#and you know what is not conducive to either of those things?

[arrowpunk]

I have gotta actually work on developing a more simple and stylized art style too

[revasserium]

octavinelle #1 - cheek kisses

azul.

the first time you do it, it’s all he can do not to dissolve into a puddle of ink and heat and steam; though he makes a gallant show of trying to write it off, clearing his throat, taking a too-deep breath even as he fights the color he knows is rising in his cheeks. “ah — and… pray tell, what was that for?” he asks, pushing up on the bridge of his glasses, looking anywhere but at you though he knows you’re smiling, knows that if he were to turn, he’d be caught like a fish on a hook, by the steely, nearly wicked, look in your eyes as you cocked your head at him and smiled some more. “hm… you’re a smart guy,” you say, leaning back onto the lounge chair with a pleased sort sigh, “why don’t you figure it out?” and then, you make to stand up, but azul is nothing if not quick — and in an instant, he’s pulling you back down, a pout on his lips — childish and incongruous as he stares down at you. he huffs, almost petulant, and it’s it’s this more than anything that makes you laugh, makes your own cheeks tint with color. “don’t laugh at me…” he says, his voice lower now, pulling you close, and then close, “and don’t tease me either… it’ll make me sad…” you shiver at the texture of his voice, the lilt and dip of his words as his glasses flash in the dim light of the mostro lounge. “i’m not teasing — i’m just —” but your breath hitches at the way azul narrows his eyes, at the weight of his fingers, still wrapped around your wrist. “then…” his lips curl into a knowing smirk and you know you’ve lost, “are you going to finish what you started? or… shall i do that for you, hm?”

jade.

the first time you do it, he blinks and turns towards you, his expression implacable and you wonder if you’ve just royally fucked yourself over. it isn’t until he smiles, a sweet, soft, gentle little thing that something inside you bursts and you realize, a moment later, that oh — those things are called hearts. “ahh… now this is a dilemma…” he sighs, propping one arm on top of another as he taps his cheek thoughtfully, looking down at you as you lick your lips, feeling suddenly painfully self-conscious. “w-what do you mean?” you ask, but jade only hums, casting his eyes up towards the ceiling of the empty classroom, “we’re still working on this panorama for our beloved mountain lovers club and —” he slates a glance at the clock on the wall, “it’s due this evening but…” his eyes flicker back towards you and you feel pinned to the spot by the way they flash, his one golden eye gleaming with something that others might mistake for malice but you know quite well is just a deep-seated interest, an insatiable curiosity. and right now, the entire weight and full intensity is directed at you — like a focused beam of sun as he hones in your lips with a widening grin. “h-how is that a dilemma? we have plenty of time to finish —” “ahh… but you see, you’ve gone and done something that makes me want to spend the rest of our time here doing things that won’t be conducive at all to the finishing of this panorama… so…” he cocks his head as he takes a step forward, easily caging you back against a row of empty desks, “what do you propose we do about that…?”

floyd.

the first time you do it, he merely turns with a lopsided grin and leans in to press his lips to your cheek as well, drawing out a squeak as your cheeks promptly go pink. he pulls back with a satisfied smile as you cover your mouth with both your hands, staring up at him but he only shrugs, “whaaaat? isn’t it good manners to a return a favor? or… something like that?” he lets his head fall to one side, watching you with those too-bright eyes of his, and you know that that’s not what he means but you swallow passed the lump in your throat and try to sound steady as you ask, “so, does that mean you’d give anyone a kiss if they kissed you first?” and at this, floyd lets out a sound that’s caught halfway between a sigh and a moan; it sends a cascade of shivers down your spine as he quirks a single eyebrow at you, his smirk going wider and wider and even wider still. “mm… i dunno… i never thought about it like that but…” he leans in, crowding into your space and it’s all you can do to hold yourself still, to let himself press in closer and closer, till there’s barely a breath’s distance between your lips and his. “i do know that if you kissed me again… i wouldn’t mind kissin’ you back — and maybe more than once. what’dya say, hm? wanna try it out?”

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Your writing is so genuine! And so brilliant. And I love that you’ve taken up writing for Kate! I hope you’ll do more! Perhaps like the fake marriage thing, but the reader asks Kate in a rush to be her fake girlfriend at this reunion she’s going to, and like the fake marriage fic, she’s kind of desperate? Because her old classmates thought she’d be nothing?

Thank you! I hope you like this one too!

“Shit.”

“Problem?”

You looked up from your phone, the email on the screen glaring up at you like an omen you hadn’t prepared for. With a look of concern, Kate was looking at you over the top of her computer. You’d paused on your way out when the notification had come up on your phone, juggling with your bag to not drop the phone. Now, you were frozen, looking at her, not wanting to admit to your boss what a loser you were.

“Kind of,” you said, “not really. It’s fine.”

“You don’t sound very sure about that,” she said.

“My school reunion is tonight and I forgot. I’ve been so focused on that project with the lasers that it slipped my mind,” you said, hoping that would end there.

“Do you have time to get there?” she asked.

“I do. Unless you need me to stay late,” you said, seeing a perfectly acceptable way to get out of it.

“No, no, you go have fun.”

She must have seen something in your face because she stood, approaching you with a raised eyebrow. You’d spent enough time with her over the years to know she was seeing more than you wanted her to. Sometimes being friends with your boss had its downsides.

“Unless you don’t want to go,” she said.

“It’s not that,” you said, “it’s just always a bit awkward to go to these things alone. And I can’t talk about my job because.” You gestured at the whole building as the concept of confidentiality, “so it’s not exactly conducive to these sorts of things.”

“But you want to go?” she asked.

You didn’t want to outright lie to her. Which might explain why the most insane thing came out of your mouth next.

“I don’t suppose you want to come with me, do you? Just pretend to be my girlfriend for the night?”

You immediately felt your skin heat and you shook your head. Embarrassment was a heavy drug and you felt the need to just turn around and walk away rather than deal with the consequences of your request. Running away was always an option. 

“Never mind, that’s stupid. Ignore me,” you said, immediately trying to move past the moment. 

“I’m confused why you want me to go with you,” she said, “unless it’s just the fact I’m the only one here.”

You squeezed your eyes closed, not wanting to face her. Your heart was fluttering in your chest and your stomach was roiling with panic. It had all gone wrong so quickly, and you hadn’t even shown up to the reunion yet. 

“Because if I could pull a woman like you then I would have proved them all wrong,” you answered. 

You hadn’t wanted to tell her exactly how the other students had thought of you in school. The absolute derision you’d faced on a daily basis. The way the opinion of your classmates had sunk into you until you’d begun to believe it. 

“Wrong about what?” she asked.

“Let’s just say that the other students didn’t think much of me,” you replied, not willing to go into all the nuances of your time at school.

She considered you a moment, those dark eyes sweeping over your body before settling on your face once again. You shivered, not wanting to admit what it did to your already turbulent heart. 

“Alright then, but we’ll have to stop by the wardrobe department on the way out,” she said.

“What?” You couldn’t quite let yourself believe what she was saying.

“I’ll go with you but I think we could both use an outfit change. No one will be impressed by either of us dressed like this,” she said. 

You trailed her into the lift, still not quite able to believe what was happening. Kate was going as your date to your school reunion. The woman you had spent too much time fantasising about to be professional was going to pretend to be your girlfriend for the night just to get back at your classmates for being mean to you when you were a teenager. 

Pushing into the wardrobe department, set up after one too many undercover operations had ended in disaster due to bad shoes, Kate turned to look over you again. She strode off, expecting you to follow. You did, unable to do anything else.

She handed you a dress from a rack, eyes sweeping over you again. You took it, unsure what you should do. 

“Go on,” she prompted, hands gently nudging you towards one of the changing rooms at the back of the room. 

You did, slipping the silk over your body. Staring in the mirror, your eyes travelled over your body. The dress clung to your curves, highlighting you in a way you were unused to. Just the feeling of the material against your skin felt decadent, more expensive than your usual clothes. 

“Are you dressed?” she asked.

“I’m not sure about this,” you called to her. 

“Just let me look at you,” she said.

You stepped out of the tiny room, staring at your bare feet. You couldn’t meet her eyes, not needing to see the censure in her gaze. 

“I don’t know what you were talking about. It’s beautiful on you.”

You looked up, finding her focused solely on you. Your cheeks heated as you shifted your weight from foot to foot. Abruptly, she nodded, passing over a pair of heels to you. 

“You’ll do very nicely,” she said.

“Aren’t you-” 

Your words cut off as you looked at her properly. Gone were the navy slacks and the military inspired blazer. In their place was black trousers, black jacket, a white button up that was unbuttoned daringly low. Cleary you’d spent more time staring in the mirror in disbelief than you’d thought. And clearly she was trying to kill you. 

“Come on, you can return the clothes on Monday,” she said.

She grasped you around the elbow, offering you stability as you balanced while putting on the heels. Your hand grasped her shoulder, her warmth seeping through the layers of her clothes. If you didn’t look at her, she couldn’t turn your brain to mush. But then her hand came up, unclipping your hair until it fell around your face. 

“Much better,” she said.

She was so close to you, those brown eyes softening as they traced over your features. Your breath left your chest and you were frozen under that gaze. Her fingertips brushed over the apple of your cheek before she stepped away. 

“You look lovely. Now shall we get out of here?” 

“Okay,” you said, trying to ignore the swoop in your stomach. 

Her hand on your lower back led you away, to her car, opening the door for you like a proper gentleman. You slid into the dark interior, doing your best to settle your heart. It had been a stupid idea to ask her to do this for you, a moment of desperation asking for a fantasy you’d never allowed yourself to voice. 

Tonight was going to destroy you in one way or another. 

Sitting in the darkened cab of her car, the air felt too close, the walls pressing in. You were trying not to look at her, staring out the window, but you were so aware of her. In your peripheral vision, you could see her toss her blonde hair out of her eyes, not wanting to stare at her. It would be so easy when she looked that good. 

She parked the car before you had the chance to come to terms with the situation you’d found yourself in. You stared out the windshield. The silence stretched. 

“We could always turn around and get dinner somewhere instead,” she said.

“What?” You turned to look at her.

“You don’t have to go in there,” she said, “nothing is stopping you from leaving now.”

“It’s not that simple,” you said.

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because,” you said, knowing you had to say it so she could understand, even if you hadn’t ever wanted her to know this about you, “I need to prove them wrong.”

Her hand reached out, resting against yours clasped in your lap, fingers twisting together almost painfully. You let them relax under her touch, trying not to do any damage before you’d even got started. 

“I know I shouldn’t care about what a bunch of pricks said when we were teenagers but I can’t let it go. They made my life hell and I want to show them they were all wrong. That I’m something now. That my life is worth something,” you said, your words spilling out your shame into the silence for her to consume. 

“Of course your life is worth something. Anyone who made you feel otherwise is so very wrong,” she said, sounding fierce enough to have you flushing.

“You have to say that. You’re my fake girlfriend,” you said.

She smiled at your weak joke, her pity unwelcome when you were trying to lighten the mood. Her hand squeezed yours, leaving you feeling like you should have kept your mouth shut. 

“Just forget I said anything,” you said, tugging your hands out from under hers. 

“No. Hang on.” Her fingers curled around your arm, keeping you from pulling completely away, “what just happened here?” 

“Nothing. Sorry. I’m all over the place tonight,” you said.

She considered you for a moment. You couldn’t look her in the eye, just needing the night to be over. Then you could slink away and curl up in bed and wallow until your self pity turned you into a disgusting heap of viscera. 

