#eight are hk

[prophecyoflunarflame]

I have too many Nosk ocs compared to how many normal ocs I have

[tvheit]

i am enamored by his short person energy

[peridots-pixiwolf]

Made some complementary badges for the @nonbiney-swag-competition thanks to @ghostisredacted's V1 request!!

[Start IDs. Four simple circular drawings, each featuring one character from the Nonbiney Swag Competition with the words "I Voted" above them and confetti on either side. All four are drawn almost exclusively in the colors of the nonbinary flag, albeit muted and indigo-toned, with a white base. The first is Pyro from Team Fortress 2 shown chest-upwards, who does a peace sign with a raised hand. Symbols that shape a unicorn horn float above their head. The second is a fullbody of Ghost from Hollow Knight, flaring their cloak open, emphasizing the motion with one hand and raising the other to their mask. The third is V1 from Ultrakill, another bust, where it holds one hand up to the camera to do a thumbs up. Despite a lack of a face, the way its "eye" is shaded suggests a grin. Lastly is the rather amorphous fullbody of the Slugcat or Survivor from Rain World, holding a spear and looking slightly upwards at the bats that hover around its head. End ID]

[onejamtart]

OJT EATS | The Eight

It was back down to Earth (well London) with a bump this week. Weirdly though, after having spent so much time in Asia, despite have some pretty major cravings for good authentic non-Asian, we found we weren't actually completely tired of Asian food and went for a stroll down Chinatown. We got peckish and ended up walking into The Eight.

Being a Cantonese diner, we had to get the roast duck and crispy roast pork belly. While the roast duck wasn't quite up to the standard of our favourite place in London (that's the Four Seasons just around the corner in Chinatown), it was still very good and the pork belly was pretty impressive too!

This was a seafood rice dish with an omelette on top. The egg was pretty tender and not rubbery which it often can be. There was a good amount of prawns on the plate and the whole thing came with a pretty tasty sauce. This was a pretty good dish and not a bad option if you are looking for a simple and quick meal.

Lastly, this was The Eight's signature sandwich. The bun is a pinepple bun and in it, there's spam, cheese, an egg and a bit of veg. I have to admit, I enjoyed this a lot more than I thought I would. We don't eat spam very often but every now and then, it can hit the spot.

All in all, this was a pretty enjoyable meal. It still didn't quite match up to what you can get in Asia, especially on price but when you're craving a cantonese diner meal, you could do a lot worse than coming here.

The Eight, 68-70 Shaftesbury Ave, London W1D 6LZ

Cheers, JL

[teawizardry]

New boy, this is Camilo

[deadly-glamourtail]

(Spoilers, I mean it!) Wouldn't be a crossover between In Stars and Time and Hollow Knight without doing at least some bosses.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 with the team.

These eight drawings were super fun! Maybe I'll do actual ISAT art later, or Art Fight will take my entire free art time, who knows.

Bigfrin was why I kept going in the first place, and Mal Du Pays was such a lightbulb moment. Details and rambling about crossover lore below!

Remember me rambling about using Nightmare as a replacement for the color Red in the first part? Well, there it is. Hallownest or not, the lore is still clear that the Dream and Nightmare realms were separated long ago, so Siffrin's wish connecting them and putting non-Grimm related Nightmare Essence into the waking world is still, uh, pretty huge.

Between regular Grimm and NKG, it felt right to take inspiration from the latter to do The Playing One. Because they'd be a huge boss in this crossover too, the dagger would also transform into something inspired by the Coliseum Fools' weapons, for visibility. And, since Dream Essence appears as Whispering Roots in the waking world, the best equivalent I could get for Sif's hat was a Nightmare Lantern, though much simpler.

With Mal Du Pays... It took a while to work out.

The first thing that comes to mind would be using Void, but that seems to be something too intrinsic to Hallownest (we know anywhere deep enough could hold Void and worshippers, but ISAT's plot isn't going down, but up). So I thought of regular Dream spirits, didn't seem to work, until a wiki dive got me in the perfect place.

Nosk can read minds and craft perfect facsimiles of important bugs found in memories, and shapeshift arms or wings as necessary to bring down their prey - maybe it's even smarter if not Infected. It was perfect! If they are a well known species, I'd probably follow the nomenclature from HK and call it Repeating Nosk, instead, but let's go with the Sadness for clarity.

