#anyway i'm so excited for this story!

[prettycoolducks]

Fav father daughter duo ✨️❄️

[nerdymariamania]

As someone who's been a Team Starkid fan since the beginning, since 2009... do the young fans who only know hatchetfield know the old lore?? Do you know about crying in the choir room?? Do you know the door gag? Do you know Liam's got a phone call? Do you know about the iconic accidental sing along SanFran Con appearance? This isn't me being elitist or anything, I genuinely want to know! I just feel so very much older than all of you, all the time. Does anyone remember Tanya and her gay little blonde bob???

[trensu]

Guess who's baaaaack! It's me, I'm back to writing. My laptop when kaput back in May and I've only recently gotten a replacement. In celebration of this, here's more of stasis in darkness. Enjoy :)

.

“Hello. I’ve wanted to meet you for years,” the god said. 

“Years? But, why would you want–? I’m–I’m no one, Lord.”

“Don’t say that.”

The god’s voice hadn’t gotten louder, yet his words carried a force that made the room tremble. The air became heavy with it. Wayne’s breathing grew haggard under the pressure of the words. Steve tossed out any idea of false privacy and crossed the room in a few steps to kneel at the other side of the bed. He took Wayne’s free hand to anchor him. Wayne didn’t so much as twitch in his direction but his knuckles went white as he gripped Steve’s hand.

“You gave me your spoils and your stories every night. I felt your love in every word you spoke to me. You’re the reason I’ve been able to exist this long. Wayne Munson, you are the most important person in the world to me."

Wayne let out a wordless cry. The hand in Steve's shook. Steve viscerally remembered how it felt to have the god’s attention like that for the first time. He also remembered how guilty the god sounded after he realized the effect he had on mortals. With a slight grimace, Steve discreetly nabbed the Lord of Night's attention. 

"I think that was a little too much," Steve suggested cautiously in a low tone barely audible over Wayne's sobs. "Maybe dial it back a little?"

The Lord of Night nodded abashedly. When he spoke again, the pressure in his speech noticeably lessened though the love in his words remained.

“So, you see, I needed to meet you in person. To thank you.”

The last part made Wayne weep louder. The grip he had on Steve’s hand increased in strength, and Steve was sort of relieved Wayne was an old man because even this frail, his hands were pretty damn strong. If he’d been any younger, Steve would’ve had bruises for sure. The god waited patiently as Wayne collected himself.

“My Lord, y-you–” Wayne gasped as his crying subsided. “I don’t deserve–”

“Wayne, you crazy old man, are you going to argue with your god?” the Lord of Night said in the same teasing tone he used with Steve all those nights in his pilgrimage. Wayne’s eyes widened.

“N-No! I’d never–!”

The god laughed, playful and bright as a star. Wayne halted his protests to stare in awe again. 

“You know, I usually encourage a bit of dissent but this time, I’m putting my foot down. You do deserve this, okay?”

Wayne nodded dazedly. He still watched the god with soft, warm eyes. His hand twitched in Steve’s as if he wanted to reach up to touch the god. Steve loosened his grip to allow it but Wayne didn’t follow through with the motion.

“...you remind me of someone,” Wayne whispered. The Lord of Night tilted his head curiously.

“Do I?” he asked. At Wayne’s nod, he added, “I hope it’s someone good. I know what people say about me these days, and let me tell you, it’s not super flattering. King of Darkness this and monster herder that, blah, blah, mean and scary, blah.”

“I know better than to pay any mind to hearsay,” Wayne replied. "I’ve found that most people are fools, my Lord." 

The Lord of Night laughed again. Wayne looked delighted. 

The rest of the night continued along the same line. The Lord of Night listened eagerly to Wayne’s every word as he reminisced about past heists and recalled fond childhood memories. Steve kept to himself, for the most part, letting the Lord of Night and his last believer bask in each other’s presence. Wayne stayed awake as long as he could but finally fell asleep as dawn approached. The Lord of Night began to fade as the first rays of the morning peeked through the bedroom window.

“Watch over him for me, please?” the Lord of Night asked Steve. “I’ll be back tonight.”

“Of course, Lord,” Steve replied. 

