the tables as you navigate further into the room, a sense of curiosity guiding your steps.

One plant catches your eye that you don't believe you've ever seen before. A large, worn tome sits adjacent to it, left open with a stunning rendition drawn on the right page, while the left page refers to it as the Slumberthorn vine. The text explains that these despite its deceptively soft appearance; the leaves are razor sharp and laced with a powerful toxin that can swiftly induce sleep in even the strongest, heaviest of humanoids.

You ponder the idea of the toxin entering the bloodstream, but the text clarifies that the toxin's potency is such that it works directly on the skin. Skillful distillation of the toxin can yield a powerful anesthetic, but the process requires expertise. The idea sparks a faint curiosity, but you quickly dismiss it. You never cared much for poison or the like, even in the depths of your stunted memory.

Why let a poison have all the fun your hands could have?

A memory comes to mind from your first day here. When that woman threw the broach, narrowly missing your face and leaving a small, shallow cut on your cheek. How quickly the Ascendant materialized in the room. Perhaps it was the distinct fragrance of your blood that permeated the air, reaching him from a considerable distance. Or maybe...

You lowered your gaze to your ankle, fixating on the shimmering silver and gold hues of the small band that smoothly encircled your skin. It had become all too familiar, the constant, subtle, gentle weight of it pressing against you, that you couldn't escape. If he possesses some kind of magical connection to the band, enabling him to track your every move, this experiment might just be worth a try. Escaping from the confines of the palace was your only chance at freedom. Perhaps this... precarious experiment would prove worthwhile in the end.

Undoubtedly one of the most foolish choices you could make, and that's saying a lot. With a careless gesture, you grab the book, shutting it with a resounding thud. Without purpose or direction, you fling it nonchalantly over your shoulder; the book flying through the room before landing elsewhere with a soft thump. And before doubt can creep in or hesitation can take hold, you gingerly press your finger against the leaf, feeling its soft and smooth surface. Instantly, you feel the minuscule razor-sharp barbs beneath your fingertip, poised to pierce your skin, yet you keep your hand steady.

Instinctively, you pull your hand back as the room abruptly plunges into darkness, leaving you disoriented. The world around you begins to spin, causing a whirlwind of blurred images. Struggling to maintain your balance, you take a cautious step back, the faint echo of your racing heartbeat fills your ears. Suddenly, a wave of weakness engulfs your body, causing your leg to buckle beneath you before giving out. With a desperate attempt to stay upright, your other leg follows suit, and you're vaguely aware of falling onto your side.

You shift onto your side, nestled in his frigid arms, glimpsing your vampire lover behind you in the bed. The dimly lit bedroom in the elfsong tavern envelops you both, shadows dancing on the walls. A symphony of scents dances through the air. The lingering scent of aged wood and a subtle hint of candle wax, which mingles harmoniously with the soothing aroma of bergamot, rosemary, and a gentle whisper of aged brandy that is unmistakably him.

You aren't surprised when his sharp red eyes lock with yours, a silent understanding passing between you. The blankets wrap around both of you, cocooning you in their comforting embrace. Your legs intertwine with his, creating an intimate tangle beneath the covers. With tenderness, you lift your hand, feeling the coolness of his cheek as your touch meets his pale skin. "We'll get through this, my love..." you whisper, your voice a gentle melody in the quiet night.

His eyes flutter closed as your fingertips gently glide over his chiseled, smooth chest, accompanied by the soft sound of his contented sigh. "I know, my star..." he murmurs, his words barely audible, the sound blending with the gentle rhythm of your breathing. His eyes, filled with unwavering resolve, find yours once more, a silent promise reflected within their depths... and...

Suddenly, your body jolts forward, disoriented as you awaken. The cold, hard floor beneath you goes unnoticed in the initial moments, your vision still blurred. As you struggle to regain your senses, a distinct aroma of musty old books and damp earth fills the air. Gradually, as the dimly lit room gradually comes into focus, your groggy mind registers the presence of the vampire ascendant kneeling beside you, his hands firmly gripping your shoulders, shaking you awake. Through the haze, you hear their gasp, a combination of concern and surprise. "Hells, Tav, what's gotten into you?" their voice echoes in your ears as they pull your dazed body into their strong, crushing embrace.

You refuse to let on the dream you had, though you risk playing it over and over again in your mind. If you had to choose between living every day of the rest of your life with this... mockery of the man you love. Or relive that night before Cazador over and over with the real Astarion...

Well... at least you answered one question.

...Slumberthorn vine toxin doesn't need to break skin to be effective.

____________________________________________________________________________

"Remember, you are merely an observer..." He reminds you for the millionth time and deliberately ignores as your eyes roll again, though you do motion to him that your lips are sealed.

Upon returning to the balcony with him, the jeweler was dismissed until a more suitable time. But you weren't in any mood to play the obedient "consort" any longer, and you adamantly refused to put on the ring, which, of course, ignited yet another heated argument.

Needless to say, you were itching for the day to conclude. Why did you even need an engagement ring when everyone knew by now who you were? More like what you were.

You both enter the sitting room without acknowledging the two guards standing watch outside, their presence nothing more than an afterthought. But you still freeze in place when you step through the doors and enter. Astarion teases - his mischievous voice fills the air and sends a thrill down your spine as he playfully remarks, "It's not the first time the staff have cleaned viscera, my sweet." You stand there, completely awestruck by the sight in front of you. The room, once a gruesome mess, now gleams with pristine cleanliness, not a trace of blood or severed fingers left behind.

Your eyes were so fixated on the transformation that you failed to notice the presence of two figures standing near the couch and table, their dark robes flowing and white masks concealing their identities. As you take in the familiar attire, memories flood your mind, reminding you of a certain friend and the House of Grief.

You glance at Astarion and realize he is purposefully keeping you behind him. Though you sense no danger, it's as if he's merely sending a message. "And what news do my kingdom's resident Sharrans bring? Progress on the Unamina?" He inquires as he slowly crosses the room, with you close behind.

One of them locks their arms behind their back. "Indeed. The mother superior herself departed some time ago in search of the necessary components and sent word of her success. Now all that remains is a suitable location." They spoke confidently, their partner extending their gloved hand and offering a wooden case for protecting a scroll.

Astarion's eyes light with an expression you can't read and don't like. His grin proudly displaying his fangs as he, a tad too quickly, accepts the scroll case into his hands. "Wonderful! And what of her return? How soon should I have the carpet rolled out?" He chuckled, tucking the case under his arm closest to you. This wooden case was far from ordinary; it possessed an air of magic, with its shimmering, decorative adornments. Somehow sinister and foreboding in nature...

"Soon. Two days, perhaps three." The other replied, clasping their hands in front of them. "It was far from simple to procure the scroll. The Nightsinger will expect adequate repayment from you, Godking Ancunín, for utilizing her faithful in such a way."

"It is only because of my grace that her church thrives in my kingdom. The least she could do was loan me her toys for this little treasure hunt of mine." He mutters, rapidly losing interest in the Sharrans as he lifts and studies the scroll case in the chandelier's light above his head.