Nosk is simultaneously Mal Du Pays and the ghosts in the House. In every loop, they take notice of the group, and put in fake Siffrins in their path to try and separate them. Because this never works, either because they're careful or the whole Memory of Ghosts scene, it goes on just as unexplained, since Nosk can just shred the disguise and blend perfectly into the black walls.

Until, of course, Act 5. There's no team, and now there's a single living bug other than the King for Nosk to prey on. But, since this is Act 5, Nosk reading into Siffrin's mind and becoming aware of all the loops, all the self-hatred, an incomprehensible stretch of extremely similar time breaks it bad.

Sif never notices that the ghosts are now really messed up, with stained clothes, broken masks and barely an attempt to use the same shape. In turn, Mal Du Pays won't strike because it's now aware that it wouldn't work, so, they wait.

Not sure how the fight would happen in the waking world in this crossover, but I wanna say the King sees it coming and lets it happen because he's an asshole like that. Mal Du Pays can't defeat Siffrin in a fight, so it waits until they're too exhausted, and does its thing.

Does it have a voice? Or does Sif take one look at the shells moving around and hallucinates the rest? Could go either way.

Either way, the team would have one hell of a fight in this version.

[skyfallslayer]

The Darkness In Me || Story 1: The (Wo)Man Without Fear

-Kingpin!Matt Murdock x Vigilante!Reader-

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

🖤 Series Summary: You were shocked to find out your childhood friend turned out to be the Kingpin of the underworld, but you had to put those thoughts aside to bring him down. You were Hell’s Kitchen vigilante, its protector. There's no valid reason not to stop him. However, when your hidden feelings for him start to surface once more, how will you be able to even think about bringing him down?

🖤 Story Summary: After all these years away, you’re finally relocated back to Hell’s Kitchen, the place where you were born, a place filled with happy memories. However, the city is not what you remembered, and when your job as a detective is not enough to save it, you might have to become something more.

🖤 Date: 8/8/23

🖤 Rating: Mature

🖤 Word Count: 5,162 (Consider this an introduction)

🖤 Warning: Blood; Alcohol Consumption; Small Reference to Past Abuse; Small Reference to PTSD; Domestic Abuse (not towards Reader!); Heavy Language; Mental Breaking Point; Brief Talk of Death/Dying. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

🖤 A/N: Matt's unfortunately not in this first story, but he is mentioned repeatedly! This first story's kind of introduction to what the reader is and how HK brings the darkness out in everyone. I will say this though, pay attention to some detail because I will be doing some call backs to them throughout the series 'cause they'll be handy. I promise! Also, the reader in this story does have special abilities that you'll have to try to piece together (because I'm evil like that. Lol). Other than that, Enjoy! And let me know if I miss any kind of warnings :)

You had down your third beer in one sitting before slamming it on the counter and heavily sighing. Your coworker, or should you say ex-coworker, watched you bittersweetly for the stool next to you.

“Take it easy, L/N. I don’t want to have to drag you back home.” Max, who was also your partner in the force, said in his usual kind voice.

“What home?” You reply, waving to the bartender for another beer. “I don’t have a home anymore here, remember?”

“It’s just a figure of speech.” He frowns, worriedly. “You really that upset about moving?”

“Well, fuck yes!” You pound your fist into the counter. “I screwed up on the tiniest thing ever and I’m relocated!” You grabbed the beer that was placed in front of you. “Relocated on the other side of the country.”

This unfortunately was true; You had accidently messed something up during an important case, something that was deemed extremely small compared to everything else and your police chief still punished you. You sigh again, taking a long swig.

“Hey, at least it wasn’t like you were demoted.” Max pointed out on the bright side. “Maybe this is a good thing. Didn’t you tell me once you used to live in New York?”

You nod, slowly, painfully. “Born and pretty much raised there until eight because of my parents passing.” You’re frowned with a hint of bitterness. “Then I moved out here with my good for nothing Aunt.”

Such a pain in the ass. You cursed and took another swig.

His concern deepens. “Okay, maybe stop with the beer.”

You roll your (Y/E/C) eyes. “Ah, I’ll burn it off. Alcohol doesn’t work on me.”

“Alcohol works on everyone.”

“Yeah, but not me.” Your metabolism was too fast to get a buzz. You sigh one last time, before putting a smile on your face. “Alright. Come on, partner–” You pat him on the back. “Let’s have a little fun. It’s my last night here.”

Max seemed hesitant at first before coping your expression. He chuckles and raises his glass. “Alrighty, then. To partners in crime.”