The sun broke past the horizon and the Lord of Night vanished. Steve took the stone from the bedside table. He wrapped it up carefully in cloth before returning it to his satchel. That level of care probably wasn’t necessary considering it was solid stone but it was the only thing they knew would keep the god tethered to this plane so far from his last shrine. Steve was charged with carrying his god's tether and he would not let him down by being careless with it.

It was also the only thing he had been given that belonged to his god. Typically, a holy warrior would be granted a symbol of their faith by a temple priest once a god had accepted the holy warrior’s offered service. Most of the time it would be a simple pendant or bracelet with a god’s sigil; a mass produced thing any follower could obtain, the only difference being that a holy warrior’s token would carry a particular blessing from the high priest. A holy warrior would carry that as a sign of their commitment until they’ve earned a more prestigious item to replace it during their years of service.

Steve’s journey so far has been as atypical as it could get. Most warriors traveled to their god's grandest temple. They recited that god's specific prayer for a holy warrior's offering, witnessed by a high priest who would then reveal whether the offering was accepted. Steve's god had no official prayers of any sort, much less temples or clergy. Steve's god couldn't really remember his own symbol aside from a vague outline of it; not nearly enough for it to be inscribed on even the simplest of tokens. 

Regardless, Steve wouldn't trade his experience for anything. Most holy warriors toiled for years, even decades, before getting a chance to meet their god. Steve met his god nearly at the beginning though he hadn't known it at the time. He'd been able to see him and speak to him. Steve’s humble offering of servitude had been accepted directly by his god rather than by priestly proxy. So what if his god wasn't able to grant him a token for his pledge? His presence was a privilege Steve would take over any boon.

It was a sentiment Steve knew Wayne understood. Steve scooted his chair closer to the bed where the old man lay sleeping. He wrapped a hand around Wayne's wrist to track his weak pulse, and settled in for his vigil.

–

Steve woke Wayne a handful of times to make sure he drank some water or ate some of the vegetable soup Steve had thrown together using whatever he’d picked from the garden the day before. They chatted for a while; Wayne telling Steve about his life before age and sickness caught up to him. Eventually, Steve was able to coax him back to sleep when it became obvious his energy was fading.

At some point in the day, Wayne’s temperature began to rise. Nothing worrisome yet, but dread trickled into Steve’s veins regardless. The old man had been fighting whatever ailed him for a while now. If a fever overcame him, Steve doubted Wayne would survive it.

When the Lord of Night appeared alongside the fading sunset, he seemed as worried as Steve. Wayne sat in bed, propped up by pillows Steve had strategically placed. His eyes were rheumy but steady.

“You’ve seen the Door already, haven’t you?” the Lord of Night asked Wayne dejectedly.

Wayne’s gaze strayed from the god. He glanced at the corner opposite of the bedroom door. His hands shook as he tried to point that direction. Steve didn't see any door there. The god took Wayne's hand between his own, tangible to his last believer even as he appeared more translucent than the night before.

“It showed up earlier today,” Wayne whispered. The god nodded.

“You don’t have to answer yet, but soon. Once you go through the Door, you’ll be in Death's domain. No god is allowed to enter there besides him. I would have lost my chance to meet you if we’d been delayed any longer.”

“Good thing you have Ser Steve. He got you here real quick from what he told me,” Wayne said with a crooked smile.

“Has he been talking himself up?” the god asked amusedly. “Trying to impress the boss?”

“It’s my first quest,” Steve butted in with mild exasperation borne of embarrassment. He hadn’t expected Wayne to mention him at all during his communion with the Lord of Night. “I have to make a good impression.”

“To make up for the first impression, huh?” the Lord of Night teased. 

Oh no, Steve thought when he caught Wayne’s curious look. He wanted to hide his face in his hands. That would be childish. Steve was a man so he was above that, unfortunately.

“Wayne,” the Lord of Night said with palpable mischief. “In exchange for all the stories you’ve given me these many years, what if I told you how I got my very first holy warrior?”

“I didn’t know better,” Steve groaned weakly in an effort to stop the story before it began in earnest. The Lord of Night made a shushing motion in his direction. 

“It would be a privilege, Lord,” Wayne said with matching mischief.

“Settle in, my loyal follower, and listen closely,” the Lord of Night began with exuberance. “I call this tale The Trial of Nine Nights.”