You could feel their eyes studying you from behind their creepy white masks, if only for a moment. "The Mo—"

Astarion tightly tucks the case under his arm again, his piercing glare locks onto the pair. "Tell her," he commands, his voice commanding yet smooth, "to come straight to the palace upon her arrival. I'll ensure preparations are made that she receives a worthy welcome." He gracefully pivots on his feet, the sound of his expensive shoes clicking against the polished wooden floor. "Our business here is concluded," he declares with authority. "Please see yourselves out." With a snap of his fingers, the two guards outside stride inside, seemingly already aware of their orders.

Like you have all day, you shadow Astarion, but not before you steal a quick glance over your shoulder at the two Sharrans. Of course, you have a myriad of questions. What were they doing finding... whatever that scroll is? Why would the Sharrans and the Ascendant work together at all? Could Viconia still be alive and in charge of the Baldur's Gate cloister? Did your alternate self help this world's Shadowheart kill that bitch?

Shadowheart... you miss her terribly. You miss all of your companions, but you formed a deep bond with the cleric.

It's been a century and a half since the other you died, so who knows how long it's been since the Absolute crisis. You vaguely recall that Halsin has also passed in this world, but you can't remember how exactly you know that. Unless Wyll and Gale found means of prolonging their human lifespans, they've likely passed on. Same for Karlach and her engine, and Lae'zel - assuming your favorite Gith didn't return to the Astral Plane. Shadowheart was about fifty years old when you met her. On average, half-elves can live for about a hundred and fifty to two hundred years. If, and it's a significant if, she's still alive, she would be in the twilight years of her life. Assuming assassins or the like haven't taken her out.

Gods, this is so depressing...

The sound of the door closing echoes in the room, snapping you back to the present moment. You realize you're back in Astarion's bedchamber. Where you've been sleeping since the night he learned of your urges.

He carefully placed the case on a dresser that was pressed against the wall, creating a soft thump. He fumbled through his pants pocket to retrieve the small box and extended the ring toward you. You turn away, arms crossed, and he lets out a deep, exasperated sigh. "What do I need to do to sway you into wearing it?" Astarion asks, vexed by your behavior.

Nothing. There is absolutely no chance that I will ever wear it - is what you want to say. That you picked one out at all means nothing. It was just a cute ring...

Frustration boils within you, leading you to flail your arms aimlessly for a brief moment as you grapple with your inner turmoil. What you want to say and what would make sense are in opposition. "You... you never even took the time to propose to me properly!" you scoff, glancing away and tightly crossing your arms once more.

"Properly?" He inquires, his tone laced with bewilderment rather than frustration, as he cocks an eyebrow.

"Yes... Unless you consider forcefully taking me against my will as your bizarre idea of a romantic gesture..." You have absolutely no clue what is coming out of your mouth. Why are you acting like this?

Astarion's eyes twinkled with amusement as his lips curled into a smile filled with... happiness, then carefully placed the ring on the dresser next to the scroll case. "Very well. Perhaps I'll organize something of that nature while you're away tomorrow."

Now it's your turn to be puzzled. He can't possibly mean what you think he means... "Apart from your momentary lapse of judgement today, I have been pleased to see improvements in your behavior, and I am inclined to recognize and reward your growth. We can go over the particulars after you've rested." He explains with a calm and patient demeanor, taking measured steps towards you. Shrugging off his shirt and tossing it carelessly to the floor.

His feather-light touch delicately brushes against your cheek, sending a tingling sensation through your skin. His slender fingers leisurely trace a path downwards, their gentle caress leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. Eventually, they settle beneath your chin, cradling it affectionately. Tenderly, he lifts it slowly, bringing your lips closer to his, the minuscule distance between you teasingly suspended.

"You wouldn't dare run from your home - would you, my queen?" he murmurs, his voice a velvety purr that resonates deeply within you. You shiver at his words... the accusation they carry. Toying with you, he continues. "That would be very foolish, wouldn't it, pet? You are mine. Completely and unequivocally. There is not a rock in all of Toril you could hide under that I would not find you, darling." His voice is dripping with a honeyed sweetness that conceals an underlying threat.

Then he closes the miniscule distance between your lips. Sealing his words with a gentle, sweet kiss. Amidst the tender exchange, you manage to blurt out, "What's in the case?" Each word escapes between the fleeting kisses.

Astarion's lips curl into a smug smile, their warmth grazing against yours, creating a soft and lingering touch, accompanied by the faint sound of his satisfied sigh that tickles your senses. With a delicate gesture, his fingers caress your skin, gently tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear. An arm encircles your waist, creating a tender embrace that simultaneously holds a hint of possessiveness. As he pulls you against him, you can feel the strength in his touch, both gentle and forceful and it sends a shiver down your spine. Then, he whispers, his voice laced with determination, promising, "The means to ensure nothing can ever take you from me."

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-

Batstarion ring? Sad dream? A potential way to cure your bhaalspawn-ery? Sharrans? Mysterious scrolls?

A lot to chew on this chapter.

…So previous Tav was NOT a Dark Urge… Hm.

[maxwell-grant]

thoughts on Tekken8 so far ?

Not too many, I have mostly mixed feelings on Tekken stuff but:

Okay this rules, this is a killer fucking idea for a fighting game story mode. I was actually just thinking the other day about how a lot of modern fighting games with big story modes can't really integrate the tournament structure into the story, so it's either not there or it becomes a schrodinger's tournament. But here there's no mistaking it, there is a King of Iron Fist tournament being held and fighters the world over are invited to join with their lives and with the lives of their ENTIRE COUNTRIES riding on the line. This rules, this fucking rules, I'm pissed Street Fighter didn't do this first because this is the most M.Bison idea that is also a way better plot than anything M.Bison ever did, fuck yeah.

I've heard this described as Tekken doing the Cell Games and having never watched Dragon Ball I'll have to take their word for it.

Don't care about Jin, never have really, but I am at least marginally curious as to how they'll square "Jin you are the light and hope of this world you are the hero of everything you must save us all" and "you totally fucking killed millions of people for no reason with that WW3 stunt dude". Love that Kazuya throws this in his face like, you weak little shit, you think you're putting me down? You think YOU have some kind of body count? Well it's just gonna keep growing watch this *BWOOOOOM

Tekken has spent a loooot of games running in a loooot of circles around the Mishima bloodline drama so this game promising to blow things out of proportion, with Heihachi dead (so far) and Kazuya cutting loose and the entire world seriously on the line, well okay that has my interest.

Gotta be honest folks, up until now I actually hated Azucena. Decent design, Peruvian representation is extremely rare and I was super on board for that, really liked for a beat how her fighting style's meant to abuse Tekken's 3D space with a lot of dodging and swaying... but then the character started talking and, oh great, she only talks about food, she's a gimmick character that only talks about her gimmick, here comes the next annoying latin-american stereotype that the gringos just find sooo charming and sexy and funny, here comes the next El Fuerte/Laura/Zarina, and all my interest died.

And then the latest story trailer revealed that she's happily teaming up with the G Corporation (and by extension Kazuya, you know, the guy currently raining fire and murder on the entire planet) because they make for "better brand optics for my coffee" and, huh. Well. Turns out she's a total piece of shit! The "beloved for her innocent personality" thing was a dead giveaway looking at it now. Turns out she's a business major cracking winks and poses while tanks and soldiers steamroll the land and people around her. You hear a lot of stories growing up here about plantation owners being cutthroat ghouls and I must admit, it's pretty great seeing that as the twist on a typically obnoxious Disney inclusivity cartoon person, feels very topical. Maybe it is just a rehash of Lucky Chloe's twist but Lucky Chloe wasn't that inspired to begin with where as this feels a bit more thought out. I expect to be ultimately dissappointed but it sure got me almost kinda liking her a bit.