“Come on, let’s go show everyone what an amazing person you’ve grown up to be,” she said.

You slid out of the car, the cool night air enveloping you. Her palm slid along yours, fingers tangling with yours as she fell into step beside you. It was so warm and steady, and yet just that touch was making your knees feel like jelly. 

You had to get a grip on yourself. 

The hall was lit like a dimly lit wine bar, the kind of trendy place you’d never found yourself in. Although, you could easily imagine Kate there, sharing a drink with someone, leaning into them in the intimate atmosphere. You stopped imagining that scenario pretty quickly. 

“Wine?” she asked.

“What?” There was no way she could read your mind, was there?

“There appears to be an open bar,” she said, “red?”

“Well, if there’s an open bar, I might have something a bit stronger,” you said. 

You ignored the people around you, making a beeline for the bar, your hand still firmly in Kate’s. You passed Kate a glass of wine, fingers brushing together. Without thinking about it, you took a drink from your double whiskey, the burn of alcohol going through you. 

“Right, is there anyone you were hoping to talk to?” she asked, turning to look at the room.

You’d mostly ignored everyone in the room as you’d hightailed it to the bar. Turning now, you wished you still could. Just the thought of approaching someone made you want to throw up. 

“Let’s do a lap,” you said.

Her fingers tightened around yours, surprisingly making your heart calm a little. You looked up at her, finding her eyes so kind when they gazed down at you. You found yourself leaning into her, her warmth giving you comfort as you took a turn about the room. 

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’ll let you know once I have an answer,” you replied.

Her smile was soft and for the first time you didn’t feel silly for your anxiety. You let out a long breath, turning back to look at the faces around the room. They were familiar, if different. Time had changed everyone, and yet it was like being a teenager again, going to assembly, surrounded by your peers. 

“No way.”

You cringed at the voice, loud and jarring in the space. Turning, you almost flinched back at the blonde woman looking at you, a grin on her face. Perfectly curled hair, makeup that had definitely been applied by a knowledgeable hand, clothes that cost more than your entire wardrobe put together, you knew exactly who was looking at you. 

Elizabeth Hartmore had made your life a living hell. 

Your name sounded venomous on her tongue, the delight she took activating your flight or fight response. Kate’s hand squeezed yours but you had no words for her. You regretted ever coming.

“Diane and I had a bet going about whether you’d show up. She thought you’d never show your face here but I know you better than that,” she said, those knowing eyes practically seeing inside your soul, finding every weakness you had, “looking for a handout? Or are you hoping to use one of us to give you a leg up after failing on your own?” 

“I haven’t,” you tried to say before the words died on your lips. So much for proving them wrong. You couldn’t even get a sentence out.

“What was that?” Diane asked.

“She’s hardly a failure,” Kate said, helping where you couldn’t, “if anything, she’s rather successful.”

“And you are?” Elizabeth asked.

“Kate Stewart, Commander in Chief of the Unified Intelligence Taskforce,” she replied, “and the very lucky woman who gets to call this one mine.” 

She untangled her fingers from yours, holding her hand out to Elizabeth to shake. She did so, her eyes sweeping over Kate, presumably taking in her entire being, the easy confidence which she inhabited her own skin. Kate slipped an arm around your waist rather than return to holding your hand, warm and heavy and so present. Her hand rested on the swell of your hip, almost proprietary. Your heart tripped over itself. Having her so close was doing all kinds of funny things to you. 

This had been such a bad idea.

“I’ve never heard of the Unified Intelligence Taskforce,” Elizabeth said.

“No, I don’t suppose you would have,” she replied.

You had to bite down on your lower lip to keep from smiling. The absolute disdain Kate had managed to infuse in those seven words was a thing of beauty. Her arm tightened around you until you were nestled against her. 

“I hope you know she’s just trying to ride your coattails,” Elizabeth said when she had no other comeback. 

“She stands rather well on her own two feet,” Kate said, still so calm.

Her lips brushed your temple and you startled, not having expected it. Her chuckle was warm, fond, familiar from late nights and shared car rides. 

“Don’t you, darling?” she asked, looking down at you, warm brown eyes sparkling as her lips pulled up into a smile.

“I do alright,” you replied, finding yourself breathless.

“They’d be lost without you,” she said and you knew she was putting how she felt as your boss into words. Your cheeks heated, the praise doing something funny to your stomach. Her lips tipped up into a smirk and you cursed her for being too good at this.

“Kate,” you said, not really sure where you were going with it.

“I’d be lost without you,” she said, her voice low enough to make the conversation feel intimate. It was like she’d forgotten the other two were even listening, but surely she couldn’t have. The whole point of her being there was to prove them wrong about you. It had to be fake. 

But the way she was looking at you felt all too real.

“What do you even do?” Elizabeth asked, breaking the moment. 

“I’m a scientist,” you said, barely thinking of the words, still caught in the way Kate was looking at you. Like you were something precious. Something to be coveted, “a physicist.” 

She scoffed. 

“A rather bloody good one, too,” Kate said.

Your lips curled up into a smile. Her hand squeezed your hip and a shiver went through your body. You watched as her gaze dipped down to your smile, lingering longer than was necessary before making its way back up to your eyes. Your breath caught and you felt her go still, her body pressed against yours from how tight her arm was around you. 

In that moment it stopped mattering if she was pretending to be your girlfriend. It stopped mattering that this was all meant to be making a point. It stopped mattering what those girls thought about you.

You knew who you were and those girls didn’t matter to you at all. But Kate did. Kate mattered a whole lot.

“Come on,” you said, “let’s go.”

She quirked an eyebrow at you, but didn’t argue. You placed your glass down on the closest surface after draining it, sliding your hand back into hers, and leading her back out the door you’d come in. Twenty minutes in there had been enough. You had your answers, and they were that it didn’t matter anymore. You were happy, and you loved your life, and it didn’t matter what a couple of sad women thought about you. 

Besides, Kate thought highly enough of you for all the rest of them not to matter.

“That was rather quick,” she said as you stepped out into the cool night air.

“How about that dinner now?” you asked.

She stopped, forcing you to follow suit lest your hand pull out of hers. The warmth of it was the only thing tethering you right now and you liked the feel of it in yours. The way she was looking at you was full of confusion.

“What has gotten into you?” she asked.

“You were right. I don’t have to be in there and defend my existence to those people. They don’t matter to me, so why should their opinions? I’d rather go have dinner with a beautiful woman who likes my company and cares about me enough to go through this charade,” you answered. 

“You think I’m beautiful?” In the dark, you couldn’t be sure but you thought you saw a flush on her cheeks.

“Of course,” you said, “you’re one of the most beautiful people I know.”

Sometimes stating the truth was more simple than avoiding it. And in that moment you felt fearless. Your earlier epiphany was still buzzing in your veins and you felt invincible. 

“That’s rather flattering,” she said.

“Some facts are fundamental truths of the universe. That’s one of them,” you said.

“Bloody hell,” she laughed, “what are you doing to me?” 

“Sorry, I thought I was being clear. I’m asking you on a date,” you said, “for tonight, somewhere nicer than my school reunion.”

She blinked, as if you’d said something completely out of turn. You tugged her closer, your hand still connected to hers. She went easily, approaching you even as she seemed to not understand what you were saying.

“Kate, I think you’re wonderful. If you don’t want to go on a date with me, that’s fine. But cards on the table, I like you. Quite a lot in fact. And maybe I’m ruining our friendship, but all night I’ve been going out of mind because it turns out I quite like being your fake girlfriend,” you said.

“You do?” she asked, voice faint as if you were overwhelming her with information.

“I like you touching me. I like people thinking I’m yours. I want to be yours,” you said.

“Oh fuck it.”

With her hand in yours she pulled you to her. Her free hand curled around the back of your neck and then she was kissing you with a desperation that had you breathless. You melted against her, submitting. Her teeth nipped at your lower lip, tongue soothing over it before you opened to her, tasting wine and something that was specific to her. You moaned, your hand sliding around her waist, pressing closer. Her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging until you were nothing but a puddle of desire. 

Someone in the distance wolf whistled and you were sharply reminded that you were in the parking lot of your old high school, snogging like a teenager with your boss. You drew away, not far from her, still sharing air as you tried to catch your breath. Her eyes were molten, gazing on you, the flush obvious on her cheeks from so close.

She’d managed to kiss the words away from you. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, uncertainty filling your chest as the silence dragged on. Her eyes slipped down, focusing on your mouth, eyes darkening as the moment stretched. 

“Kate?” you whispered.

“Yes, darling?” she asked, voice deep, almost raspy.

“Is that a yes to dinner?” you asked.

“It’s a yes to all of it,” she said, “it’s a yes to you.”

Your lips brushed hers in another kiss, softer, sweeter, lingering when you knew she wasn’t going to push you away any second. Her warm hand cupped your cheek, holding you close, gentle with you. You let out a long breath once you pulled back, almost a sigh, eyes fluttering open.

“I’m yours,” you whispered.

“Then shall we get out of here?” she asked.

“Please,” you said.

And take you out of there, she did. 

[ebisul]

Sterile Mandalore and my issues with the New Mandalore we see

I want to preface this by saying a lot of what’s wrong with Mandalore and the Mandalorians is fully Filoni’s fault (among a variety of other people involved) for being a bad storyteller. Also between brain fog, ADHD, and a severe anxiety disorder, I’m brute forcing my way to coherency.

This is in no way a defense of Death Watch or the history of imperialism. I won’t tolerate anyone comparing me to a terrorist organization for not liking the depiction of Mandalore under New Mandalorian rule or any particular Mandalorian Character, yes that has happened before.

As an overview, I will be going over the setting of Mandalore we see visually, a few of the characters and what those characters say about Mandalorian culture visually, as well as briefly touching on the Clones, and finally how each of these contribute to the Mandalore we see in The Clone Wars.

Now I wanted to write this because I actually deeply enjoy the Mandalorians as a culture, I think everything from the language to the armor to the Resol’nare, uncertain if thats canon, is absolutely fascinating. However, what we see in The Clone Wars has next to none of that outside of Death Watch, the terrorist organization.

The Setting of Mandalore

Mandalore the planet is primarily composed of harsh, seemingly uninhabitable deserts created from centuries upon centuries of war. What we do see of the civilization on Mandalore is primarily within the domed capital city of Sundari. Now there are a few things I wanna touch on here, primarily certain locations, such as the schools, the palace, and the overall visuals of the city, and the people, as a whole as well as individuals.

Beginning with the Schools,

We see schools on Mandalore at least twice in TCW, once during the poisonings when we see a cafeteria and once during our stint with Korkie where we see classrooms and dorms, and i have always hated the way they look. I will say that you could very well interpret the Royal Academy of Government to be a sort of military school, though given the New Mandalorians are all about peace and pacifism it would be an odd choice to send your nephew there.

Visually speaking, the schools are beyond dull. In the classroom we see Ahsoka teaching in, the entire room is gray, with nothing but the desks and a projector. Look at the kid in the front row! Thats how I feel looking at this room!! These are presumably either teenagers or young adults at a boarding school. Im not expecting much for a classroom but a dull dark gray, empty room is not conducive to learning.

I also want to note that they wear uniforms. Its totally normal for a boarding school to require uniforms, that makes sense, however, these uniforms have one singular interesting component and thats the iron heart. I can’t find an exact meaning behind the symbol outside of reddit so im hesitant to define it here, however what we do know is that the symbol is absolutely ancient. A significant part of Mandalorian history.