“To partners in crime.” You repeat and clink your beverages together. And before you know it…

You’re dragging him back to his house, apologizing to his wife for his drunkenness.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The sound of the key unlocking the front door was all you were focused on until it swooped open. You stare inside as your new landlord sidesteps to give you a better view.

“Here she is.” He said as you walked in, looking around. The place was small, you expected nothing less than a New York apartment; It consisted with a decent size kitchen, living/dining area, and a bedroom with a full size bathroom. There were a few cosmetic things that could be fixed down the road but it didn’t look too bad.

“Is everything to your liking, Miss?” He asked, with a nervous tone as you nodded.

“Yeah, everything looks fine.” You reply with a small smile. You were glad that you didn’t pack too much. “Uh, Mr. Gale–” You look at him. “The moving truck should be here tomorrow. Do I… need to do anything special? Like letting you know, or…”

He shook his head. “No. As long as you know them, I don’t really care who comes in and out of here. I just need you to pay your rent on time.”

You chuckle lightly. “Will do.”

He hums and starts to leave; but not before handing over the key. “If you need anything else, you know where to find me.” 

“Thank you.” 

Once he leaves you set your purse down on the kitchen counter, and roll your suitcase into the bedroom before taking a deeper look around. Everything seemed to be clean and intact. 

Good. The last thing I need is my new home to be falling apart. You stopped to gaze out your living area window, one that gazes upon the main road and other apartments nearby. 

This kind of reminds me of my old apartment. The only place you and your parents lived in before they passed. Not in the safest of areas (not like Hell’s Kitchen had many places like that), but you still called it home. But you’ll admit that the level above yours was much nicer that made you a bit green. But that color would fade every time you met up with him. The boy just a year older (and a bit taller) than you. 

Your friend. 

Your best friend you considered once. 

Your eyes fell to the sidewalk below, nostalgia running deep.

.

.

“Come On, Y/N! I’ll race you to the bodega.” He would tease and break off into a run, laughing like the child he was.

You would always puff out your chest in annoyance, but ended up always flustered by him. “Murdock, you dummy! I’ll get you for that!!”

And sometimes you would. Sometimes you wouldn’t. Sometimes you let him win because it made your heart flutter with joy.

.

.

You smiled bittersweetly at the memory, before feeling your soul completely ache. Your friend, he never… he never…

He never wrote me back. And that was the depressing truth. 

When you had to up and leave to live with your aunt, you and him would stay in touch by being each others’ pen pals. You guys would write pretty much every week, and if your aunt allowed it, you would give each other a call. But then one day… it all stopped. No more letters or phone calls. Just complete silence. It was like he just suddenly disappeared without a trace. It was…

Bizarre.

I wonder what ever happen to him? A part of you wants to know but then another part of you wonders…

.

.

.

Is it worth opening Pandora’s box?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The following day you find yourself catching your new badge as  it was flung in your direction, as the officer who’s being your “tour guide” walks sluggishly in front of you.

He waves his hand nonchalantly at you as he starts to speak. “We’ll get you fitted with a new gun later on, Miss…?” 

You tried not to eye roll as you repeated your name once again. “L/N.”

“L/N. Right.” He claps his hands together. “Okay. Uh, well… I don’t know what it was like in San Francisco for you, but I doubt it’s like anything you’re ever going to deal with here.”

You tilt your head, confused. “What do you mean?” You asked, and you followed him through a crowd of busy people in blue and business suits (who gave zero shits about trying to move out of the way as you passed). 

Seriously, we can’t just sit down and talk for a min–

He sighs loudly. “Listen, kid–”

“Kid? Where about the same–”

“New York, especially Hell’s Kitchen, is a whole other ballgame. There’s even a rumor that crime was born here, which I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true.”

You found yourself frowning, putting your annoyance on pause (or at least pausing to feel him/the place out). “That bad, huh?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “So whatever you do, watch your back, because even with a partner, you’re on your own.” He explained, as he entered the office area. “Speaking of which… Hey, Grimm!” 

A young looking lad looks up from his paperwork. “Yeah?”

“The new detective’s here.” He jerks his thumb in your direction. “Is Castle in at all?” 

Grimm scoffs. “When is Castle ever in?” He looks away. “Haven’t seen him since Tuesday.”

And… it’s Thursday. You thought, already getting a sour taste in your mouth.