Big year for evil women in fighting games.

Feels like Tekken was just bound to have a Nick Fury at some point with other fighting games elevating characters to that position, but it is pretty weird that this a thing, right? I guess when they're going more into world-threatening stakes and characters teaming up being treated like an Avengers gathering you kinda need a Nick Fury or several to glue that nonsense together. Anyway, Victor's pretty cool. Kinda shocked that he's the first French character in Tekken apparently.

It's not easy to make me like espionage-themed characters in fighting games but he's got enough style to him that I appreciate. He's just Vincent Cassel if he was a John Wick guy with a weird Final Fantasy sword but that's not like a bad combo by any means, really just seems like Harada really wanted to put a guy he likes from da movies in there. It's the Kojima impulse but hey, if it works and the voice acting isn't terrible (like a certain other studio, seriously how do you manage to get such lackluster material out of J.K Simmons doing Omni-Man), I'm cool with it.

I'm not too sure what to think of Reina? I feel like that's gonna be entirely dependant on her role in the game, because the other two are fairly throwaway characters where as her they seem to be putting a lot of stock in. I kinda like her design although I appreciate it better in fan art that lets her actually emote and look mean, the in-game face is just way too dull for what she's doing. I like the ego she's got and that she can back it up, that she's this new mystery newcomer with potential arriving to shake up the scene. I think a lot about her would be very generic and forgettable if it wasn't backed up by her mean punk personality and power, which I really appreciate. She kinda feels like if Asuka wasn't a joke. I'm just curious as to what her actual role is gonna be, and while I don't think she's gonna be a full blown villain the way Kazuya is, I'm gonna be pretty dissappointed if she just immediately slides into being a hanger-on hero. So I'm just waiting for more on her with cautious optimism.

I hope Heihachi never comes back because A: it's just wrong to have him without Unsho Ishizuka to voice him, and B: I hope they never ruin the humor of "Yeah he's dead dead but he has at least 20 bastard children all over the world and at least one of them is gunning for the throne so if you thought he was done causing problems or that the Mishima Bloodline would end with Jin, lmao"

[tobiasdrake]

Circling the truth. Our benefactor's getting antsy. What else does he have in store?

Who knows? I found Vivia's last bauble so we're doing that instead.

We all have our own methods of keeping our brains sharp. I play picross for an idle activity.

It's a lot of fun to read fiction about a subject you're an expert in. Then you get to laugh at how absolutely fucking stupid this writer is about everything.

Or it could be frustrating for that same reason. Depends on your personality. I know a guy who loathes science fiction; Can't get into the stories at all because he's constantly obsessing over how batshit wrong the science is.

Classic noir setup. Continue.

Ooo, plot twist.

This is sort of relevant to the dynamic we're now in with Kurumi. It's not 1:1 but nonetheless, we are privy to a cruel truth about her very existence. Yuma's only pieced together some of it, mind. Nonetheless, the truth that awaits her is cruel.

Vivia reminding us of that theme at the 11th hour. As we move in to confront Makoto's truth, Vivia wants us to remember what he's been about this whole time. To question if exposing a cruel truth is really the right thing to do?

You may be taking the Ship of Theseus a bit far with that one, Vivia.

Yuma's finally learning how to interpret Vivia. This does seem like an intimate conundrum, which Vivia himself doesn't know the answer to, doesn't it?

If Vivia must have a past, he prefers for it to be multiple-choice.

Vivia Twilight was a cool goth dude from the moment we met him, and only became cooler and more goth with every passing moment. There's not a lot to say about him because he's so straightforward and earnest about who he is.

He likes to read and lounge in unconventional places. His philosophy that sometimes a mystery doesn't need to be solved flies in the face of WDO's creed, in a good way.

Vivia is exactly the kind of detective who would see Charles Augustus Milverton shot to death by one of his victims and declare, "My sympathies are with the criminals; I will not solve this case." Given how hard the WDO and especially Yuma go on "All truths must be revealed, This Is The Way", it's refreshing to have this viewpoint reflected somewhere.

I liked him from the moment I met him, and I came to like him even more over time. He's a well-meaning young man who cares first and foremost for doing what will most help people, in whatever form that must take. I applaud him for that flexibility.

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Happy Saturday~ One more or less serious reply + a bunch of silly ones today.

Anonymous asked:

I absolutely love the way you draw everyone in twisted wonderland. I know some out there don’t agree who you ship, but I think otherwise. The way you draw the characters is always amazingly done and I can tell how much you worked on them.

You are an amazing artist so if anyone disagrees then just remember you have some fans out there including me!

Thank you for your support and love, Anon! I always talk about how we didn’t expect anyone at all to enjoy our content, our ships and our thoughts about them, and honestly it still feels bizarre. It’s been a bit more than a year now, and thinking about how anxious we were about posting some of this stuff before is really weird now. So I really can’t stress it enough: hearing your words of support really means a lot. These characters and ships are really dear to us, and as long as we feel passionate about them, we’ll keep posting them <3 I’m very glad you can see our passion for the characters in our drawings! So thank you so much for enjoying the way we see them.

Even though, once again, we don’t expect everyone to like everything that we post. But when people do, it’s very cool.

Anonymous asked:

Idia wouldn’t build a sex machine? Please. He already did; his name is Ortho.

OHHHHHHHHHHH 😭 good point, good point.

The most intense and dangerous sex machine that’s constantly learning new things, what an impressive invention. Shame on you, Idia.

blackbutlerfandomnerddomain asked:

What is your hot take of Lilia and Azul mainly becoming friends to swap tips and talk about their boys' (Malleus and Idia) noises and expressions? Like do you think one would be curious and ask for video evidence or maybe the pair would bang in the same room

On the one hand, I feel like Lilia doesn’t treat Azul seriously enough to consider this (i.e. Azul is way too desperate), plus I’m not sure if Lilia and Malleus’ affair is a secret or not. But on the other hand, Lilia loves talking about his boys way too much, so I can see how Azul could get him talking. You just ask correct questions, and at some point Lilia just starts going “oh yeah that one time Malleus really did this thing…” and spilling way too much information to Azul, possibly the worst person to have this conversation with lol And Lilia would also be very interested in Azul’s stories about Idia, mainly because Idia intrigues him.

I can’t believe this actually could work wow.

But would they bang in the same room? Honestly, Lilia and Azul both are kind of unhinged, so if the starts alignm it could happen. It would be such an amazing networking event for Azul lol but at the same time, Azul and Idia both are way too shy to do something like this~

Anonymous asked:

So like I MOSTLY ship Lilia/Idia for the age gap and dichotomy of it all. A charismatic old man who looks like he's a short, cute kid with a tall scrawny emotional wreck of a teenager is just SO inherently fun all on it's own. It's a blast. But also, I have been thinking about this more seriously lately because my faaavorite thing about sleeping beauty that's almost never carried over to remakes is the dramatic irony with aurora and philip's relationship

A princess who doesn't know she's a princess falls in love with a prince who she doesn't know she's engaged to, but she finds out she's engaged and doesn't even know that she's engaged to him. There's a lot you can do to play around with that in a story, where the audience knows this but the characters don't. It's super fun!!! When all the pieces come together in the end, it's really satisfying too!!!!