The rest of the uniform is similarly a dull cool gray, or perhaps a dull blue. And there doesn’t seem to be much individuality in the uniforms, that is outside of hair and whatever gambit-style headwear those kids are wearing at least, but even then they’re mostly all very similar hairstyles.

Im also electing to ignore that there are seemingly two separate sets of triplets here. I know it’s an animation shortcut. Still, they are still there and I can’t ignore them now.

Now, on to what I’m presuming is either a dorm or some sort of recreation or break room, I don’t remember much of the context and frankly you can’t tell from looks alone. I’m leaning toward a dorm because that was my first interpretation.

Regardless of what this room serves as, be it dorm or break room, its still void of character. If this were a dorm, we would have no indication of whose it could possibly be.

It looks like the light behind Korkie is a map of some sort, or something similar its unclear, but that and the neon lights above Soniee are the only sources of color. The red and blue can mean a lot of things but I genuinely don’t think there is a major purpose behind it. We already saw the two sets of triplets.

However, lighting is meant to mean something. In particular, red can mean many things, but given the visual context it reads as stress inducing, as danger. Particularly surrounding Korkie as it does.

Now blue lighting needed a quick google search, but my results for the meaning of blue lighting where a little unexpected. Blue is a typical calming color, similar to green, though can also be interpreted as depressing and cold like grays, and blue lighting can be representative of isolation and passivity. Ironically, this scene is anything but passive. Again, im not putting much weight into it but I feel its worth noting.

Ultimately, its entirely impersonal, slightly stress-inducing, and only marginally better than the classroom only because it had color. Now onto my most egregious example from the schools we see and my most despised, the cafeteria.

Do you see this shit? Where do i even start? My best guess is that these are approximately middle schoolers. If i went to this school I would willingly drink the poison. Their lunch looks like three tomatoes, three mystery cubes, and debatably either a cracker or a slice of cheese. Horrendous lunch. How is this acceptable to feed to children for a whole meal? Enough complaining about their lunches, though.

The cafeteria itself is offputting to say the least. Pure white. The children, pale and blonde, all wearing the exact same gray uniforms with only variation for the girls, because girl = skirts. It’s the picture of uniformity. Its horrific. The only color outside of the pitiful lunch is the monstrous poison drink nearly all children have. Probably bc theyre lunches are terrible.

This scene has two interpretations in my mind. The first is that its meant to be creepy as all hell, which is unlikely because we’re supposed to support New Mandalore. The second interpretation is that it was meant to look like the epitome of peace and serenity and utterly fails because it takes more than an overuse of the color white to represent innocence, purity, and peace.

How do you manage to make an entire school look like a cloning facility? In fact, I’m certain the cloning facility has more diversity than all of mandalore.

Now the issue with all of these areas of the schools on Mandalore is that they look like no place to teach a child. There are certain things that are conducive to learning and color is one of them! So is fostering individuality! There are specific things that make an environment suitable for learning and these schools have very few of them.

Now onto the Palace,

This will be a shorter segment than the previous. Although I will be lightly critical of Satine here. So to begin, we primarily see the throne room. In fact, im not even sure we see much else in the Palace of Sundari. We do see Satine’s rooms or office but I can’t find a picture of it so i won’t use the example.

Both of these images share a few things in common. First is the dramatic lighting, the otherwise empty throne room save for the chairs that seem to have been brought in, and the only color present outside of gray is Satine and/or her throne. Even Padme, notable fashion icon, is or appears to be wearing gray in these scenes.

The dramatic lighting in the first image is an obvious “Hey! These are the good guys!” and I can’t piece out a relevent meaning behind the second image so Im choosing to move forward because I think it is just that, lighting.

Now the throne room being utterly void will be clearer in the next image I attach. The issue with it being so empty is that it feels almost lifeless, cold. It doesn’t feel like a throne room visually speaking. This ties into the last thing these images have in common. Satine and her throne.

Within the gray permeating what seems to be most of Mandalore at this rate, Satine is the only source of actual color. Her clothes are these vibrant, beautiful blues and greens and purples. Her throne is a glowing beacon above everyone.

What does that say, when every one of her people is dressed in grays, beiges, and pale blues? Or when they all dress the same?

This is a better view of just how empty the throne room is. Theres more of the iron heart design, though still no real idea of the meaning further than it is significant, as well as the portrait of Satine. The only things in this image with color other than gray or biege are indications of Satine. But the throne room itself is almost entirely barren.

Whether or not you think this is any indication of her character one way or another thats up to you. My read on what this shows of her is that she is blinded by her own ideals, she doesnt truly see her people as they are, be that through ignorance or arrogance, and that allows the corruption to seep.

I wanted to show the hospital because I think thats a Good environment design for mandalore but i lost the picture. It is ironic that my example of good design is the one thats meant to be clinical.

Therefore, I’m moving on to the city at large

The city itself is incredibly industrial. I’m torn because I know it has to be like that to a degree but it also doesnt have to be like that. That’s a choice the designers made. The city of Sundari exists within a dome due to the uninhabitable deserts from years of war, that doesnt mean it must look so cold.

It just feels so lifeless. Colorless even. Ive noticed by now, and you probably have too, that my main issue seems to be coloring. Well, I wouldn’t say its my main issue but it’s definitely up there.

We’re supposed to think that Satine’s New Mandalore is Good. That it’s this vision of peace and prosperity. But where do we see that visually? Through industrialization? Thats not good!

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that Satine’s peace is a clear facade for all of the shady bullshit going on behind her back, but we should be able to see that in the enviroment.

We should be able to see the idyllic peacefulness and people’s enjoyment of their city. We should see that face and the shady underside. We shouldn’t just see drab gray with a splash of corruption. It just makes Satine look like a bad ruler.

Characters and What They’re Telling Us

I’m actually not starting this with a particular character. I’m going to begin with the Mandalorian people as a whole.

What a surprise! Theyre all blond white people! See I have a huge issue with the lack of diversity among humans on Mandalore for a few reasons. The first reason is the obvious, it’s fucking WEIRD. The second reason is that we know there are people of color who are mandalorian.

And on the one hand this really demonstrates my point. Everyone looks the same, everything is dull and empty. This isn’t prosperity.

The first example they look like theyre dressed in uniform. Every single one of them is wearing the exact same color. Thats not normal. In the second image, while they aren’t dressed uniformly, they are all dressed in grays and beiges. These people are Satine’s governing council. They’re supposed to high standing officials.

And that brings us back to The Duchess herself

I’m choosing to use her main outfit design for this. There will be no more images from here onwards because there is no space but I’m trusting you all to know what these characters look like.

Satine’s Dress can only truly be described as opulent. She dresses in shades of blue, purple, and green and elaborate headwear and accessories. Her hair is styled in a way characteristic of Kalevala, similarly to Korkie’s friend Lagos but more extravagant. The colors she wears are chosen to appear soothing and to honor the history of Mandalore’s forests and lakes.

But this isn’t something you might pick up on naturally. Remember this is a show for children. You would have to do the research to learn that. Without that information you could interpret her appearance any number of ways.

Between her headress and the color scheme, I would have confidently said she was peacock-like, had I not known the nuances. Character design needs to be something people can infer from. Something that lines up with the environment to tell a story.

That being said what her design is meant to tell us is that she greatly values the less violent aspects of Mandalore’s past. That she is trying to preserve and honor their history and Mandalore’s beauty.

The issue is that (from memory at least) the honoring forests and lakes never really is relevant? We see Peace Park but we’re never shown much about any restoration or preservation efforts of the planet itself. Did they just give up because its a “wasteland”? Were there no other alternatives? We were never given enough context, explicitly or implicitly.

And without the knowledge of what her design is supposed to mean, what is stopping anyone from misinterpreting it. What is stopping anyone from thinking she is just this haughty, holier than thou politician? Especially when you put her next to civilians or even her own council when she is already sat above them on her throne?

Satine’s design is essentially meant to show us her value to peace and progression but we arent really shown much progressing. We’re meant to just believe what we’re told rather than showing us the progress in, yknow, progress.

Now, Bo Katan

I chose specifically to include the sisters in this because I wanted to compare them, also bc obviously they are the most relevant. Bo’s design also demonstrates her values, admittedly way clearer than Satine’s.

She’s a traditionalist, someone who values the warrior ways, and yes also a terrorist. Thats not super relevant. Because she’s a traditionalist, it makes sense that her character design is rather simple in comparison to her sister, but they both honor the history of Mandalore all the same.

Mandalorian armor is equally as historical and significant as the iron heart itself, even so far as to have the two intrinsically intertwined, having the Iron Heart as part of the armor. I think most Mandalorian fans know this already.

Now, I want to take the armor paint color meanings with a grain of salt. Im not certain how canon any of it actually is even if the meanings do seem to hold up withon canon. However, the thing about the armor paint is that it sets the mandalorians apart as individuals while simultaneously tying them together as Mandalorians.

Bo’s armor is painted primarily blue and gray with white detailing and owl imagery to signify her Nite-Owls. Now in the EU the colors have meaning. Blue and gray mean reliabilty and mourning respectively. I think it would be in the Mandalorian culture’s best interests to keep this canon and even expand upon this.

This is because these unique paint schemes allow for individuality, community, and notable artistic expression. I mean, just look at Sabine. This contrasts with the uniformity of New Mandalore which just makes New Mandalore look really bad. Like really, really bad.

Next I want to look at Almec

So, Almec has two designs I want to look at. First is his usual outfit as Satine’s right hand and the second is his own armor.

Pre-betrayal, Almec wears an almost solidly white outfit, with gray, beige, and a dash of gold detailing. This design actually has two iron heart designs, one in his clothes and one in his hair. Outside of the iron heart, the design is very plain. The overuse of white is likely meant to give an illusion of purity and peace again. It doesn’t really work when he looks so clinical, though.

In his armor, Almec’s design is a stark contrast to the previous. He wears a light green, maybe gray, flight suit with black and gold armor. The reason I wanted to include this design for a number of reasons but specifically, the shoulder cord.

The gold shoulder cord gives Almec a more militaristic appearance, even in comparison to other armored mandalorians. This is actually a design detail I really enjoy because the gold shoulder cord essentially means “service to another” in the US military.

The colors black and gold in mandalorian armor represent justice and vengeance. Again, take that with a grain of salt, but I think more importantly this change actually makes Almec a more recognizable character. The armor is more personal than his prior outfit working under Satine as a New Mandalorian. It tells us more about who he is as a person.

On to Jango

Yes he is Mandalorian. I will not debate this I dont give a shit what George Lucas intended with him. I don’t even care what was said in TCW. Jango was canonically a mandalorian foundling. And yes I know they never show up really in relation to Mandalore, but Its important I mention them, I think.

So, we know in TCW, Jango isn’t considered a mandalorian by the New Mandalorians. They insist that he must have stolen the armor, that there’s no conceivable way he could be mandalorian. Except that we now have canonical confirmation that he was in fact a foundling.

See, here’s the issue with this, because in retrospect they’re basically denying a dead man his own identity and creed.

Jangos armor isnt really what I wanted to talk about in relation to Jango himself. Mostly I wanted to talk about what his character means for the New Mandalorians. Jango amd Boba are quite literally The Blueprint for Mandalorians. Except now we get more Mandalorians and they fully deny Jango his Mando-ness.