The rest of the night, the god recounted Steve’s pilgrimage. The way he told it painted Steve as some sort of gallant hero. It was suspenseful and whimsical. It didn’t sound like Steve’s experience at all. Yet every word was true, told with a flair that Steve himself would never have imagined. Wayne had hung on his god’s every word, despite the sporadic interruptions caused by coughing fits.

“The way you tell stories…” Wayne said faintly between coughs as the story wound to an end. “You…really do remind me of…someone. My little starmaker*. He was…” His voice trailed off weakly as he tried to catch his breath again.

“Rest now. Tell me about him tonight, Wayne,” the Lord of Night commanded as he disappeared with the arrival of dawn.

Wayne’s temperature seemed to climb with the sun. Steve did what he could to help. He stripped the bed of blankets and draped cold, damp towels over Wayne’s brow. More than once Wayne had asked Steve to answer the door.

“Someone’s knocking,” Wayne insisted.

“I’ve checked already,” Steve lied. He hadn’t heard a single knock all day, much less one coming from the very door-less spot Wayne kept indicating. “No one’s there.”

Wayne drifted in and out of a restless slumber. Despite Steve’s efforts, the fever had not lowered by nightfall. The Lord of Night paced at the foot of Wayne’s bed with a caged restlessness. Wayne had yet to wake up. 

“I don’t think he’s going to make it. Can you do anything for him?” Steve asked, hesitantly. “You came here to help him, didn’t you?”

“No,” the Lord of Night said shortly. “I can’t. I’m not a god of medicine. I’m not a healer.”

Each word was said with increasingly helpless frustration.

“I’m not strong enough to calm his dreams. I can’t ease his pain,” the Lord of Night said angrily. “At this rate, I won’t even be able to apologize to him.”

“Apologize for what?” Steve asked incredulously. Steve’s question went unheard. The Lord of Night tugged at his hood as if trying to hide his not-face. He gave up his pacing and slumped defeatedly on the chair beside Wayne’s bed.

“His family has sustained me for so long. He’s so devoted to me, and I keep failing him,” the god said, voice thick with shame. The brooding silence that followed was unlike the Lord of Night’s usual demeanor.

Steve wanted to protest the god’s claim. He was tempted to ask why the god believed he’d failed his last follower. Steve had seen people who’ve scorned and rejected their gods for a multitude of reasons. Wayne had not behaved like any of those people. Wayne had been so happy to see the god, Steve couldn’t imagine Wayne wanting an apology of any sort.

Before Steve could steel himself to ask, Wayne finally stirred awake.The Lord of Night straightened and drew the chair closer to his last follower. Steve situated himself near the corner Wayne had claimed to see a door. There wasn’t anything Steve could realistically achieve by placing himself between Wayne and the unseen door. When Death’s Door knocked, there was nothing a mortal being could do to keep it from opening. Regardless, Steve hoped he could provide some semblance of comfort by standing guard. 

Wayne’s eyes were glassy. He lay limp and disoriented, making not a sound outside his labored breathing. Neither the Lord of Night nor Steve spoke. Steve didn’t want to startle the man nor bring his attention to the unseen door. After a few minutes, Wayne finally noticed his bedside companion. 

“You,” he croaked in a daze. “I know you.”

“Yeah, it’s me.” The somber tone went unnoticed by Wayne whose entire face brightened with an unexpected joy. 

“Eddie,” Wayne said shakily. 

“What?”

“Eddie, you’re here,” Wayne said with more love and joy than Steve had ever heard from another person. He felt a momentary flash of envy that someone could hold another so dear, before it hit him that Wayne was speaking to the Lord of Night. The god seemed as dumbstruck as Steve over it.

“Is…is that me?” the Lord of Night asked. The god sounded so young and lost. It reminded Steve of Dustin and his friends when they were small. It inspired all the same protective instincts.

“‘course it’s you, Eddie,” Wayne said fondly. 

“Eddie,” the Lord of Night whispered. “Oh, it is. It is me. I’m here.” 

The words rang through the air. The finality in them nearly deafened Steve. The words were a realization that shifted the entire cosmos. The air he breathed, the light he saw, the very world he perceived had changed fundamentally. It was a change so loud and obvious, Steve was certain every human left on earth and everyone beyond the Door knew it happened. Yet between one blink and the next, the world remained the same as it ever was. Everything that had been still was and would continue to be for as long as the stars burn.

Inexplicably, Steve experienced a bout of vertigo at the shift that had and hadn’t happened. He fought back a wave of nausea that accompanied it.