I'm always disappointed when remakes cut out the dramatic irony of it all, so in twst, despite nothing like that happening with silver outside of the princess part lol I can see a lot of similarities with Lilia and Idia being online friends who don't know that they actually know each other irl, and I won't spoil it here, but some events that have gone down in book 7 make me really excited to see if there will be more references to aurora and philip's relationship between them. I'm suuuuch a big fan of it I'm PUMPED!!!!!!!!!

First of all! I absolutely agree about what you said about Lilia/Idia’s visual and characteristic contrast (well this isn’t surprising to hear lol): they’re just stupidly fun to look at and watch. The age gap also adds a lot to their dynamic.

Second of all, yeah THE COMPARISON REALLY MAKES A LOT OF SENSE. The fact that Lilia and Idia are so close already without even realising makes this ship so amazingly interesting and sweet and funny and cute and hot and dramatic at the same time!! And while I don’t know what exactly you’re referring to (you already know, we haven’t watched book7 yet), but we’ve been thinking about the main story giving Lilidia a painfully tasty moment for a long time now. Yana Toboso looooves her setups and long games with satisfying payoffs, and she’s definitely been preparing something for these two.

Fun fact: Aurora has been my absolute favourite Disney Princess, and even though we’re yet to rewatch the Sleeping Beauty, your ask really got me excited about it. And about book 7 too..! I’m really looking forward to it.

[blackjackkent]

🥳🎁 your turn friend :D

(Fanfic Writer Ask Game)

🥳 Why did you start writing fanfic?

I've gone through a couple fanfic "phases" and it always kicks off when I get really hyperfixated on something and start thinking about the scenes we don't see and want to make them happen in some fashion. And then when I get comments/feedback, it just feeds the hyperfixation and I come up with more ideas and keep writing and it becomes a habit. XD

(Also shoutout to @springagainafter who is primarily responsible for my long-standing liveblogging habit which I guess also qualifies as fanfic and which I've been doing longer than any other systematic writing really. I started doing that all the way back in my Mass Effect fandom days and got very addicted to the feeling of tracking a character very closely all the way through a story and feeling out how they grow and develop. c: )

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

Spent some time today working on Chapter 4 of Open Your Eyes purely so that I could have a response for this question. XD Who says ask memes aren't productive?

(This has been edited very little so apologies for rough edges. XD )

"Where are we, exactly?" Jaheira asks, looking around with narrowed eyes. Of course, she can tell the general answer at a glance, though it doesn't fill her with particular joy. Rasaad has led them to the sewers.  The ladder has dropped them off in an enormous stone tunnel, a good thirty feet wide. Flickering torches are set into the wall at regular intervals, little dots of orange stretching in a long line into the darkness.  Down the center of the tunnel flows a thick river of dark brown sludge. She gasps deep lungfuls of the blessedly cool air as they all catch their breath from their panicked run through the alleys above, and in the process gets flooded with the all-too-familiar smell - a mixture of rotting meat, offal, and garbage, intense enough to make her eyes water. Caden grins crookedly. "Hitting all the old favorites today, aren't we?" he quips. "Fog cloud escapes, angry guards, sewer run. Next thing you know, we'll be sleeping in a shitty inn and having Minsc carry fifteen broken swords to trade for a healing potion." Imoen snorts. "Hey, it's already beating out the Gate sewers. Look - they adventurer-proofed the place. Walkways and everything." She indicates the long causeways that line the sewer tunnel on either side; they're nearly five feet wide and constructed of high-quality cobblestone. "Treating us right." Rasaad doesn't laugh; he barely seems to hear them. He squints down the long dim tunnel with a preoccupied air. "We are at the edge of the Shackles Ward," he answers Jaheira tersely. "One of the poorest districts of the city. It was the first place I could find an entrance not guarded by amlakkar. They have stepped up their attention to the Muzad since I lived here." Jaheira frowns, leaning against the wall. She feels the damp condensation soak through her shirt, mixing with the lingering sweat from the desert heat above. "You didn't know that the city had put out a watch for you?" she asks quietly. He shakes his head. "No," he mutters. "The Sun Soul has a history of handling its own affairs. You have seen this - they sent the Tears of Selune after me." He scowls bitterly. "But that was many years ago. It appears their concern regarding me has escalated." He is doing a creditable job hiding his agitation, but Jaheira knows him too well. There’s an anxious crease in his forehead at the place where his eyebrows come together, and his black eyes glitter in the flickering torchlight. He is standing very still as he always does, no fidgeting, no wasted movement - but there is a vibrating tension to the set of his shoulders that tells her his inward thoughts are a maelstrom.  Impulsively she reaches out, rests the tips of her fingers against his arm. He releases a sharp outward breath and for a moment she sees a flash of regret twist across his face. Then he jerks his arm away and his expression hoods over, unreadable again. “This changes nothing,” he says, suddenly brisk. “The Muzad - the Undercity - stretches to every corner of Calimport. We will find our way to the monastery by this route, and then I shall be able to speak to my brothers without the interference of the amlakkar.” “Of course,” Caden says, with the faintest flicker of dry humor. “Very simple.”

[big-ass-magnet]

top 5 fav things YOU'VE written??? 😏 (BRAG, BRAG, BRAG!!! heheh)

AND THE OTHER ONE I forgot to post. Most of my favorites are my long,multi-chapter fic, probably because I'm just so relieved to have actually finished them lmao.

Lover Boy : TMNT 2014 fic about the boys telling Verne to stop flirting with April. Not necessarily for the fic itself (although it is very good, if I do say so myself) but because it led to multiple people messaging me to say they loved it, and making a lot of fandom friends, plus one who became one of my best real life friends (hello snoofs!!!)

When History Comes Calling: Twin Shepards AU - One Shepard became Commander, but the other was dragged away by batarians and made into an emotionless killing machine. Kiryn finds out his sister is alive, and tries to grapple with having feelings again. One of my most ambitious fics, with plot and emotions and character development and everything! I think it's some of my best writing, and by god one of these days I'll write the companion piece.

Might Haves, Maybes, and Never Weres, specifically Consider Krem. It's a few 'what if' stories, but Consider Krem - what happens to Iron Bull in Trespasser if you don't do his loyalty quest. I wrote this years ago and I still get people reblogging it and saying how much it hurt them. It makes me really happy to be able to share my emotional pain with others :3

The Mirror Crack'd From Side to Side - Guillermo is found badly beaten on the side of the road, with no memories of the last thirteen years. Suffering the trauma from an event he can't remember, he tries to put himself back together. Another very ambitious fic of mine, with a really cool twist if I do say so myself. Heavily inspired by Harrow the Ninth, in what I hope is a good way.

5. As Yet Unpublished Girl Genius Fic - The next edition in the 'doting but demonstrably evil Grandfather Saturnus' AU, about how Agatha goes from sad little nobody companion to the remains of the ruling family, to the Lady Heterodyne herself.

It's long, it's action packed, it's about 80 pages and it's only the first draft (and still needs the final chapter completed). I worked really hard on this one and I'm really pleased with how it's turning out!