What, because he doesn’t align with their ideology? Jango wasn’t a great person by any means but being Mandalorian isn’t just a nationality. It’s something you’re taught.

Again this isn’t about the armor, it’s about the fact that he’s played by a Maori man. The first Mandalorian face we see is a brown man and that gives a real bad impression when you have a planet of White People claiming he isn’t even Mandalorian, why? Because he’s adopted? Because he was a bounty hunter?

The Clones

This section isn’t totally relevant so feel free to skip to the next, but i can only go so long without talking about them.

The clones themselves don’t have a strong tie to Mandalore, narratively speaking. However, they do have ties built into their appearances. More than just being clones of Jango.

They don’t speak Mando’a in canon and we aren’t totally sure who exactly trained them before Jango died, but we do have little hints from their character designs that indicate some connection to Mandalore or the Mandalorian culture.

Rex specifically is one of the few with jaig eyes. Jaig eyes are a Mandalorian honor symbol. And he’s not the only clone with this symbol, Blackout also has Jaig eyes on his helmet. Which leads me to believe this symbol is fairly common for troopers since its not terribly common we see clones sharing symbols without a personal connection to eachother.

Further than just that, clone trooper armor, phase 1 at least and presumably onward, is also based on Mandalorian armor. This is primarily because of the armor jango wears, naturally his clones would be fitted with similar. But the clones have also picked up the armor painting. Could this simply be a coincidence? Sure if you wanna believe that. I don’t think I do though because its so significant to both cultures as a means of individuality.

What does all of this say about Mandalore?

And I mean that as what is this telling us visually. What conclusions can you draw from this with just images. Because it doesn’t look great for New Mandalore. And maybe that was the intent. I know my first impression of Satine was just how unprofessional she was acting.

Except we’re supposed to see New Mandalore as the good guys, essentially, right? Riddled with corruption but still Good. That doesn’t translate when the setting is dystopian-esque at best. Its cold and empty and clinical.

When you see an entire planet of people who all look almost exactly the same, wearing the same clothes, the same hair, the same face, the same color skin, it gets unsettling. Its a weird design choice because it’s an American cartoon and America is characteristically individualistic.

The Bad Guy, the literal terrorist organization, caters more towards that visual individuality than the peaceful, progressive Good Guys. It visually reads as a Safety vs Freedom story but thats not the story that they need to be telling. You can’t go telling people freedom is evil.

It makes it incredibly easy to misconstrue what New Mandalore is trying to do because the visuals aren’t supporting them. There’s a reason so many people genuinely think Satine has comitted some sort of cultural genocide against her people because we aren’t seeing any of the culture and when we do see it, its not supported by the narrative. They may have Mandalorian writing but they never speak Mando’a on screen outside of Death Watch. We dont really know what the iron heart means and its everywhere. They may talk about prosperity and progress but they aren’t showing us that.

What I Would Do To Improve

This is the last segment, I promise.

I want to start with what could improve the background. Because a lot of the issue stem from it being dull and lifeless, I think giving it some sort of life would really fix a lot of the issues. Namely, I would say to put more trees, real, lush trees not the tiny ones you’d find in a city. It would help give context to Satine’s homage to the forests of mandalore if we had a visual clue from Mandalore itself. This would also bring in some more color and take away from the industrial appearance. This is more of a personal thing because I grew up around farms, but I think we should have seen a farm or some sort of clue as to how Mandalore is feeding itself. How is it sustaining itself, if not for import?

Another thing I would change would be the overall coloring. Generally, I would push for more color but I’m mostly referring to the color of the buildings. I would replace the cold gray and blues with more of a bronze and maybe a warm orange or even just changed the undertone of the blue could add so much. I would also give the lighting more warmth. Overall I would just add more warmth.

Adding onto this, I would also bring in more color by adding more public art. More murals and statues and the like. We know they have murals and paintings in the Palace at least. We should see them in the city, too. Having more art around the city would also connect it to the same cultural roots that have the mandalorians painting their armor.

In the schools, the main issue is that there’s no color. That these spaces dont have anything that would bring a sense of comfort to a kid. The stark white of the cafeteria is more stress inducing than calming and it would be good to replace some of that with a splash of color to break it up, as well as with some background decorations. Slap a poster on them there walls.

The classroom we see could also use just more decoration, make it look like a classroom. Have posters of diagrams and models. The room is dark so I won’t say much of the coloring except just make it look less cold. The back of the room has a wide, empty space and I think if that space were filled with something it would change a lot of the energy it gives off.

As for the dorm, if that is a dorm, give is an idea of whose room it is. Make it look like someone lives there. If it’s not a dorm, why are these kids sitting in a dark room? The room itself shouldn’t exude this uncomfortable feeling, that should be the undertone.

Overall, I think the Palace is generally fine if only it werent so empty, and again, if there were more color. The detailing and the lighting both look nice but it just needs to feel more like a throne room.

As for the people of Mandalore, for fuck’s sake, diversity is not going to kill you. Again its insane that all of the mandalorians of color we see are either A.) terrorists B.) deemed not mandalorian or C.) future cultists. We should see more black, brown, and Asian mandalorians. Hell, we should see alien mandalorians too.

Furthermore, they should have more variety in their clothes. What society wears all of three colors when they definitely have access to others? On top of that we should see Mandalorians who still wear pieces of armor. Armor is defensive, it’s not inherently violent to protect yourself and it honors the history of Mandalore while still moving forward with progress.

This is of course just my personal vision. These visuals can be interpreted in a number of ways, if you want to think the designs are good and exhibit peacefulness more power to you, I simply can’t see it. I tried my best to keep it to the Clone Wars series with a strict focus on the appearance, though that was a difficult challenge for me.

Anyways, I hope this was somewhat coherent and enjoyable. I’ve likely missed some details but this took me multiple days to organize my thoughts properly so im not pressed about it. Let me know your thoughts! Just be kind and don’t call me a terrorist :)

[optiwashere]

Is there any part of baldur's gate 3 that you dislike? I know you enjoy the game, but most fans of the old games I see are very critical and you're one of the few that I've seen that seems to love it.

First of all, this is a very fun question, anon! Thanks 💜

Secondly, you're experiencing illusory correlation when you connect "previous BG fans" to "those that dislike BG3." It's further compounded by the fact that most people only get really loud when they're disappointed/upset, and the people that are happy tend not to post as virulently or constantly about said topic. Millions of people have played BG1/2 and then a good chunk of those folks went on to play BG3, so think about all the people you aren't seeing when you see a post like that.

Anyways, there are things I'm either bleh on, annoyed with, or dislike about BG3. I'm too old to expect perfection.

Some of the things I don't like:

Callbacks to BG1/2 like Sarevok and Viconia, though that is more WotC's fault than Larian's, and this goes double for Abdel Adrian being referenced at all in the game. Those books should have been memory holed.

The uneven nature of all the companions' stories. Some have tons of dialogue, reactivity, and the ability to let the player choose to give the companion the choice of how they handle things, with the player's own choices affecting the companion's decision. Others are in a semi-broken state (Minthara) or feel lacking despite being great characters (Wyll) that deserve those choices.

5E D&D is a bad system down to its bones. Its flaws are openly on display in the game; the only reason that the tactical gameplay feels any good is because Larian is very skilled at crafting memorable, enjoyable encounters and they hacked in a dozen different homebrews and house rules to make the damn thing feel any good. BTW, 2E AD&D was a mess for wildly different reasons and the old real-time w/ pause system is conducive to spamming filler encounters, so it's not as easy as saying "old game better" for me.

The lack of companion banter in Act 3 when compared to the previous acts. Hell, even Act 2 has a fair bit less than Act 1.

The way that some companions feel kinda hollow when you're not actively engaged in their romance. More platonic connection! One of my favorite scenes in the game is the platonic stargazing with Gale. Let me dance with Wyll without it being romantic, let me go on a friendly night on the town with Karlach, let me experience some of these scenes through the lens of friendship. I know that this is probably one of the more time-consuming tasks for the team at large, but it's one that I would love to see some day.

The character creator is lacking in body types, facial structure for various ethnicities, and a truly broad scope of what trans/non-binary bodies can look like. However, I'm incredibly grateful for what we did get and I will take one small step if that means it becomes more and more common in RPGs. I'll fight for more, but I will be happy with what we have in this game.

Is BG3 the bestest, most greatest CRPG of all time? No. Do I love BG3? Yes. Is it my favorite BG game? Ask me that question in ten years.

[seresinsbabe]

Push and Pull

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x fem!reader

Synopsis: It was always push and pull between you and Bradley until one night he pulled for the last time.

Warnings: THIS FIC IS 18+ MINORS DNI, allusions to smut, tiny bit of angst, fluff

I do not consent to having any of my work shared on any other platform. If you see any rendition of my works on another site know that it has been posted without my permission.

————————————————————————

“So, are you single or is some other sailor about to walk in and kick my ass for talking to you?”

How exactly were you supposed to answer that question? Because technically you are single. Though with the way you could feel Bradley’s eyes boring a hole into you right now it seemed like the sweet sailor in front of you and might get his ass kicked.

This was how it had been for months between you and Bradley. A constant push and pull. One minute he was pulling you close, saying sweet things and making promises that you knew were empty but couldn’t help but believe they weren’t. Then the next he was pushing you away, reminding you that this agreement was supposed to be nothing more than sex. Two friends fulfilling a need for one another. It was irritating. You just wanted a firm grasp on where you stood with him but he could never give you that.

Every time you tried to have that conversation with him he either got pissed off and walked away or he distracted you with sex. Neither reaction was conducive to sharpen up any blurred lines.

From his spot by the pool tables Brad kept his eyes on you. You were too pretty for that fucker. Too smart, too kind, just too good for him. Bradley could tell from here all he was interested in was getting your clothes off.

You’ve done nothing but get her clothes off. The grating voice in his head reminded him. He hated that voice. Mostly because it was alway right and oddly sounded a lot like Hangman.

He hated that he couldn’t stop himself from being a total asshat with you. Every single little promise he’d made you and never fulfilled ate at him. Because he did want to follow through with him. He really did. Like the one where he promised to teach you how to play piano. Or where he took you to his favorite secluded spot on the beach.

Why he couldn’t commit he didn’t know. Well…that wasn’t true. He did know. The last thing he wanted was to leave a wife and kids the way his dad had. To die on a mission or in training. Even if he knew a life with you was what he wanted. Hangman had told him more than once that he was stupid for keeping you at arms length. He was right. Phoenix had told him he was a dick for toying with your emotions and that you deserved better. And she was also right.

You deserved better than the guy currently holding your attention and you deserved better than Bradley. He was selfish in his inability to let you go, but he just wasn’t sure he could live without seeing that heart stopping smile on your pretty face. Or seeing the way your eyes crinkled when you really laughed at something. Or hearing you cry out everytime you came on his cock. So he couldn’t let go, not until you made him.

“No, no I’m single.” You smiled up at the sailor and moved just a little bit closer. Both because you are mildly interested in the guy, even if you’re mostly sure he just wants a quick night, and because you want to see if Bradley will react.

The guy, he’d told you his name but you didn’t remember, grinned in return and placed his hand on your hip.

It wasn’t but a minute later that a familiar strong grip was tugging you away. “She’s taken.” Your eyes narrowed and your brows furrowed as you looked up to see his face. Jealousy swimming in those pretty hazel eyes.

“Bradley!” But he didn’t say anything, just shot the guy a warning look before whisking you away into the Hard Deck bathroom.