“Let me guess–” You cross your arms and speak the truth you see in front of you. “He’s my new partner?”

“Captain Frank Castle. Ex-Marine turned Cop. He’s–”

“He’s a loose cannon.” Grimm shouts back, getting a dirty look.

“Officer Grimm!”

“What?” The young lad shrugs. “It’s true.”

Your frown deepens, the irritation you’ve been showing on and off your face all morning is starting to give you wrinkles. “So… a loose cannon?” You said, truly couldn’t believe what you were hearing. 

He sighs. “He is, but he knows his shit. You’ll learn a lot from him… when he actually shows up.” He mumbled the last part as he started walking again. He soon starts pointing around as he speaks. “You’re desk’s over here, use it as you please. Castle’s is across from you. Our murder board is over there for all our ‘bigger’ crimes, and next to it is our most wanted.”

You stopped in front of the board, curiosity peaked. Your eyes scanned to the first one. “Who’s Quentin Beck?” You asked, never hearing that name before.

“Quentin Beck, used to be a normal guy who owned a carnival in the park. Everything seemed fine until we got reports of people complaining about some… strange things happening. Turns out, on his main attraction, he was using drugs that induce peoples’ fears for them to stay longer. Or… forcibly making them stay longer.”

You nearly got a chill from listening to that. “Freaky. What happened to him? You obviously didn’t catch him.”

“Disappeared when we went in for an arrest. But we didn’t get any reports that he’s left the city or this country. So, who knows if he’s even still here.” A sarcastic smug tugged on his lips. “But hey, you’re a detective, maybe you’ll bring him in.”

You tried to hold your tongue, as you narrowed your eyes. “We’ll just have to see, won’t we, Officer?”

He seemed to not like your tone as you could see his jaw clenches. “Armory’s towards the back. Help yourself.” He said with a bit of a bite, and then left.

Asshole. You wiped your expression clean as you looked back at the board. So many names and so many faces to memorize. Yet, There were some… questionable people the police were supposed to take down. 

Sure there were some scary looking ones like Sergi Kravinoff, or Adrian Toomes. Then there were others that didn’t quite look menacing, like Jefferson Davis, or someone they just dubbed “Black Cat”.

Black cat? You must have had a puzzled look on your face because Officer Grimm suddenly appeared next to you to answer all your questions.

“She may not look like much, but she’s a master thief. She’s stolen a lot of goods around the whole city.” He explains, holding out an extra cup of coffee. “Goods that are damn near irreplaceable.”

“Thanks.” You said, taking a sip of the lukewarm beverage. “So she’s hard to catch?”

“Extremely. She always slips through our fingers somehow.”

“Well that sucks.” Your eyes studied the bored again, thinking. “This city has a lot more crime than I remember.” Or maybe you just didn’t see it because you were so young, which was a strong possibility. I mean you were only eight when you were forced to live somewhere else.

The next thing you said you only could wish it fell on death’s ears as you chuckle, jokingly. “There’s so much crime here, I’m starting to think there’s a kingpin running the show–”

Grimm’s hand suddenly latched onto your wrist, pulling you to his level. “Do not say his name.” He hissed, scared as his eyes were blown wide.

Out of surprise, yours did too. “W-What?”

“Do not say his name. Do not question him.”

“Q-Question who? I was just joking.” 

It was just a joke. Why does he look so terrified? You wondered as he seems to be recollecting himself, but he shows no signs of letting you go just yet.

You look between your wrist and his eyes, trying to keep the shakiness out of your voice. “Officer Grimm, do you think you could–”

“Listen, Detective.” He whispers, harshly. “In this city, we do things differently. And if you want any fucking chance at surviving, I suggest you follow the program. Do as you’re told, and don’t ever speak his name again. You hear me?”

You find yourself nodding out of fear, which seemed good enough for him as he finally lets go of you and walks away. You hold your bruised wrist close to you as you look away from his direction.

What in the hell– You look at the board again, looking at it in a new light.

.

.

.

What in the hell was that all about?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The rest of the work day you felt like if you didn’t tread water, you were going to drown. You had to watch what you say, what you did. You felt like if you did something wrong you’d get a dagger in your back or a bag over your head. You felt like you were a step away from the guillotine. 

It made you nauseous to think about it, just enough to chew on your fingernails the whole cab ride home.

This is a fucking police department. I shouldn’t feel unsafe. 