[basedkikuenjoyer]

Jojolands - First Impressions

That’s what we’re doing here. I know I haven’t really delved into Jojo’s much before, but I know several of my mutuals are big into it and I am at least a fan of this bizarre multi-generational adventure. Still need to finish Part 8 but honestly...I’ll probably just wait for the anime. It’s too confusing for me to properly binge the manga. I’ll keep any actual spoilers under the cut, but first...

I’m sold. This intro chapter hooked me more than Stone Ocean. I’ve never really been into JJBA for the plot, I like what my boyfriend said when I got him to watch the dub. “This is one where you’re just here to enjoy the experience.” If I put it in art terms, something like One Piece is a very traditional story. It’s not exactly breaking a lot of new territory, more perfecting an established style. Jojo’s? That’s abstract art. Sure there’s an overarching story to each part and how they tie together, but you’re mostly just enjoying the vibe. And oh my god do I love everything about this vibe in Part 9. First and foremost though...

My newest beloved blorbo Dragona. Just gonna say this now and get it out of the way; it’s as worth getting hung up on pronouns as it is that clip of Izo referring to Kiku as his “brother.” Differing norms are going to make this finicky, especially when we’re talking about a Japanese author writing about Hawaii as a setting through the viewpoint of a 15yo younger brother. Little different, but I live in an area with a lot of Marshall Islanders. You sorta get used to it. We could ultimately find out Dragona is as much a “woman at heart” as someone like Kiku and referring to him as such still makes sense in context. Especially with an older Japanese author and there still very much being a mindset of like, not using “transgender” to refer to anyone except someone who has fully transitioned and treating it like a man becoming a woman there. Make sense?

All that to say, use your eyes and common sense over getting hung up on specific words. I’ll probably casually use she/her most of the time because it’s hard not to. Everything I see so far suggests Dragona also acts pretty girly and hell...I’ve known 18yo trans folk existing in a space like this while they sort themselves out. We’re clearly going for something in that bubble, I’m sure Dragona will have more room to clarify...it’s Jojo’s, just roll with it. Because by all accounts we’re looking at the sane, reasonable one in the group. And that’s cool, I’m definitely keeping an eye on this pair from the perspective of wondering if maybe, just maybe Araki was a little influenced by a certain pair of samurai “brothers” who like to play with similar territory. If nothing else, our introduction does show, not tell that absent being informed most people are going to read Dragona as female. Curious about those “cosmetic injections” as well.

With that out of the way, I adore our introduction to these new Joestars. Sets the time, locale, everything so well. They’re rocking out to Dua Lipa, hassled by dickhead cops, name dropping covid, cops one up the racism with transphobia. Then our best bros fuck em up. Awesome. These parts since Stone Ocean all track with an AU version of a previous part, and I love that we don’t waste time showing off our new cast as a twist on Passione from Vento Aureo. Though this time we aren’t screwing around with noble intentions. This is all about getting filthy rich and I’m here for it. Especially with my second love from this first chapter.

This bitch. Who is, without a doubt, 100% that bitch. If she has a Stand please let it be Lizzo inspired. Speaking of Stands, Jodio’s November Rain is cool looking and I like the reference...but of course Dragona is the better one with a nod to the absolutely legendary slow jam Smooth Operator. Given the similarities I love the jokes about “Sex Reassignment Pistols” Fun fact, 80s wrestler and guy who looks like he walked straight out of a porno “Ravishing” Rick Rude would sometimes use that song as entrance music. Does it sound like fight music? Nah, but he made it werk. Where the hell was I?

Right, let’s steal this diamond! Good hook, I’m invested and we have the gang together. Although I know this series well enough to know we’ll probably find a better motivation along the way (please be nice to momma and Beach Boy’s reference Barbra Ann Araki, she’s so loving) for now I love focusing on a gang of scrunkly criminals who make no bones about it. Jodio’s going to school solely to sell drugs, Dragona and Boss Bitch Meryl seem to have a lovely bond. Like I said, a part hasn’t hooked me this well since introducing Jolyene ashamed to have been caught paddlin’ the pink canoe. Part where I just died though...

Two words were all I needed to see to know Araki did his research on the islands. Spam Onigiri. It makes sense if you know the history, soldiers in WW2 brought Spam with them to a lot of these islands because it’s easy meat to ship and stockpile. It became popular trading fodder with locals, they still very much consume a lot to this day. Because it’s also something you don’t have to worry about taking a while to ship. And there are some dope Polynesian recipes built around using it these days. I’ve just personally always found that a fun quirk from the Marshall Islanders I know and past experience with people from Hawaii, Guam, etc. Will never forget a lab partner from Guam in college, said something about it and he was just gobsmacked. Had been going his whole time here wondering why it was so hard to find certain flavors on the mainland. 

Anyways, that was a lot of disjointed rambling to say I’m very excited about Part 9. Disjointed rambling is on theme though because it’s Jojos. Nothing bad is allowed to happen to Dragona or Barbara Ann. Paco and the weird guy? Meh. Jodio’s great because he’s a scruffy no-goodnik and proud of it.

[starrysharks]

today, i watched 'saw V', and i actually REALLY LIKED IT IT WAS GREAT ‼️‼️

firstly, the story here is actually quite simple once you cross the hurdles of not being able to tell hoffman and strahm apart (had to look down at the neck area to check for the bandage whenever a black haired white man appeared on screen), and piece together the timeline yourself - though after a good few flashbacks i was able to make sense of what was going on. the plot revolving around the 5 stuck in the trap was reminiscent of saw II but still very unique and interesting - their hostility towards each other which subsequently led to their deaths was also pretty cool, and i like how if they had worked together, they would've survived.

while the ending twist was something that was kinda obvious about 10 minutes before it was revealed, i still :0'd when the theme started playing because the ending coffin/walls closing in trap was super cool! in fact all the traps here are solid - my favorites being of course the final hoffman/strahm doomed yaoi trap and the murderer guy's trap from the beginning. the gore here is also great - i really like the look of the intestines practical effect (at least i think it's practical effects) that they've been using. the aftermath of the blood box trap with the split apart arms was also gross and cool. the editing also holds up now - still silly and overdramatic as ever, but the sound effects that they've been using (like the pig squeal when kramer and hoffman attack the barbed wire trap guy/phil) are really fun. the colors in this movie are also genuinely gorgeous and set the tone and atmosphere of the scenes amazingly.

the saw series of course is still suffering from its convolutedness which is worsening with each chapter. sometimes i really have no clue what's going on - that being said, sometimes they'll express the obvious (like with strahm stating everything he found out which we just saw) which feels a little patronising. even so, this movie was a lot more enjoyable and engaging than IV. i can't believe it took a recession for saw to git gud again. 3.7/5, toxic yaoi not as good as the classic bathroom boys but still an admirable attempt. saw VI, pretty please show us what was in jill's box and also where gordon is. thx 🙏🏿

[howellslides]

.

i filtered out all the good omens posts from my dash but i just finished it last night and so i have no idea if this is an unpopular opinion buttttttttt i was not impressed with this season :(

(this is just gonna be me talking about my thoughts on it)

last season felt so tight! so snappy! we saw the puzzle pieces being laid out and then we saw them fit together!

this season i was shocked i was on episode five because i thought we were still in the exposition phase, because not much of note really... happened?

the twist at the end felt very rushed. there were not nearly enough hints to explain why gabriel and beeelzebub fell in love, it was literally just "oh btw here's the answer to the mystery, k bye".