Your back hit the door as soon as it was closed, Brad’s palms resting on either side of your head as he caged you in.

“Why do you do that to me?”

“Do what to you?”

“Flirt with other men.”

You rolled your eyes, a frustrated huff coming from your lips. “Because Bradley. I. Am. Single.” You enunciated the words. “You’re the one that keeps making it clear we are fuck buddies and nothing more.” Your finger jabbed into his chest.

Bradley let out his own frustrated huff. He did this to himself and now it was up to him to get himself out of it. Was the Hard Deck’s bathroom really where he wanted to do that though? From the look on your face it was clear it was now or maybe never.

“I don’t want you to be single.” Smooth Chicken Little. Real fuckin’ smooth. He really hated how much that voice sounded like Hangman.

Your face scrunched up again — this time in confusion.

“Then why did you tear me away from a potential boyfriend?” You crossed your arms over your chest as you stared back up at him.

He gave you a sarcastic look.

“You and I both know he just wants to fuck.” You rolled your eyes in response. It was always the worst when he was right. Bradley almost never let you live it down, but you’d put up with it because it was cute the way it made him so happy.

“And that’s any different than you how?” You asked, gearing up to be emotionally disappointed by the aviator once again.

Bradley looked like he was in pain as the gears in his mind spun. All hands on deck as he tried to find the words to tell you how he felt. When he couldn’t find them he just kissed you only to have you push him away.

“Stop it! Bradley stop always trying to distract me with sex! Kissing me or fucking me isn’t going to make this prob-” He cut you off with another kiss. This time his arms wrapped around your waist to pull you flush against his body and it was all you could do to melt into him.

When the two of you finally broke away you were both breathless. “Me. Be with me.” Bradley didn’t dare open his eyes. Just rested his forehead against yours as he waited for you answer him by pushing him away.

“Wh-what?” You were confused because you were certain you would never hear those words from the pilot. “I thought this was nothing more than sex between friends.”

He let out a half assed chuckle and finally opened his eyes. The hazel orbs meeting yours, searching them to find an answer.

“I was stupid, for a lot of reasons I can tell you about later, but I need you. I want to be with you. Please?” He sounded so sincere and a little desperate. Your voice caught in your throat and your hand came up to cup his cheek.

“Please don’t play with me. I can’t take any more of this Roos.” You couldn’t help the whimper. Because you liked him, hell maybe even loved him, but your heart couldn’t do anymore push and pull.

It felt like a stab in the heart hearing how broken you sounded. It hurt him even more knowing he was the reason you sounded like that.

He started to shake his head, swallowing the lump that formed in his own throat. “I’m not playing baby, I promise.” His lips found yours in another searing kiss and you knew he was being sincere. Whatever had made him come to his senses you were thankful, and hopeful that it lasted.

“Take me home Roos. Please.” All he could do was nod and pull you from the bathroom to do exactly what you’d asked of him — to take his girl home.

[evilkennedy]

hesitant acquaintances

pairing: Leon Kennedy x Ethan Winters

word count: 1.1k

summary: Officer Kennedy is assigned to watch after an android, an EW700 model, household assistant, also known as Ethan.

warnings: none !

“Kennedy.” The call of his last name forced Leon to sit up a bit straighter, the familiar timbre of his boss’s voice kicking his ass into gear first thing in the morning. He couldn’t help but frown, he hadn’t even had the chance to finish his coffee yet, but it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Still, he knew better than to grumble, but he didn’t turn in the man’s direction as he responded.

“Yes, sir? Got an assignment for me?” His voice was anything but enthusiastic, rather gruff and annoyed in nature, though it had been like that naturally for years now, no longer the bright eyed, bushy tailed rookie he’d once been.

Two sets of footsteps approached his desk, making his eyebrows furrow in interest as he turned around in his chair, eyes moving between his Captain and an… android. What the fuck? Before he could even speak, his Captain cut him off, raising a hand almost as though he’d anticipated Leon’s complaints. “Don’t start, I already know you’re not gonna like this, but you do not have a choice, understand?” Beside him, the android blinked, large brown eyes uncanny and lifelike but disconcerting nonetheless. As hesitant as Leon was, he couldn’t help but notice it almost looked like a puppy, features sad but eager, almost as though it had been waiting for further instruction.

“Why me, can’t Hunnigan babysit your android?” He damn near whined, hating every second of this. Throwing one of his closest friends under the bus was certainly low, but he really did not want to deal with someone following him all day. He wasn’t the trainer, he was barely still an officer in his own right with the shit he’d pulled– Maybe this was his punishment.

“Ethan isn’t my android. It isn’t the precinct’s android either, it’s assigned specifically to you until further notice. EW700’s, designed for home assistance, have been shown to be the most likely to deviate and since you are our lead on deviancy cases…” He trailed off, allowing Leon to connect the dots, even if he really didn’t want to.

“So you’re rewarding me by making me a babysitter, got it.” He scoffed, sinking further down into his seat as he sulked outwardly. The Captain patted his shoulder in faux sympathy. “It’s more important than you think.” The man turned his attention to Ethan, muttering good luck before making his way back toward his office, leaving the pair alone.

Leon didn’t look in the other’s direction, but he could feel him hovering, hands interlocked behind his back as he waited, for what, the officer wasn’t sure. He sighed, running a hand across his exhausted features, before reluctantly turning his chair to face Ethan fully, taking in his appearance more thoroughly. He had to admit that he was certainly handsome, though the thought made him uncomfortable. He wasn’t human, he’d never be human and yet Leon couldn’t look at him like he was only a piece of equipment.

“Hello, as you have already been told, my name is Ethan. It is nice to meet you, Leon… Or would you prefer Officer Kennedy?” He tilted his head in question, pulling Leon out of his reverie. His voice wasn’t quite what he’d been expecting to hear, everything about him was made to be enticing, conducive to humanity and its mundanity, but he couldn’t help squinting at him distrustfully. The only androids he’d had experience with outside of those he interacted with briefly at stores or at the gym, had been deviants– androids that malfunction– that kill. Despite Ethan’s perceived innocence, Leon couldn’t bring himself to let his guard down, hackles raised like a guard dog.

“How would you know?” He snarked, not purposefully trying to be unkind, and yet it certainly came across that way. Ethan appeared taken aback, if only for a moment before schooling his features once again.

“I’m sorry?” He replied, confused by Leon’s response. While he could pinpoint the attitude in his tone, note that he must not take a liking to androids at all, he couldn’t quite put his finger on what exactly he was being asked to consider– to know.

“How would you know if it’s nice to meet me or not? Or are you programmed to be nice?” Leon crossed his arms indignantly, leaning back in his chair as he interrogated the poor android. For Ethan, it clicked, brown eyes shimmering in recognition as he put the pieces together. Leon was insecure.

“Do you know whether or not it is nice to meet someone immediately upon meeting them or do you say it in order to be polite?” He answered, pausing only for a moment to allow Leon to consider what he was saying before speaking again, “It is the same for me. I cannot know whether it was actually nice to meet you or not until I get to know you further, will you allow me to do so?” His intonation didn’t entirely lack warmth, but it could be seen as flat, though apparently he said the right thing as Leon nodded, small smile worming its way onto his face.

“I guess I have to, don’t I?” He teased, smirking at the android as he blinked blankly, eyebrows furrowed in interest. Leon would be an interesting man to learn. Before he could respond, the officer was turning back to his desk, getting back into his files as he took a sip of his temporarily forgotten coffee.

A notification flashed briefly on Ethan’s HUD, software instability ^, he shook his head, almost as though he could shake it away. He didn’t know what that meant, but perhaps he could bring it up later.

After a few moments, the blond approached behind Leon’s chair, hovering over him as he worked on his files. He began to tidy up around him, unsure of what else to do within his programming without further instruction. Technically Leon was now his owner whether the brunette liked it or not. He only stopped him as Ethan grabbed at his near empty mug.

“What are you doing?” He ground out, moving to take his coffee cup back from Ethan, who did not allow him to.

“I am making you another cup of coffee. I assume you take it black?” Leon’s shoulders relaxed, another sigh escaping him, though he was grateful for the offer.

“Actually, two spoonfuls of sugar, please. Still black.” Ethan nodded, turning to head off into the direction of the breakroom, but before he could get too far away, Leon called out to him.

“Ethan?” He stopped in his tracks, turning to look at the other again. “Yes, Officer Kennedy?” Leon cringed inwardly at the formality, but spoke again, “Thank you. And you can call me Leon.”

For some reason, this provoked a small smile from Ethan. He nodded, changing Leon’s identification in his HUD. “Okay.” He breathed, “You are welcome, Leon.” He gave one last curt nod of his head before walking away, the notification from earlier flashing in his field of vision once again, software instability ^.

a/n: this is much shorter than I would have liked it to be, but there will be more to come. 😁

[surlifen]

guide to surlis sonas

aka an excuse to Poast Images and drone on because I love to do that!

current main sona I think and closest to a truesona: this otter guy who remains unnamed because all the names that are my name have already been used at this point LMAO

art by nepeteaa and by me! I'd honestly draw him more often if he weren't hard to draw? surli was easy because. Fox. (and Generic Thin whereas my body type is, while still pretty thin, specific in a way that's hard for me to draw) and honestly I enjoy drawing him more oTL.... otters are super hard to stylize cutely + in a way that looks Like Me... surli does not look Like Me teebeehaiche

surli fennec surlifen main sona of the past and still like... kind of me it's complicated

imbages by jilf and vhsdruid

i kinda ended up disconnecting from his Design as a Whole and the alt palette didn't really fix it but nonetheless he's never leaving my possession. it's weird cause my brain can really only connect fully to one character per Thing/Setting as a Sona who is Me so ever since splitting off into otter I don't feel FULLY connected to either the way I once did to surli :( but I am experimenting with having multiple sonas and maybe ill try that thing people do where they also do sonas for different Aspects of themselves so I don't just have an army of Normal Nice Blonds

pokesona: liam

art by me, cicadaghost, me

not much 2 say he is me pokemonned! he's much Smaller Cuter than I am and I really enjoy his simple design + imagining him in the pokemon world :3 like what berries he'd like best and what specific cities/landmarks he hangs out at... hiking in ilex forest and visiting the national park yk

lee: bunny....sona....?

art by me, purrker

he was a bit of an experiment in "CAN I have more than one fursona?" and also "CAN I make a sona who isn't Exactly Like Me?" i've always seen people whose sonas have Supernatural Elements and been like how can you do that. I respect it so much but if EYE am a normal human person how can I connect to something with strange abilities and qualities. and I still couldn't go so far as like... my friend whose sona is an honest to god several stories tall kaiju with a backstory and shit, but lee has supernatural luck and a connection to/control of storms/lightning because that's sick and awesome and cool. and also glows and has cool antlers when he wants. he's not as me as the others but he's there and he's not... NOT me?

fucking... willie dustice, silver city "self-insert" joke guy

unfortunately I DO love his stupid ass. you know how sometimes in a comic or animated show there'll be some obscure reference to one of the creators or someone on the team like as a gag that goes over most people's heads well he's supposed to be that. his appearance is me at my worst (needs haircut + shave) and he has the OP superpower of putting people in pocket dimensions of altered reality he controls entirely but he ONLY uses it to make stupid filler bottle episodes like They All Have To Play Softball or Beach Episode or whatever. represents my oft-abused ability as a creator to Put Those Guys in a Situation. he's not so much a sona (cause if I made a silver city sona it would be genuine not this greasy freak) but he sure is Representative of Me.