“Eddie,” Wayne rasped over the rattling of his weak lungs. No longer translucent, the god appeared solid and real in a way he hadn’t even at the shrine where Steve first encountered him. Wayne’s wrinkled hand reached out to gently cup the Lord of Night’s cheek.

"Hey, Uncle Wayne," the Lord of Night said with a new voice. 

"My starmaker, I missed you. So much. But how're you here? You were gone, you di–"

"We didn't want you to be alone," Eddie, Lord of Night, responded thickly, leaning into the hand and covering it with his own.  "We wanted to thank you for taking care of us all these years."

"Don’t,” Wayne wheezed, teary. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Eddie. You deserved so much more than your pa or me ever gave you."

"No! No, Uncle Wayne, don't apologize," he said earnestly. "You were perfect. You gave us a home when pa died. We were so little and you protected us. You loved us. That's all we ever wanted."

“Oh, Eddie,” Wayne said in a heartbroken rasp. “That damn door’s been knocking all day. Who'll take care of you when I'm gone, Eddie?" 

"Don't you worry about that, Uncle Wayne. Steve's gonna look after me.”

“Are you sure?”

The Lord of Night took off his hood and turned back to look at Steve for the first time since he sat himself at Wayne’s side. All the air left Steve’s lungs in one fell swoop. His god had a face.

His god was beautiful.

The Lord of Night’s skin remained pale, providing a stark contrast to his large, dark brown eyes glittered with bittersweet joy and sorrow. His lips, full and a soft shade of pink, were pulled into a wide, mischievous grin that dimpled his cheeks. His dark eyebrows were almost hidden under wild curls. His hair draped over the slope of his shoulders and matched his eyes wonderfully.

Steve willed himself to stay steadfast and strong under the god’s gaze. The Lord of Night’s grin twisted a bit as if he wasn't entirely pleased by what he saw. The nausea from before came back because Steve knew what people looked like when he'd disappointed them. As usual, he had no idea what he'd done wrong.

“Yeah, I’m sure. He already promised,” Eddie, the Lord of Night, said. He turned back to Wayne and gently wiped the sweat off the old man's brow. 

“Good,” Wayne said with a. “You need someone takin’ care of you, the way you get in trouble all the time.”

“We weren’t that bad,” Eddie said with a watery smile. After a pause, Eddie continued reluctantly. “Uncle Wayne, if you need to answer the Door, you can. I won’t be alone.”

“Yeah,” Wayne murmured. “I’m tired, Eddie.”

“You won’t be for long, I promise, just answer the Door.”

Wayne’s breathing slowed. His eyes drooped closed. Eddie clung to his hand until it went lax. A choked sound escaped him when Wayne’s breathing stopped. Steve instinctively stepped forward to comfort him but Eddie abruptly stood up, sending the chair clattering to the floor. He whirled around and stumbled towards the empty space Steve left behind. 

“You better take care of him. Wayne is a good man, he’s earned–” Eddie said to…the wall? But stopped and reeled back. His mouth curved down in a scowl. Eddie’s eyes were dark and glowering as he stared at something there that Steve himself could not see.

“Oh, fuck you, I know I can’t do anything to you but–”

Eddie stopped again. He looked like he wanted to punch something. Or someone?

“I just want to know that he’ll be happy and saf–hey, asshole, I’m still talking you, don’t you dare– FUCK,” Eddie shouted at nothing. He panted in anger. Steve cleared his throat.

“My Lord?”

“I forgot how much of a dick he is. It’s not like I was asking for details! I don’t fucking care what’s past his stupid Door. It’s not a crime to want your family to, like, go somewhere good after. He could’ve just said yes or no!” Eddie ranted.

“My Lord, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Oh,” Eddie paused. “Right. You wouldn’t. And you shouldn’t. Not yet. Not for a long time, hopefully.”

------

*starmaker - so this is a reference to some lore i dropped in the previous scene during some edits I made after I had posted it on tumblr. basically, the legend explains why bedtime stories are a thing and that the lord of night creates a star for every story that impresses him. a really good book or author will get called a starmaker, though to the general population it's just a thing people say to denote greatness in stories without context of where the saying came from.

------

and now we're all caught up with what i've written so far, wow! but don't worry, i still have plenty more to write, stay tuned.