also, this is my personal pet peeve, but i hate when characters get woobified, and literally all of hell got woobified SO BAD. everyone was just "oh dear oh no what do we doooooo", and it wasn't in a "we just got humiliated in front of heaven and satan himself" it was just, everyone was just kind of pathetic. i wasn't scared by any of the demons. and crowley got woobified too, a lil bit, but at least it wasn't too bad.

especially beelzebub. i felt like s1 beelzebub was actually evil. i felt like s2 beelzebub was just uwu i'm in a bad place teehee.

and honestly i feel like they could cut all the flashbacks in half. the job thing could've mostly stuck to the end bit where he got his children back, maybe a scene or two before that (the blue lizard thing was cute, though). the graverobbing was mostly alright, although crowley being drunk really dragged on. the magic show one was the worst specifically because it felt like it ruined the moment from last season :(

maggie and nina also could've been cut in half. or at least, their story could've been their own story, not just used as a mirror for crowley to realize he needed to make a move. especially when beelzebub and gabriel were also a mirror for him to make a move. i would've liked it better if they instead told the pair of them off for meddling with their personal lives and went their separate ways.

(also i didn't neeeeeed nina to talk about everything everything from before, but if they weren't even connect her to her past at least a little bit, why use the same actor)

(also? it would've been way cuter if, plot twist, the jane austen thing did nothing for nina and maggie, but did work on crowley. no "hey look at what these other people are doing", just "look at how special my angel is")

i did like aziraphale's ending, though. i know a lot of people were heartbroken by it (that much slipped past my filters) but as a story device, that was kinda cool. it did feel like it could've been more midseason than finale thing. it would've been cooler if his flashbacks to learning real world morals vs heavenly morals were juxtaposed with him actually having some say in heaven. you could still have him choosing to "make a difference" up there at the end of it, because the dude has spent thousands of years being told that that's the right thing to do.

and then it would be even more heartbreaking for crowley, feeling like he's lost him. as it was, i honestly wasn't really moved by the kiss at all. sorry. the way it was framed felt oddly fanservice-y.

anyway. i still enjoyed the show, the humour was still enchanting, and i love the way it critiques power structures and the idea of "good". but the overarching plot this season was. just not impressive to me.

[foxounderscorecube]

Foul Lady Fortune - Chloe Gong

4½ ⭐

This was a good story!

I don't read many spy novels, so I don't know if it was especially tropey or anything like that, but the political climate in this book is so complex and really fun to try to unpick. I think there's a lot of foreshadowing and breadcrumb trails that'll be more obvious on a re-read - there was certainly enough of that that I was able to piece some bits together (and feel very proud of myself for doing so!), which was really cool.

The romance element is incredibly cute and agh, they were both so silly… I wanted to be like "just kiss!" except they'd already kissed. "Just kiss but with your real feelings", I guess? On the face of it, where it's ice queen and playboy and oh no, they have to pretend to be married, I'm sure they certainly won't catch feelings, it didn't really appeal to me, but their relationship grew naturally and I got really invested in it. When it turned out Orion was the one committing the attacks, and his guilt and horror at what he'd done - not just in general, but also how he'd betrayed Rosalind - ah, pain! Just awful!

I think the only thing that I wasn't a big fan of was that, although the vast majority of the twists were great, I wasn't wholly convinced by the reveal at the end. Maybe on a re-read it'll seem less like it was pulled out of Gong's arse that Orion's mum was behind it, but as is, it was just kind of like. Oh. Huh. Whereas a lot of the other reveals I responded to out loud or at least did a :O kind of face, you know? Nonetheless, I am absolutely going to read the sequel because I HAVE to know what happens next.

Phoebe/Feiyi is the best character. Absolute brilliance in bimbo form. A queen. Her being Priest was a reveal that I didn't see coming, but makes perfect sense. So in character for her - right down to her acting jealous that Silas was listening to recordings of Priest so often. I love her. I'm a big fan of Alisa, too, and Celia and Oliver are adorable together. Honestly, I enjoyed all the characters a lot - and the fact that you're perpetually side-eyeing all of them because there's so many double-agents and secrets and layers to everything.

One thing I will comment on, although I don't know if it's a piece of criticism or not myself, is that I thought some of Rosalind's poison weapons were a bit silly. They were good fun and I liked them, but for a book that overall seems to want to be taken seriously, it seems a bit too campy and pulp fiction-y to have, like, heels that snap off and if you hit them just right a dagger comes out; or an entire blowgun and darts that are just sneakily hidden in a qipao. Most of them are just fine with a little suspension of disbelief, but a few are like, okay, you had fun thinking this up and I'm glad, but come on.

Basically, I liked this novel a lot. I do think it could have been a bit shorter, maybe? but then again, I suppose better that than it feeling rushed.

[chickenandwafflesandtv]

Death Parade Season 1

At first I had no interest in watching this show, but after hearing a little more about it, my interest was piqued!

I'm back! And no more rewatching shows! We're here this week with 2 shows that I've never seen before, but have both been on my watch list because one of my favorite voice actors, Ian Sinclair, is in both of them.

DEATH PARADE SEASON 1

I had heard of the existence of this show in passing but I didn't know anything about it. The first actual thing I learned was that it had a banging opening theme song. As someone who has a playlist over over 120 songs where I put all my favorite anime themes, I knew I had to look into it. It does go pretty hard. I also heard it had a cool plot, which intrigued me even more. Who doesn't love a cool plot?

BACKGROUND

When two people die at the exact same moment, they aren't sent straight to Heaven or Hell. They're sent to a bar in which the two souls must play a randomly selected game to determine their fate: rebirth or the void. Of course, they don't know this. They don't even know that they're dead. They appear in the bar with no memories of how they got there or what happened before. As they play the game, they slowly regain their memories while their bartenders, in the focus of the show it's a man named Decan and a girl referred to as the "black-haired woman", look through the memories and current behaviors in the bar to determines if they were "good" or "evil". Theres also a secondary plot about the black-haired woman, how she got to the bar, and why she's different.

REVIEW

This show went above and beyond. I thought the initial plot was super interesting, but I got nervous when it started to go a little deeper in the plot, I thought I would start to get disconnected from it, but this show did a great job with combining the two and keeping anything from dragging on too long. With each episode pretty much focusing on a different pair of people playing a different game, there was no chance for monotony or repetition, everything felt very eye-catching. The different ways the characters died, their reactions to it, their stories: all of these pieces melded together to create some delicious entertainment. All of the episodes were filled with awesome plot twists, which I greatly enjoyed.

SIGN OFF

Fortunately for me, they announced there's going to be a second season! Unfortunately, they announced it 6 years ago and there have been no updates since then. Will it actually be produced? Or will it end up lost in the drafts like Yuri!!! on Ice's Ice Adolescence. Who knows!

See you in a few days!

9/27/22 6:37pm

[curemoonliite]

4 and 10 for MLP

4) Do you have a NoTP in your fandom? Are they a popular OTP?

go back to sleep coco x mosely isn't real it only exists in your imagination

Warning: this is gonna be petty as all hell, but I'm going to have to say Sparity for one big reason--my first ex shipped it hard. He wrote Sparity fics and everything, and got fairly big in the fandom for doing so. Now, I was always a little uncomfy with Sparity due to the age gap, but was fine with it just being a cute little crush, but after we broke up, I suddenly found myself losing any love I might've had for it. I still think Spike and Rarity are very cute as friends, especially as Rarity grows to view Spike as an equal rather than just as her other friend's kid brother, but fan content of them anything other than that is an instant turn-off for me.