horse: horse

i was challenged to make a horsesona. I don't plan to do anything with him but kept him around because I liked his design. someday I might make a more natural horse sona for in case I ever joined some kind of equine rp setting or some shit equivalent but for now my sparklehorse

spinxynsona: coast

art by capricorne, me, me

coasty woasty... made for the nephfei world for the spinxyn closed species. first closed species sona ive ever had and i think hes neat! nephfei is such a well designed world that is really conducive to stories and characters influencing each other's arcs but coast is just some guy he's just there. he just lives there and minds his own business. (he has no gifts or curses so nothing really requiring a Story) but maybe i should get him some Friends at least maybe i can have a sona who has Story OC Friends from other people and still be like yes thats me if i was friends with everybody's ocs

dnd character who was based on me: august

art by me, thembodino

it was suggested since I have a very hard time being In Character (i get so self conscious) that I start with a character similar to myself! so august is incredibly Just Me FR. if i were to go on an adventure i would be bad at it and terrified. his campaign is suspended due to Life but i accidentally, due to knowing nothing, picked a pretty OP blend of stats that has made him bizarrely competent (not like. the best in the party or anything but he really can hold his own and once like critted twice and turned invisible and flew and killed a dragon) and honestly that's hilarious and I like it for him

that's it! the rest of my characters are just characters not sonas though I still love them dearly, some of them even more than some of my sonas i won't name names though ty if you made it this far. i love to Talk

[collapsedsquid]

“You can make good money,” Loustalot said. “The job is not rocket science, you know what I mean? It is very, very, very simple. You could get complex about strategies and stuff like that. But at the end of the day, it’s a very simple job. If you can do it well and treat people well and get a good reputation and do a good job, then you can make good money. That’s what kept me in it.” [...] There’s no such thing as a work-life balance for a freight broker. Stine said, while he was a freight broker, his date nights with his significant other were constantly interrupted by calls. “I would constantly have to get up and check my phone or talk to a driver and try to book the load,” Stine said. Those calls aren’t exactly fun, either. Brokers, as middlemen tend to be, get blamed for things gone wrong, even if it’s not their fault.  “When you’re constantly blamed for stuff you can’t control, that’s just not conducive to mental health,” Loustalot said. “That’s probably a huge part of it. That contributes a lot to the stress and turnover and attrition.” The ex-freight brokers I spoke with, like Loustalot, still regularly pull 60-hour workweeks. It’s a hard habit to shake. Stine is the same way.  [...] “That’s why I’m excited honestly around the tech side,” Sharkey said. “I think technology can help with a lot of the bull—-, really actually improve what some of us are doing on a daily basis and stop us from working until midnight some nights.” That’s the kind of management Tschirgi (jokes about Zyn and energy drinks aside) advocates.  “Between nearshoring, technology and AI, [you’re telling me] that we can’t figure out a solution,” Tshigri said. “It’s just the lazy way to do it, and the way it was done in the early 2000s and the way brokerages have been successful. They don’t want to go away from that. “We know we can hire people right out of college, give them all-you-can-drink energy drinks and coffee and beer at the end of the day and rooftop happy hours,” Tschigri said. “There was something fun about that for a couple of years and then you realize that’s not sustainable at all.”

Terrible job but it pays well, but soon the computers will take that job away

[allycat75]

What is bothering me about "Red One".

Terrible movies are about as common as the lies our former president spews from his cracked and diseased face, so why is this one so different? I think when you start looking at something, you start seeing things you can't unsee. Kind of like when Brad Pitt decides to make a movie about the two women who helped bring down Harvey Weinstein, even though Mr. Pitt not only knew for years what he did after confronting him in the early 90s for harassing his girlfriend, ran straight toward him to produce his movies even though his wife at the time was traumatized and requested he not do it. But that is a rant for another day.

Overall, this movie just doesn't seem warm and Christmas-y. I almost feel forced to participate and enjoy it.

The Rock is a flim flam man, as many are in Hollywood, but the fissures are starting to show in his "nice guy" image. He is vulnerable to his fragile male ego and can't admit a failure, which only makes it worse. He created a real life villian of himself with the whole Black Atom/DC controversy that is so convoluted, the only thing I know is that if a woman had attempted these hijinks she'd be branded a hysterical, compulsive liar who should not insert herself in matters that don't concern her.

The marketing for this movie has already started with a lie- that it has tested "through the roof". Just the irony of being dishonst about a Christmas movie- maybe because they know this is already a big steaming lump of coal.

Here, the Rock's describes this gem of a movie:

Or I can just watch any of those movies individually and get sick of Dwayne Johnson playing the same character over and over in every movie, and enjoy Harry Potter and It's a Wonderful Life on their own. Truthfully, is that meant to sound good? (He also referred to it as a "joy bomb", and like most things he says I can only believe about half of it).

You know what also doesn't sound warm and Chrismas-y? This:

The film has been described as "a globe-trotting, four-quadrant action-adventure comedy, imagining a whole new universe to explore within the holiday genre." If you're wondering, "four-quadrant" refers to the four major demographics Hollywood is always looking to win over — males, females, people under 25, and people over 25. And Amazon evidently feels "Red One" will appeal to all four quadrants.

Yeah, let me take my four-quadrant family on opening weekend! So welcoming.

Also, both leads are over paid and need a hit as they have had some major, I mean major, debacles to overcome. And it is not great being known as profit poison at a time when there is much more scrutiny of the bottom line. I can sense the desperation of this cash grab oozing off of them.

Interestingly, only a few years ago CE was named one of the best bang for your buck actors. Now he can barely get work and no longer has an audience (he alienated his fans and the general public either doesn't know him, doesn't care, or thinks he is hella creepy). But he has said he wants to quit and smoke pot all day, so maybe Hollywood will call his bluff this time. Besides, I doubt they were able to get the best performance out of him, considering his life was beginning its implosion while filming, even if he might not have known the full extent of the eventual destruction at the time. The mindset he displayed wasn't conducive to authenticity and Christmas-y-ness.

Ok, I know we all want original content, but maybe I should have been more specific and added that it needs to be sincere, too. I hear nothing sincere when someone tries to describe "Red One". It doesn't help that this is home grown from 7 Bucks, Dwayne Johnson's production company. They probably looked at the material in an echo chamber and lost perspective. And as we have seen, The Rock isn't know for his humble acceptance of criticism. The following official description sounds like a nerd wanting to show up all the popular kids who made fun of him in high school ("See, I wrote a Hollywood script that is now a movie. Bet you wish you went to the prom with we now, Courtney!"):

Red One is a fire-breathing Christmas action movie that completely reinvents the holiday genre. […] Red One is a really fun original action film for both Johnson and Evans, and it’s a world building piece of IP which lends itself to potential sequels set around different holidays

Boy someone thinks highly of themselves! Already on the make to ruin other holidays. I saw somewhere they claimed this could be a franchise comparable to the "Lord of the Rings". Whoa, Nelly. Pump the breaks on that male privlege. You are embarrassing yourself!

It's this need for empire building, I believe, is what will crush "Red One". This forced joy, what many of us feel at this time of year, has takes away the true spirit and fun of the holiday season.

Well, we know CE can ruin Valentine's Day, Halloween and Thanksgiving. Looks like he is well on his way to doing the same for Christmas.

This has about 7 more months to play out and maybe I am wrong, but right now it just leaves a bad taste in my mouth, like egg nog left out from last Christmas. So, I think the two leads better get their measurements in now for the suits they will be wearing at the 2025 Razzie Awards. Here are some ideas for their rapist-supporting stylist:

PS- And, by the way, what the fuck is with the name- "Red One"? Sounds like a horror film about an itchy rash that will destroy the world. The Rock is the only one that can save us, but decides there is too much division right now and isn't going to support the President, played by a sad, hollow Chris Evans.

[cityandking]

1, 12, 14, 18 for dai, minah and vesper!

thank you my dear!! // questions about creating your ocs

1. What was the first element of your OC that you remember considering (name, appearance, backstory, etc.)? 

DAI — theme. I knew I wanted to play a religious character and I knew there was a very Present religious order in airedon that worshiped the sky gods, so he was initially born out of the concept of this really grounded, rooted, earth-adjacent character looking up at the sun and the sky and loving it and striving towards it. everything else kind of slotted into place from there. MINAH — backstory. it helped that we got a whole bunch of campaign lore (plus just, y'know, there's so much DA lore to work with). I always knew she was gonna be a bit unscrupulous and dissembling and kind of went from there. also, fun fact! she was originally gonna be a he VESPER — name. vesper was born out of the ashes (well, a long period of tweaking and re-consideration) of my first inquisition playthrough, so in a lot of ways I had everything set out in broad strokes, but it wasn't until I had a new name that I really began building a new (and better imo) character.

12. What have you found to be most difficult about creating art for your OC (any form of art: writing, drawing, edits, etc.)? 

ok well besides the fact that I can't draw them the way I wish I could draw them...

DAI — his voice is a little stiff and he doesn't do joy well. every now and then I'll have a thought about something (usually a dairef thing) and I just can't pin him down enough to get into it. this happens less when we're playing, but every now and then he just stalls out. MINAH — the secrets she (and I) must keep. also artistic skill rip (I just want to design warden armor) VESPER — her color palette honestly isn't super conducive to edits. also I started writing her ages ago and sometimes it's hard to get back to her voice; I feel like I use to write her much more easily

14. If you had to narrow it down to 2 things that you MUST keep in mind while working with your OC, what would those things be? 

DAI — first, he's upright in all things: morals, posture, obligation, kindness, vows. everything about him should feel like it's standing solid and straight-backed, like it could take a blow and stay standing. second, beneath all that honor and stalwart truth and hope is a deep well of wryness that he can draw from ad infinitum. it's where the bitchiness comes from MINAH — first, her gut instinct when talking about herself is always to lie or deflect, even when it's completely innocuous. there's usually at least one layer between what she says and what the truth is, even if the lie is only in the presentation or the performance. second, her loyalty goes deeper than she'll admit—she's fond of people and bonds easily, even though she tries to keep them at a comfortable arm's length VESPER — first, she is always ready to set herself on fire rather than see anyone else burn or freeze. she's got a martyr complex and a deep well of determination and the two don't play well together. second, she is so tired. she is so so tired. let her nap

18. What is the most recent thing you’ve discovered about your OC? 

DAI — oh lordy. most recent? it's either how hungry he is to know more about his family or how hungry he is to feel solid and real. I made a post a while back about 'how bloody is your OC' and looking back at that I think part of dai's problem in the astral sea is that he hasn't had a chance to get bloody—fighting himself was a good way to get into the meat of things (literally), and the god baby was better because it was tangible change. I think. I'm still trying to get a read on his mental state; he eludes me sometimes MINAH — honestly the cold-blooded mage murder was a surprise to me too VESPER — vesp has been so solid for so long idk what recent thing I've discovered about her. I'm sure I'll have new thoughts and feelings once veilguard drops

[dalliansss]

“well, someone's cranky today?” Prompt?

Hiii! Happy to see you are doing those 💋 either curufin or feanor with this ?

&. 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐬 (𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬?) 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

Thû, maia of Námo (or really, Melkor in a lesser fana), appears out of nowhere in Naga-shape, and slithers into Fëanor's forges. The frequency of the maia's presence is belied by the casual reaction the smith's apprentices regard him with, as well as the familiar greeting sent his way by the elves. Thû answers each one, rattle-end of his half-serpentine fana rattling as he slithers further into the forge, inspecting this work table, or peeking at an apprentice's work here and there.