[yasmeensh]

Neanderteen with his comically large axe... (He's the heavy weapon kinda guy)

Kujo tries to lift it...

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

Post hoc ergo propter hoc

A con of being friends with the White House Press Secretary, Jyn finds, is that the good-natured hazing in front of the rest of the press room goes on for far too long. Another is that Leia will absolutely not take no for an answer on the “mandatory tour”, even though she clearly doesn’t have time for it, going by the four aides that immediately besiege her as soon as they step out of the press room.

Jyn is sure there will be pros as well, but she hasn’t found any so far.

“Leia, Draven wants you in his office in half an hour about the HUD thing,” says the last of the aides, jogging to keep up with them.

“Thank you, Kate,” Leia says without stopping, her arm still firmly linked with Jyn’s. “I’m just going to finish the tour for Miss Erso here. She’s my latest charge, she took over for Hal.”

“Oh!” The aide smiles brightly and shakes her hand. “Congratulations, ma’am,” she says and disappears down a corridor.

“Four people have called me ma’am today.”

“Get used to it. This is the White House, it’s like a reflex.”  Leia stops to delegate some more important press secretary business in the next office over – Jyn gathers it’s the Communications Office – then returns to scoop her up again and drag her down another hallway.

“You haven’t shown me a thing, Leia.”

“Well, that was Kleya Marki’s office, and down there’s the mess, that’s always important –“

Jyn has a sudden realization followed by a horrible, sinking feeling. “Leia, please tell me we’re not –“

Too late. Leia has spotted her prey at the end of the corridor, and pulls her towards him, smiling brightly and heels unmistakably loud on the polished floor.

“Cassian!”

Oh God. “Leia, come on, he’s busy. It’s my first day, he can –“

“Nonsense, he just looks busy. He always looks busy.” She grabs Jyn by the sleeve and drags her further down the hall. “Cassian, meet the new Post correspondent!”

Jyn stumbles along, feeling like an absolute fool for falling for Leia’s whole spiel and letting herself be dazzled by the West Wing of it all – and for knowing the guy she was stupidly, wildly in love with in college and then left without a word now worked in this building, and still putting off preparing what the fuck she would do when she actually met him again until, well… right now.

The man who has stopped at the end of the hall is in a fairly rumpled suit, carrying a stack of files and looks achingly familiar even from afar. For half a breath, she’s standing in some Yale hallway and is about to run to catch up with him and probably do something silly like try and tackle the papers out of his hands – and then she’s back in the West Wing and they’re all ten years older and successful, serious people again. And she’s back to wondering if he still knows her name. Or if he hates her. And which would be worse.

After a beat, he turns around and walks towards them, with a spooked look on his face like he, too, briefly tripped over ten years of baggage – or, of course, like he’s trying to place someone who looks vaguely familiar. Then something, probably the lawyer in him, takes over, and he fixes an easy, warm smile on his face. She always liked his smile. He looks older, and even more tired than he used to – naturally, he’s Deputy Chief of Staff to the president – but still, he looks good. His hair looks as soft as she remembers, which is a deeply unhelpful thought.

“Jyn.”

She feels stupidly relieved. “You do remember me.”

An offended frown pulls at his eyes. She always did like those, too. They’re such a nice brown, it doesn’t translate on pictures.

“Of course I remember you.”

(To be fair, it probably is insulting to assume he’d forget a girlfriend he had for seven months, but still. He’s busy, and at least it would mean he couldn't hate her for disappearing overnight and never picking up the phone again.) Jyn opens her mouth, closes it again, feels herself blush.

“He keeps your Baba O’Reily piece on his bookshelf, you know,” Leia says with a grin, still holding on to Jyn’s jacket like she’s scared she’ll try and make a run for it. The thought has occurred to her.

“Very funny, Leia,” Cassian says curtly and makes a vague gesture down the hallway. “I… I’d love to – I have the Secretary of Labor waiting, so –“

“It’s fine, I know you’re –”

“We should catch up, though,” he says absent-mindedly, sorting through his stack of files before adding, with a quick look up at her: “Off the record.”

“Right.”

“Maybe just come by my office before you leave, if you’re free,” he says, fiddling with the files that are starting to slip. “I’ll be here, and uh, marginally less busy.”

“Okay, yeah. Sure.”

“Great. Um - congratulations, Jyn, on the – I have to go.”