On a much shorter note, I've also never liked Spike and Sweetie Belle together (even when I did tolerate Sparity) for a much different, yet similar reason. Sweetie Belle is her own filly and deserves to be evaluated on her own merits, and I feel like that would be just about impossible when your BF spent a good chunk of his childhood crushing on your older sister. Obviously, Spike wouldn't mean to do that, but I feel like it'd be almost impossible to not have these types of insecurities in a situation like this, because intrusive thoughts are assholes. Plus it just reminds me of that whole thing in Great Expectations when the losing childhood friend in the love triangle gets together with the dude's brother-in-law, and as an English major, I'd really prefer not to remember that Charles Fucking Dickens wrote that kind of end-of-romance-novel plot twist crap.

in short my headcanon is that spike is a short king, a bisexual king, and that's he's in love with a...well, you get the idea

10) Most disliked arc? Why?

The OG Crystal Empire arc, hands down. While the Pony of Shadows arc also disappointed me a bit for similar reasons as I'm about to go into here, it saved itself from this fate by at least having some pieces of interesting lore, mostly with regards to Stygian. The idea of the one normal guy in a group of legendary magical people turning to dark magic to catch up to their level and having that backfire on him is heartbreaking to me, so I'm able to forgive the rest of the arc's shortcomings as a result.

However, the Crystal Empire arc...didn't really have that much lore going for it. While the show progressed a bit towards it later on, I found myself really not caring about Twilight's test during the two-parter compared to all the lore the episode could have had.

The Crystal Empire itself is a really fascinating concept--imagine a land made entirely of crystal, where even the beings themselves are made of crystal, ruled over by a dark, shadowy king with Sauron vibes. Sounds cool, right? Let's not focus on that and instead focus on the Mane Six setting up a festival! How does Cadence tie into this empire's history? Let's literally never explain that outside of expanded universe stories fans have to go out of their way to read! And nerf Shining Armor again for his second two-parter in a row! All while airing copious amounts of Gak commercials! (God, does anyone still remember that meme?)

And speaking of remembering stuff, does anyone remember that cool-ass thing Legend of Korra did where it cut to the first Avatar for a couple of episodes, allowing us to learn about the ancient stuff in the ancient world before going back and showing the implications it had on the modern world? If the Crystal Empire arc had been like that, if we'd gotten to see how the Empire worked before Twilight's test, the story we got in the S3 premiere would have been so much better as a result. And who knows, maybe that's the direction things could've gone if S3 hadn't been a lower-budget half-season due to Equestria Girls. I like to think there's a universe somewhere where we somehow got Equestria Girls, a full Crystal Empire arc, and at least 3 more Babs-focused episodes in S3, but them's the breaks. Blame Lightning Dust for glitching out and attempting to destroy the VR used to create the AI ponies, causing the programmers/writers to run out of budget for the rest of S3 (yes, this is an actual fanfic plot I wrote).

I never really realized how much of an issue I had with this arc until I sat down to put it into words and now...yeah, taken as its own story without later seasons in mind, it doesn't really have many redeeming qualities to me. At least The Success Song helps pump me up before tests, though!

[shurisneakers]

harmless (v)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, ghosts, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, rats

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: why did i like this chapter sm someone explain. anyway!! y’all are so passionate about these two i love it mwah

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He dislikes the subway. 

Other than his other valid reason to have disdain for trains, the subway is dark, it’s shady and he’s sure he’s seen rodents fight to the death here on several occasions.  

Still, he’s following you down the stairs of the station, watching as you whistle along to the song blasting through your headphones. There’s a backpack swung over your shoulders, hands stuffed into the pocket of your hoodie and converse doing a skip every now and then. There’s a bandana that’s tied across your face, acting as a mask to hide your identity. 

He realises that you’re dressed like a commuter. Were you going to dress the part every single time?

You walk along with the crowd. He follows, a few feet away.

Until you stop. He abruptly stops too, leading someone to walk right into him. 

“Watch it, dumbass,” they hiss with the courage of someone who has no idea who he is. He ignores them. 

He looks on as you dig around your backpack and pull out a roll of paper. A poster, he realises soon when you peel off a layer from the back and press it to the wall. 

Was it legal to put up posters in the subway? He wasn’t quite sure. 

He observes as you turn around and continue down the path. He waits a few seconds before trailing up to the poster.

Volunteers needed!

If you’re interested in being turned into a ghost for a couple of hours, this is your chance! Should be okay with being on camera so that we can make money off of taped paranormal sightings.

Paid opportunity. You get to pick your outfit. Randos don’t apply.

He yanks the poster of the wall before continuing down the same place you did.

He finds another poster along the way. He doesn’t hesitate in pulling it down. You were advocating to kill people. 

He knows he’s going in the right direction because more posters creep up along the wall.

The both of you are on the platform by now but to him, something changes about the placement of the posters. They were growing in frequency, the distance between them decreasing as they were situated close to each other.

He pauses in front of the next one, hand hovering over the paper.

All it reads is ‘STOP’.

He furrows his eyebrow, pulling it down before peering over at the next one.

‘TAKING’, is all that it says.

It doesn’t take him very long to make his way through all the posters in the hallway. 

‘THESE’

‘DOWN’

The train’s arrived by now but a quick scan over the crowd and he knows that you haven’t entered. That, and he knew that you were too dramatic to leave without a trace or a small conversation with him. 

‘DICKHEAD’

Tasteful, he thinks. 

“It took effort to make them, stop ruining it,” you whine from the end of the hallway. It’s empty, given that rush hour was over a while ago. 

Even though the mask covers half your face, it’s obvious that there is mischief etched under it. The twinkle in your eye is telling. 

“You’re literally killing people.” He holds up the poster. Not the ‘dickhead’ one. He pockets that for later. 

He knows there are a few minutes before the next train arrives and more people flood the station. The eccentricity of today lay in the lighting from the incandescent lamps and acoustics of the platform. It made his voice echo like a movie scene. 

“I very much am not,” you huff. 

“You’re turning them into ghosts. That’s what a murderer does,” he says pointedly. 

“Well, only if you keep saying it like that. You’re making me look bad.” You cross your arms across your chest. “What are you, Fox News?” 

A scurry next to him earns his attention. Two rats nibble at a piece of fallen food. He wonders when they’ll starting brawling. 

“Explain this.” He waves the poster around. He isn’t taking it too lightly he hopes. If it’s actual murder then it’s going to be an issue. 

You pull out a black cylinder, slightly bigger than a pen. He can’t really see any more details, but you hold onto it like a wand. 

“I’m turning them into ghosts. I’ll post videos of them doing stupid shit. I get famous and then boom, cash money.” You rub your index finger and thumb together. “I’ll give you a share if you volunteer.”

“You’re not explaining the death part.” 

He can feel it. You’re about to start derailing. 

“Winter Soldier, the ghost story. Literally.” You grin, yanking down the mask from your face to prove it. It pools around your neck. “That’s so funny, c’mon, it’d be amazing.”