The maia gets told Fëanor is at the design room, and Thû makes his way there, eager to see what the elf is up to. He finds Fëanor surrounded by sketches of designs. The design room is one of the crucial areas of a Noldorin forge; it is where smiths and craftspeople brainstorm designs or hold meetings regarding joint commissions or massive projects. Fëanor is seated by the left-hand side of the long table there, not by his usual place at its head, peering down at some rough sketches of what looks like a massive, rectangular box.

For some time now, Thû and Fëanor had been engaged in a sort of friendly competition where one designs one contraption, gives it to the other for the other to figure out, and then it is the other's turn to design something to be given back, and vice versa. Thû's latest contraption had been something the maia called a blender, a glass cup with blades inside that could crush ice and fruits and even vegetables, or meats, turning them into a smoother cream or purée depending on the user's needs.

The naga-maia comes to a stop beside the very busy smith. Thû, feeling mischievous, prods Fëanor's side with the tip of his rattle-tale. "What you doing? What you doing, 'Naro?"

Fëanor, ever the focused craftsman, despises being disturbed when he's in the middle of a designing session. He turns to Thû with half-crazed eyes, blood-shot, signifying that he has been consumed by his current idea and that he probably hasn't left his forges for two days now.

"I'm busy!" Fëanor grits out. "Get thee gone!"

Thû blinks his serpentine, slit-pupil, gold-iris eyes. Pouts. "Well, someone's cranky today?"

Fëanor drops his pencil, ushers the naga-maia out, out of the room. The next thing Thû knows, he's outside, and the door is slammed shut in his face. His rattle-tail gives an offended rattle.

"Meh, I just wanted to see what he was up to," the maia mutters. He slithers away to look for Fëanor's boys then, see if anyone of them is conducive to disturbances. Maybe he can drag one for a swim!

[johaerys-writes]

Ch. 12: Maps

Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning

“Lad, do you have a moment?”

Patroclus stops short before Peleus’ office door. Peleus is sitting behind his grandiose desk, the dark mahogany wood smooth and shiny in the light slanting in through the tall windows. The rich pine green curtains are only partly drawn, and the room is illuminated by the soft orange glow of the desk lamp. 

“Sure,” Patroclus says, taking Laika off her leash. She trots happily up the stairs towards his room where her food and water bowls are. Even though Thetis isn’t in the house anymore, it’s still something of a habit for both of them to share the same space, at least for now. He hasn’t had the heart yet to stop her from coming to his bed at night to sleep, and he can’t really think of a reason to do so, save for the constant layer of dog hair all over his clothes. But he has found that of all the things that bother him in life, this is the least of it.

He takes a step inside the office just as Peleus stands up and comes around the desk to lean against it, facing him. “Achilles isn’t with you, is he?

“No. He wasn’t here when I took Laika out on a walk.” 

Where are you going? Patroclus had asked him earlier that day when he saw him tying his trainers next to the door. Achilles had only answered with a shrug of his shoulders and a vague, Out. No other explanation given, and in the time it had taken Patroclus to summon the courage to ask for one, Achilles was already gone. 

Since Thetis left, they… haven’t spoken much. Achilles has spent most of his time brooding at school or in his room, not talking beyond the bare necessities—except for the occasional snapping at his father or the grumbled complaint about this thing or other. Peleus has taken it all in stride so far, not gracing Achilles’ snide or flippant remarks with much more than an acquiescent smile, which somehow makes Achilles brood even more. 

And that, in itself, is surprising. Achilles doesn’t often brood like this. He’s usually wont to simmer hotly for a short while, barely containing his rage or displeasure, before he finally explodes— and then it all goes away as quickly as it came. But then again, Patroclus is not sure how well he knows this side of Achilles. He wasn’t even here the first time Thetis left. So he doesn’t really know what to expect. 

Patrocllus thought he'd be relieved if Thetis ever went away. But it isn’t joy or relief he feels now. Somehow, he can also feel the hollow spot left by her absence, perhaps likes Achilles does, leeching away every other sound, thought and feeling in the house like a black hole. It steals his words and fills him with numbness. He doesn’t know what to say anymore, what to do.

Besides, the way they left things after their fight hasn’t exactly been conducive to an honest conversation, like the ones they used to have. So, leaving Achilles on his own to brood it is.

Peleus sets his cigar on the ashtray and crosses his arms leisurely over his chest. “I thought it was a little too quiet in this house,” he says with a small chuckle. “When it’s quiet like this, that’s when you know he's up to no good, eh?” 

Patroclus laughs awkwardly in response, even though he isn't sure that he agrees completely. Most of the time, Achilles is quiet in Patroclus’ presence: when they’re studying together in his room after school or lying on his bed, listening to music; when they’re hanging out by the shed or when they take their bikes and roam the empty sideroads between the fields in the golden-grey post sunset twilight. Achilles is always so calm in those moments, his eyes either sharp with focus or soft with contentment, his smile genuine and pure. 

This is the side of Achilles, Patroclus thinks, that he knows best. That he loves best. The side of Achilles that only he gets to see. 

The side he hasn’t seen in a while. 

Peleus’ smile melts away just a little when Patroclus falls silent. “I knew it would be hard for him, if Thetis—his mother ever left again,” he says. “Last time she did, he… didn’t take it very well. That’s what I’d been hoping to avoid this time, but— ah. Well. Life is life and people are people, and you can’t change one nor the other, right?” 

Patroclus tries to think of something to say, but Peleus doesn’t look like he’s waiting for an answer. He sighs, and suddenly he looks several years older. He reaches for his cigar and takes a big puff. “He’s a wild thing, unruly. Always has been. You know this better than me, lad. But he has a tender heart. Make no mistake about that.”

Patroclus swallows thickly. There’s a lump there that wasn’t there before, making it hard to breathe. “I know,” he whispers. 

“Don’t know where he’s off to this time, and it’s getting late. Would you mind going out to look for him? Shouldn’t have gone too far, but you never know with him.”

“Uh—yes. Of course.” 

“Oh, and, lad?” Peleus says as soon as Patroclus turns around to leave. 

He pushes himself up and takes a step closer to him. Peleus’ features are hazy with the shadows of the oppressive room and the smoke of his cigar, but Patroclus can tell that he has his customary smile on: it’s warm, friendly and comforting, but there’s a sadness in it that Patroclus can’t remember seeing before.

“Keep an eye on him for me,” he says. “Will you?”

Patroclus doesn’t think he’s at all qualified for that anymore. He isn’t sure Achilles even wants him around— but, yes, of course. He’ll have his eyes on him, always. He doesn’t think he’s ever had a choice in the matter.

He nods slowly, and Peleus smiles again.

“Good lad,” he says, giving Patroclus’ shoulder a firm squeeze. He turns around and walks back behind his desk, reaching for the crystal whiskey decanter on the small bar beside it. “Oh, and make sure the gates are closed when you go out, alright? Don’t want any jackals wandering in again.” 

Read the rest on AO3

[junemermaid]

writer interview

I was tagged by @vaynglories, @lynne-monstr and @la-muerta all at one point or another. Thank you all kindly, sorry it took me so long! 💗

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

120 unique works. I have two double entries from when the old Yuletide archive was imported to AO3, so the total on my author page is 122. It's missing any fic I wrote before 2005 but honestly I'm fine with those being lost in the mists of the internet. If you know, you know.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,004,161.

I didn't actually wait to do this meme until I passed the one million words mark, but I also kinda did.

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

bodies full of untold stories (malec, E, Shadowhunters) / 1,343

an act of faith against the night (malec, T, Shadowhunters) / 1,037

House of Ash and Salt (dorian x bull, M, DA:I) / 995

Walkers of the Winding Path (malec, E, Shadowhunters) / 933

Talking With Strangers (malec, E, Shadowhunters) / 930

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I used to and it's my one continuing regret that I haven't been able to catch up with my inbox! The greatest reason why I currently seldom reply to comments is that I have such a backlog. The other reason is that I will either answer comments or write more fic, and I'm sure everyone rather that I do the latter. Still, I miss the conversation around fic that replying to comments often generated.

I mean: I need more writing friends and goddamn, please talk to me because I feel detached from fandom and it's the worst thing.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Probably to make the saints attend them long (malec, T, SH) which ends with extremely heavily implied MCD.

I tend to write hopeful to bittersweet endings, so this was a rarity for me.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Define happy ending? I do have one, all souls sheltered, (dorian x bull, T, DA:I) which IS the soft epilogue I wanted those two characters to have after all their toils and troubles.

These two questions mostly tell me that most of my endings don't fit well on the happy to sad scale. I tend to leave characters at points where they can look forward to the future and any acute crises are over, but I really wish "happy for now" or "a happy middle" would stick as ending descriptions because that's where I live.

7. Do you write crossovers?

I write fusions? Not traditional crossovers but I have a very niche fic thing where I take Alec and Magnus and stick them into the worlds of videogames I love. To wit, the Witcher (Walkers of the Winding Path) and Final Fantasy X (Servant of the Spiral).

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yep. Didn't much care for it.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do! I've written my share of PWP but more typically the process goes something like this:

I find a kink/trope/sex situation I want to try writing

the fic grows copious amounts of plot/worldbuilding/interpersonal drama (exhibit A: the tentacle porn that came with 3,000 words of, uh, creature logistics so I could have tentacles)

I spend two years working on bullet point two before the characters ever get naked in each other's company

My smut fic tends to the tender/longing/emotional, though. I use sex mostly as a vehicle for character exploration or to drive the drama of a story, so most of my sex scenes pull double duty to also move the overall story forward.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge. I'm a pretty niche writer in most of my fandoms, I don't think you would make either much fandom fame or big bucks with my writing.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! to make the saints attend them long is translated into Italian.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. I'm a slow writer and I have to hew out writing time from the bedrock of my RL, so it wouldn't be very conducive to sharing a creative project, even though the basic idea appeals to me.

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I was gonna make a joke about being asked to rate my children, but tbh I would rather not refer to fictional characters by any family term. However! I have changing obsessions and there's always some ship or canon that is eating up my brain at any given time, but I don't really get over ships. The details of canons fade with time but characters live forever in my heart.

Back in the mists of time, Ichigo and Rukia changed who I was as a person. (Then I added in Renji and It Got Better.) I adore Alec and Magnus but the fandom was categorically A Lot. Same with Dorian and Bull. Josephine and Cassandra were a total crack ship in the sense that there's no canon but I still love the idea of an f/f lady/champion pairing.

And right now I have two competing wuxia ot3s vying from my attention so. This is not a question I can answer.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

My general fic writing philosophy is "whatever you can, whenever you can". I've made my peace with the fact that sometimes I'll start a thing and post a bit and then it simply won't get finished. Fic is free and no one has to click on a WIP (much as I love those people who will!)

So, unfortunately there's a few old WIPs on my ao3 that I don't think will ever get wrapped. The older the fic, the less likely it is. I keep them up as testament to the process, I suppose, or in case anyone likes the idea enough to read whatever I managed of it.

15. What are your writing strengths?

Putting canon under a lens until I have a mental Wall of Crazy with ten thousand interconnecting red strings and obscure notes, and then wringing story out of elements in the text that might not seem to connect on the surface.