“Yeah.”

Leia watches him dart off, smirking. “So, you two are really over that whole thing, huh?”

[keep reading on Ao3!]

[demigod-of-the-agni]

A little special something for something even more special. Hint: it's about love and fears and birthdays and new beginnings

(@/marvel hire me <3)

[batbabydamian]

Al Ghul enjoyer PKJ as writer and Rebirth Nightwing artist Javi Fernandez for the new Batman and Robin team…fascinating…

this new run is distinctly darker in tone just based on the summary alone, but i’m so curious how “a different way to help the world begins to present itself” could mean for Damian!!

[ohmytiredheart]

It's uncanny how much the FNAF lore actually makes sense if you look at it through the eyes of TMA

[lloydfrontera]

y'know what's funny in a 'not really funny at all but i have to laugh or i'll start biting people' kind of way??

the adaptation team working overtime to make the relationship between javier and lloyd look so much less deeper than it actually is in the novel makes the novel look so much gayer than it already did on its own. like. sorry but your attempts to cover up the homoerotism just makes it stand out more in its absence.

because if there truly was nothing remarkable about lloyd and javier's relationship and they were just very good friends and nothing else then why take the time and effort to change it in the adaptation so they look less close than they actually are.

why skip entire scenes that make their relationship deeper. why change their dialogue and thoughts so they're less invested in one another. why give interactions that they had with each other to their romantic interests. actually why give javier a whole new love interest that did not exist in the novel.

why go through so much trouble to change something that is so important in the source material if there truly was nothing else going on in the novel.

what was it about their relationship that made the adaptation team decide they just needed to change everything about it so they weren't as close and attached as they were originally.

if they were truly nothing but platonic with each other in the source material then why change their relationship so much in the adaptation that it's almost unrecognizable.

what about it did they find so unappealing that they simply had to modify it until it was but a shadow of itself.

in trying to cover up something they only managed to call attention to it by the people who knew what was there originally. now we know that they wanted to get rid of it so badly they were willing to butcher the story and plot for it.

it's really funny :)

[moonchild-in-blue]

Australian Rituals / Teeth of God Tour Bingo

Alroighte gwois, let's hear your predictions for the upcoming rituals. I *might* make another bingo (like on Wembley) - even if I don't, let's get them all in one place cus I think it's funny.

If you have something specifically for the Teeth of God Tour (because they are headliners and can do Cooler™ Fancier™ stuff) do specify. Same for strictly Australian Rituals. Some stuff may happen earlier (like when they debuted TMBTE and the new Espera masks), others may only happen on the Tour, so let's just put them all here and see what happens 😗✌️

Please reblog/put on the replies your predictions!! Whether serious or silly, please share!

Mine are:

One of the Vessels (Vessel or ivy OR Espera!!!!) singing onstage with Oli

Kangaroo/koala headbands / Aussie Explorer hat

EUCLID (more for Teeth of God but wouldn't be surprised if earlier)

The Apparition (PLEASE)

The Summoning pushups will return

Older song throwback (please please Sugar or Jaws. TNDNBTG for ToG)

Outfit change for the Vessels (only cus i think Australia is quite hot now innit? poor iv will MELT in that jacket)

NEW VESSEL JEWELLERY

This one I'm not super confident/keen on BUT new Vessel mask with Antlers (more likely on ToG but who knows)

[americankimchi]

god i wish they hadn't retconned maul's death. i get wanting to explore more of his character because he was, objectively, one of the coolest star wars characters to ever hit the big screen and didn't get much screentime prior to his death, but also his role was fulfilled perfectly within those constraints so i wasn't too upset by it.

but by retconning it and making it so he never died it's like. okay. what now? the whole point (well, to me, ymmv of course) of the theed generator fight was that it was the first ever fight between the jedi and the sith in thousands of years, and that in the end even though the jedi (obi-wan) won the fight, a jedi (qui-gon) and a sith (maul) still died. a master and an apprentice dying together to herald the start of a new age/the return of the sith. perfectly paralleling the way in rotj a master (palps) and an apprentice (anakin/vader) died together to herald the return of the jedi. in both instances, a father figure (qui-gon/vader) dies in the arms of their son (obi-wan/luke) as a sith (palps/maul) is cast down into the abyss to their deaths. (palps being alive in the ST and retconning his death in rotj is also annoying for this reason)

i mean i like maul. don't get me wrong. he's an incredibly compelling character and i enjoy seeing more of him... but there's always the thought hovering in my mind like "he should be dead though. he should 100% be dead. this wouldn't be happening if he was dead, but i honestly would rather it not if it meant that maul was dead."