It’s been years since he’s heard that. Never in this context. 

“No,” he says sternly, “and I’m going to have to bring you in if you’re going to kill people.”

The rats were ignoring everything that was going down like the hardened criminals that they were. They had probably seen worse. He can’t stop paying attention to them.

“I’m not killing them, bro.” You raise your hands in exclamation. “I’m just moving some molecules around, some frequency shit. They’re alive, just ghosts.”  

He’s always been one for science. Straight As throughout high school, attended science conventions as a hobby, alive even at 100 through some mad experimentation, definitely seen some weird shit during his lifetime. 

But this doesn’t make sense.

“No,” he repeats. “Give me the thing.”

“Fine, I’ll show you.” You roll your eyes. “Since you have absolutely no faith in me.”

He does a quick review of his surroundings. 

No one’s around, which is good. 

But that just leaves him in front of you, which is bad.

“Don’t you even thin-” he starts, muscles tensing as he shifts into a defensive stance.

You whip out the little pen thing from beside you but before he can react you turn around and duck. 

The click of a button releases a bright light, small but intensely stronger than the fluorescents in the station.

He reels back, feet carrying him away from where you’re crouched. His eyes quickly look down at his body. 

Nothing’s changed. 

He lifts his hand to check, runs it over his face. Still alive. He thinks.

“Behold,” you declare, “Ghost rat.”

He looks to where you’re pointing. The two rats from earlier were still nibbling on their food but something was off about them. 

He could see the faint outline of the tiles on the wall behind them, almost like they were... translucent.  

You aimed at the rats, not him. He doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or annoyed at the fake threat.

He watches as they move. They don’t look hurt or injured.

“Cool, huh?” you say smugly. 

He can’t stop staring at them. 

“Bring them back.”

“They’re fine, look how abstract it is.”

“Bring back the rats.” He can’t believe this is what his life has come to.

Bucky Barnes, Rodent Protector.

You aren’t fazed by his indifference, instead wonder filled eyes gaze at the animals. “Astral mice, sarge. Embrace the miracle of modern science.”

“You killed them.”

“They’re alive, they’re just ghosts.” You raise a finger to point. “Look, they’re still eating. Biological functions are still taking place.” 

 Which was true. But still. He doesn’t know what is going on.

“Bring them back to... non-ghost alive.” 

“You sure you don’t want one? That one kinda looks like you.” One hardened glare after you realise the answer. “Jeez, alright then.”

You dig through your bag before pulling out a matte black replica of your current invention. 

“Sexy colours, right?” You hold them up. “I modelled them after your arm.”

He looks down. Sure enough the gold and black matched his cybernetic limb. It was oddly flattering. 

“Say thank you, Y/N, for letting me be your muse-”

“Un-ghost the rats.” 

“Ungrateful,” you narrow your eyes at him. 

Still, you comply with his demands, ducking down to their level again.

A click of the button, a bright light and the rats are back to normal. Non-transparent normal.

“Okay, give me that.” He takes a step towards you. 

“Nuh uh.” You pull your arm back. His mouth twitches at your response; what are you, five?

The black one is stuffed back into your bag but you wave around the gold like a threat. 

He sighs, making a pass for it. In a second his arm is twisted and shoved against his back, forcing him to spin so that he’s facing away from you. His eyes widen.

What the fuck?

“Now we’re having a good time,” you whisper into this ear. 

He swiftly turns around, grabbing your wrist to rotate his own out of your grip. 

“Since when can you fight?” he asks.

“Are we getting to know each other now?” You raise your leg to give him a semi gentle kick in the side, using his momentary distraction in blocking it to give him a knock on the head with your free hand. “This is so romantic, sarge.”

There’s a low rumble in the distance and he knows the train would soon start pulling into the station. It was still a distance away, but his heightened senses warned him that it wouldn’t take much time. 

He groans. How much longer would he have to go at this?

He could easily win this fight and he knew it. But something in him itched, pulled him back from doing it.

He blocks another attempt at his head. “Stop that.”

You grin. “You know what’d be fun?”

He knows you’d reply even if he didn’t encourage it. The lights from the train light up the tunnel around the corner. 

“This.” You don’t give him a second to recover before you flick your wrist away from him.

The device flies out of your hand and right onto the track. The both of you watch, you in glee, he in horror, as the train runs right over it, unleashing the brightest light he had ever seen. His eyes shut instinctively before it blinds him.

He forces himself to pry open his eyelids, look at the damage caused. 

The train, sure enough, is translucent. He can see the posters on the other side of the platform through the carriage, through various people holding onto the poles for support or seated on the seats.

“Ghost train!” you cheer. He’s mortified.

“Fuck no,” he mumbles, yanking the backpack off your shoulder. He rummages through it, looking for the gold version.

“You lookin’ for this?” you ask nonchalantly, holding it up in your hand like it isn’t the solution to stopping a bunch of ghosts from wandering around New York. 

“Turn them back.” He gives you a chance. 

“Do it yourself, coward.” You grin, holding it above your head. The train is going to stop and he needs everyone to be alive and non-ghost before they leave.

He doesn’t wait this time, instead turning to you. The thing is still held in your grip above your head. He rolls his eyes, doing a quick assessment before grabbing your free hand, tugging you closer and plucking the device out of your hand before you have the opportunity to retract it.  

“Great, now figure out which button to press.” You’re dangerously close to him. He can feel your hoodie brush against his tactical jacket. “Also if you wanted to be all pressed up against me, you could have just asked.” 

He furrows his eyebrows, letting go of you as you give a loud laugh. He looks down at the device. It has several buttons, littering up and down the side. Each look the same. 

The train’s slowing down. 

“They’re both the same device; this version is not a magical solution to the other one. If you press the wrong button then both of us are going to be fucked.”

The last carriage is getting closer. 

“Say I win this round and I’ll fix it.” 

There’s a gleam in your eye. He knew this was exactly what you wanted. 

He wishes he was as stubborn as Steve, just run through each button until the right one worked.

“You win this one.” He hands it back. He wasn’t like Steve and judging by the number of items the idiot jumped out of planes without a parachute on a daily basis, Bucky was glad about it. At least Bucky did it sporadically.

“Yay, two each for the both of us, then,” you say, taking it from him and twisting, eyes running down the sides. “Close your eyes, old man, or else your cataract’s gonna get worse.”

Right as the train pulls to a stop, you press down on the button before throwing it and the blinding light that emanates from it. It lands on the top of the train right as the doors open. 

The passengers start stepping out. Some of them are looking at their hands and legs in a little disbelief, most just push through the crowd to leave.

He can’t see through them. It’s a good sign. 

He turns to look at you but you’re not there. Instead, the weight of the small device weighs down in his pocket.

The sound of a thud on glass draws his attention. 

He looks up at the train. The window of the carriage in front of him has a bit of fog on it. You trace a heart in the condensation and blow him a kiss before pulling your mask back on.

The train starts moving, leaving him alone in the platform again with your invention.

He lets out an exhale, wandering outside to grab a sandwich before waiting to catch the next train to go home. 

Later in the evening, he catches hold of a bit of tape and the ‘Dickhead’ poster finds a place on Sam’s door. 

He doesn’t appreciate it.

So now it’s tucked away in the shelf of Bucky’s bedside table along with a freeze ray, a ghost-inator, and some discount Pym Particles. 

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