I know sometimes you have to just wholesale go "this makes zero sense" and drop a bit of canon, but what I enjoy is taking bits and pieces and adapting them to fic. My current project is writing all the Mu Nihuang POV she really kind of doesn't get in Nirvana in Fire itself, and I am having a blast.

Also: character voice, action scenes, evocative description, setting up an emotional punch and taking you out with it 2,000 words later

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm slow, picky, and obsessive. I have to be In A Mood before I can put words to paper (I'm trying to combat this by becoming more of a garbage goblin about my first drafts. All words are good words! Hissss!) I'm bad at humour unless I'm accidentally funny.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

It can be used to good effect but it's best used sparingly. I would generally always prefer that plot-relevant or important dialogue were simply, "This is the murder weapon," she said in French. Don't withhold information or emotional impact for the sake of showing off.

And oh god, never, ever put dialogue through MTL and expect it to come out right. If you absolutely need dialogue in a foreign language, consult an actual person that speaks it.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Very technically, ElfQuest. For actual published fic, Rurouni Kenshin.

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

Mysterious Lotus Casebook tickles my brain but I don't yet quite know what I want to write about! I have enough trouble herding the rowdy cats that are my NiF ideas right now.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Always the one I'm working on. So much of the joy of fic is bound up in the good creative rush of making it happen. Just as so much of the woe of fic is in the fucking toil of making it happen.

Anyway! Flowers in Dreamland Weather (jingsuhuang, E, Nirvana in Fire) got me out of a slump and gave me new characters and relationships to rotate in my head, and I love it for that.

Talking With Strangers (malec, E, Shadowhunters) actually got finished in a satisfying way, and I love it for that.

Maybe those are my current answers.

-

I will no-pressure tag — @theotherjax, @electricshoebox, @faejilly, @sinni-ok-sessi, @ladymatt, and anyone that still wants to do this! I've seen this doing the rounds, so if you haven't yet, please feel free to blame me for enabling you!

[widowshill]

How do you think Dark Shadows would differ if made today? Would it still be the cult classic or is that kind of writing lost to us?

with the disclaimers that I don't think you can set out to make a cult classic, and also I only know as much about the entertainment industry as the next person, and also I don't really think the writing in Dark Shadows is that good, I do think it's an interesting question! I'll do my best.

To start: for me, the lion's share of the show's enduring appeal is in its earnestness, and part of that is the palpable shoestring budget. things like flubbed lines, camera man and mic shadows in the shot, and other genuine mistakes are part of what you watch the show for, they do not detract but add to the experience. this contributes a similar sense of watching live theatre (paired with most of the core cast being new york theatrically trained and bringing that acting style with them) because you know you're seeing something usually done in one take, where the mistakes bleed through, where who the actors are as people is alongside them on the stage. they flub, and recover, and this is part of the story: so too do the Collinses make vast mistakes, and go on. it is an imperfect world riddled with faults.

This is not something you're going to get in the current media landscape from one of the big networks like ABC; I find it almost impossible to imagine a daytime show being produced with the kind of natural errors Dark Shadows contains. To capture that same kind of poor theatre troup earnestness you would have better success as either a) actual serial theatre, b) a webseries / tiktok series / etc, c) a low-budget independent or college tv station, or d) a miniseries, possibly. If a major network took it on and purposefully put those mistakes in, it would not feel the same. I'm a bit bored of the constant insincerity/irony in a lot of 2020's media, and I think it would rapidly veer into that genre of work.

As far as being a daytime serial, specifically, I don't think the current media environment is exactly right: part of the reason they aired a gothic horror soap opera to begin with is it was part of the broader cultural conversation, next to television like Bewitched, The Addams Family, I Dream of Jeanie, The Munsters, The Twilight Zone, etc. American entertainment in the late 60's had a love affair with the occult (with witches, monsters, ghosts, the works) and this permeated broad aspects of arts and culture: The Haunted Mansion opened at Disneyland in 1969, Monster Mash was number 1 on the Billboard chart in 1962 (and #91 in '70, and #10 in '73). Pair that with prominent artists like John Zacherle's discography, Vincent Price's film credits, 70's gothic horror comedies like The Rocky Horror Picture Show and Phantom of the Paradise, and of course the wild popularity of gothic romance paperbacks in the 60's and 70's. This isn't everything, of course, but just to broad-strokes the landscape.

It's not that we don't have supernatural media today — horror is one of the highest performing movie genres, and there are shows like Ghosts and WWDITS, and Watcher Entertainment — but it's not quite the same explosion of culture (in my opinion). Making a gothic romance-horror-vampire serial would be more at home in the 2010's among the love affair with Twilight, True Blood, The Originals, the dominance of horror game Youtube, the height of Supernatural, Crimson Peak, What We Do In the Shadows 2014, etc. One imagines this is why the 2012 film adaption came out when it did; the cultural moment was conducive, overall. Most nighttime network television today (and I am generalizing) is dominated by legal, medical, and police drama; current soap-operas (especially General Hospital) reflect that, and there are only three soaps getting aired, period. Nothing is impossible: but a soap in the Dark Shadows vein (ha) getting green-lit today seems unlikely, vastly unlikely with the ebb in vampire fervor.

What I will say that works better in today's production moment for a potential series revival (revision?) is we're starting to see an embrace of practical set building / prop making / etc that was lost to us for a little while, especially among the horror genre. For example: Blumhouse's FNAF utilizing the Jim Henson creature shop, the beautiful set work on Haunted Mansion 2023, the use of practical effects in Beetlejuice 2. This is something that to me feels integral, for making Dark Shadows. You may disagree! But I don't think the heavy dependence on CGI did 2012 any favors. The magic inherent in the show (curses, ghosts, whatever you want to call it) is supported by movie magic and the invisible (or sometimes visible) artisanal hands crafting the world for us.

Moreover, with Bridgerton, especially (but also Emma, Little Women, The Gilded Age, The Great, etc) there's been a bit of a renaissance of lush period pieces. The current fascination with historical romances (and anachronism!) lends itself very well to a dive into 1795 or 1897. My best guess is that if we produced a revival right now, there'd be a very heavy focus on one of the alternate time periods (probably 1795), and they would lean on anachronism (and sex) very heavily, and the present year would be a very very minor presence, if they bothered with it at all – and maybe they wouldn't!

As for the writing, specifically? There's nothing that extraordinary about Dark Shadows' writing, to me, what is extraordinary is the characters and the actors' management of them (and Lela's direction) and what they are able to do with the script (aside from a few standout moments of memorable lines). There are brilliant television writers out there who could write a lovely gothic adaption. Some of our priorities in terms of storytelling are different: one thing you would have to acknowledge that the original show rarely dealt with and never performed well on is race. However a lot of the dominant concerns in the cultural landscape do reflect the issues at the forefront of the themes in the writing: especially women's bodily autonomy (Barnabas' hypnotism and forcing Josette's identity onto the nearest brunette/the inherent violation of biting and enthrallment, the way his victims are 90% of the time poor women, or sex workers, or the criminalized and otherwise vulnerable); women's economic position (Liz running the house and business, Victoria and Maggie's subject to endless horrors for a wage, Carolyn free to kick getting married down the road because she's economically secure) and the rigid dominance of the hetero-nuclear family structure as it is entwined with economics in America, and its subversions; and, especially, the way that the American houses (architectural, economic, genealogical) are built on the exploitation of those beneath them, often demanding the physical sacrifice of bodies and blood.

If I had my choice — and this is not what I think is probable, what is probable is a lean into the literal vampires and witches and sex associated in a modern-day setting — a current version of Dark Shadows would lean heavily into those themes, and take the reflection of the literal monsters (Barnabas, Angelique, Quentin, Laura, etc.) on the metaphorical monsters (Elizabeth, Roger, Burke, David, etc.) seriously. Preferably I'd want it set in the 1960's-70's again, because, like Collinsport, we seem to repeat the same sins over and over again, currently we are engaged with and reversing much of the progress that was made by social movements of that era, so in some senses we are returned to that time, culturally. Preferably I would emphasize the mystery? the permeation between the boundary of human and monstrosity? that dominated the early supernatural arcs with Laura and the beginning of Barnabas; and emphasize the terror, especially the terror of violence contained within the charming, and genteel, and refined, and beautiful. Above all I would not begin any first episode of anything with Barnabas, who should be first and foremost a reflection on the family so ready to accept him as like kind.

cult classic? I don't know. I think there's an appetite for earnestness; for long-form storytelling; for the quotidian — to learn about characters as they eat breakfast and bicker, as well as fight monsters. and theatre-trained enunciation that you can hear. I would hope, with sufficient intimacy training, the kissing and sex scenes would be a little better and not make me so very miserable.

[xalygatorx]

just an a/n from ao3 about fic comments and messages on death in pink

I’m a little surprised this needs to be said, but I’ve also not discouraged it before now, so some of that’s on me—picking apart a chapter I’ve posted (criticizing it, overanalyzing it, projecting on it, whatever) except to like maybe note a line you liked or something is not conducive to the enthusiasm and joy it takes to continue and ultimately finish what’s essentially a serialized WIP.

Additionally hopping into my Tumblr DMs and getting overfamiliar with me is also a source of discomfort. Asking a question is fine if you don’t want to use an actual “ask” for that, I get it and it’s cool, but anything past that is more than I signed up for. Getting those critiques via DM is, believe it or not, also not great and is somehow more uncomfortable than the AO3 comments described above.

Maybe you think you’re helping. Like fair enough. But it’s not helpful. Please don’t do either. It freaks me out to a degree and adds pressure to something I am doing for fun and posting for fun. 

It’d be different re: the picking apart of actual pull quotes if this were a finished work fully posted but it’s not. Usually when I’ve posted a new chapter, I’ve been working on it up until literal seconds before it shows up in your inbox/bookmarks. Getting those sorts of comments or DMs within minutes of that sort of work is a fucking atrocity to my motivation and mental health because it’s the equivalent of getting the half-digested, chewed-up version of something I spent hours on spat back at me.

The answer isn’t continuing to do as I’ve done and tolerate and maybe unintentionally encourage it by responding and trying to nudge the conversation in a kinder direction (unfortunately). It’s not my job. :’)

I’m a sensitive person, it’s true, but I’m also published and no stranger to criticism…on a finished project that I’ve flung into the ether and have no immediate need to look at ever again if I don’t want to. I’m coming back to this every day, sometimes twice a day, and in the last couple of chapters’ worth of time, I’ve started to dread it. I’ll stop if I keep dreading it, so instead I’m writing a very uncomfortable A/N for the next chapter that I will now have to force myself through drafting. Or I’ll post this by itself. No idea.

I was going to just hide activity from users that this is happening with so only I had to deal with any fallout and didn’t create discomfort for the people causing me discomfort, but knowing what I’m like I’d find a way to read those sorts of things anyway. Honestly, I don’t even know who those comments are for—if they’re for me and meant to dissect what is essentially my ongoing draft in real-time, that’s kind of fucked; and if they’re meant to start a discussion with other readers, that’s cool and all but they come to my inbox and I read every single one.

No one’s called out. No one’s in trouble. Anything prior to this getting posted is off the board. That said, we can chill out and be lighthearted about the things we say from this point or the block button will become my new best friend bc I do want to keep writing this and I don’t have the emotional energy to afford space to people who make me uncomfortable. Especially after I've made my discomfort this (gestures vaguely) abundantly clear.

Anyway. This doesn't apply to the majority of people who have commented, so I also want to acknowledge and appreciate that amidst my boundary barf.