like the tpm fight just doesn't hit the same knowing that canonically he's just. going to become a robot octopus at some point. (shoutout to palps becoming sith glados in the ST) it cheapens the moment for me. it was supposed to be a moment of triumph marred by the deep and soul-crushing loss of a loved one and it's just... not, anymore. or at least not to the same extent. AUGH i'm just. frustrated. wish star wars as a whole wasn't constantly reframing/retconning what's been established. just puts a bad taste in my mouth.

[stuff-diary]

I did NOT expect the new season of Kimi ni Todoke to have hour-long episodes. I got a bit angry after seeing there's only five of them, but if each of them lasts 60-70 minutes, isn't that like 14 or 15 normal length episodes? 😳😳😳

[brynnmclean]

saw a post questioning shipping Senua and Thórgestr and started to reblog it with a tag novel-- felt weird about doing that since this is lengthy and potentially derailing, so making my own post instead. Spitballing under the cut:

First off, any time someone is like, "the real reason people ship this is because they find the dude attractive," this is SO funny to me as someone who doesn't find men attractive IRL and has fiercely loved Senua since I played the first game, like-- actually I find the dynamic between those two characters to be compelling and interesting precisely because of all the baggage between them re: their backgrounds, the rough (put mildly!) beginning of their relationship, all the things they don't talk about, and them finding a common enemy/common ground to work with. The explicit parallels between them stated in-game scratched an itch in my brain. The minute they pointed out the dark rot on his arm, it was like, "oh! hello there! NOW I'm interested in whatever your whole deal is" for me. Also, idk man, I too would follow Senua around after she knocked me into the dirt and then showed me a way to fight the giants that I very much wanted to fight instead of appease.

The idea that Thórgestr was part of the Orkney Raid that killed and mutilated Dillion is VERY interesting food for thought, even if I don't personally have that headcanon (surely there are more viking raiding groups than just the Bjorg). I think the Furies or the Shadow said something similar about Fargrimr (his kin murdered yours, you shouldn't save him, etc.) so I completely get that line of thought, but I think the game left it ambiguous enough that it's up for interpretation. Would I read fic with that premise? Yeah, I'd check that out. Could Senua forgive Thorgestr if his people were involved? Sounds fun to explore.

If (ha, when?) I write fic, I'd have to think more about it especially wrt timelines, like when did the Bjorg start specifically raiding for slaves for giant food sacrifices vs. killing people for resources and wealth? How far off are we from the old gods "dying" and the volcano erupting? Was it indeed a different group of raiders who made a deal with Zynbel, attacked Senua's home, and made the sacrifice at that time to Hela?

At the very least, I think there's a time jump between the end of Hellblade I and the beginning of Hellblade II since Senua wasn't alone on that slave ship and at least one of the (brief) survivors knew her by name. I wouldn't mind exploring that gap of time, too.

In any case I do agree that it would take a VERY long time for Senua to consciously catch feelings for anyone let alone Thorgestr with all their collective baggage. The idea of them having a relationship beyond friendship in the far off future of an AU where he survives is the only one that can make sense in my brain, personally. It would take time! Time they didn't get in the game! But I think there are a lot of different roads that could take, and some of them might be healthier than others. Shipping them certainly isn't forgetting or excusing what happened to Dillion-- or even mutually exclusive from still shipping Senua and Dillion. Or, frankly, also shipping Senua and Astridr, because I can see that ship too.

One of the nice things about all the details Ninja Theory didn't expand upon and that they left that ending so open is that the sky's the limit. I'm VERY interested in seeing fandom tackle this game as we get farther from the initial release.

[bucketsofmonsters]

Would you guys want me to post fanfics on here if they're still monster romance?? I asked this before for a one-shot and people said yes but this would be a long series I'd be posting weekly so I feel like I should gauge interest again.

[crownedwille]

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[lemonadehtwooh]

Playing Honkai Star Rail!

WHY IS EVERYONE THROWING MICROAGGRESSIONS AT AVENTURINE, DAMN 😭