Never in your almost nine year career had you felt unsafe in your own job (and you worked in one of the most crime ridden cities out there). Now it was almost scary to even breathe without the thought of getting another scare from Officer Grimm. 

Jesus. How the fuck am I going to even do this? You let out a sigh as you fiddled with your keys. 

And what was he so afraid of? Who was he afraid of? Or was he just… overreacting? You can only hope he was as you finally reached the top of the stairs and started heading down the hallway towards your apartment; But that’s when you heard it (or really anyone should have heard it).

A harsh slap to the face and someone yelping in surprise. 

You faltered your movements almost straight away to listen, and you noticed someone’s cries -a woman’s- and a man speaking in harsh whispers in the apartment you stopped next to. You heard some… interesting threats that set off your “detective senses”. Putting on an emotionless mask and tucking away your keys, you marched to the door and knocked loudly like you were on a house call. You immediately heard everything grow quiet inside before someone was stomping towards the door, throwing it open like they were being bothered. 

“What the fuck do you want?” The man, you say mid-30s, snapped at you with cold eyes.

Really cold eyes. They kind of remind you of…

“Thought I’d stop by and say ‘Hi’. I’m your new neighbour down the hall.” You reply, staring him dead in the face (and tucked away the creeping memory that was starting to flash before you).

He scoffs. “And?”

Without even blinking you flash your badge towards him, watching the color drain from his face. “I work with one of the HK police departments. I was coming back home when I heard something alarming. Thought I’d make sure everything was okay.” You explain, as he swallows and your eyes trail past his shoulders to a woman whose face was lingering with bruises of every color in the rainbow. “Is she okay?”

“Her?” He laughs nervously. “She’s fine. My wife’s a klutz. She was cleaning out our closet when a couple things came flying off the shelf. You know how that is. Right?”

His lie made you mentally raise an eyebrow.

Seriously, that’s the best you could come up with? You almost laughed in his face, but you had to stay professional (bit seriously, he couldn’t give you the overused excuse that she was hit by a door?).

You looked back at the wife, replying, “Is that all true, Ma’am?” You hoped that she could see that you wanted to help, that you could help. You hoped she could see the worriedness and empathy you had in your orbs. The tiny shine that gave off the word ‘beg’. 

Just say yes. Just say yes I can arrest his fucking–

She shook her head too quickly. “Y-yes. I-It’s all true. I need to be more careful.” She said, and tried to smile reassuringly (it looked so painful to even do so).

“See? She’s fine.” The husband said, all smug once more. “Thank you for your concern, but everything seems good here.”

He slams the door in your face, and he acts like you weren’t even there because he started the same shenanigans again. You find yourself clenching your fists in a way your fingernails dug into your skin (Those familiar crescent moons will surely appear tomorrow).

You clenched your own jaw, gritting your teeth and your veins grew hot. 

I can do it. You felt your blood boil/bubble, and your fingertips getting coated in a red dust; Your eyes starting to turn the same shade of cherry.

I’ve got the abilities. I’ve got the strength to break down this door. I can just… But you let yourself trail off as realization sets in.

You can’t. 

You can’t be the hero in this.

You can’t risk exposing yourself again.

You can’t be the thing that you were born as.

And you fucking hated that. 

You take a deep breath, the ones that are long and you feel the chill in your lungs. Your blood settled, the haze disappearing, the light disappearing from your pupils. When you felt and looked normal, you fished out your keys again as you forced yourself to turn a blind eye on that monster’s home.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

After checking out a café near your place, you immediately dove into your work. Since your partner seemed absent again, and nobody else seemed to want to give you any pointers, you were forced to do things on your own, to find things to keep you preoccupied for your shift. Deciding it would be the best to refamiliarize yourself with your surroundings (Since you’ve been gone for… what? Twenty years now?). You start flipping through some folders that were “hot spots” for crime. After a couple, one of them caught your eye.

An old abandoned carnival called: The Cursed Carnival of Mysterio. And who was the owner? Well that was–

Quinten Beck? You pinch your brows together in confusion. This was… interesting. 

Quinten Beck, age unknown, is still residing on the property but hasn’t been seen since– What? Now you’re even more confused. Didn’t the officer yesterday tell you something completely different? Didn’t he say that Beck hasn’t been seen in years?

You shake your head and keep reading.

Hasn’t been seen since last month with his usual meeting with Dr. Curt Connors, talking over their deal with hallucination drugs– What the fuck? Now this really wasn’t making any sense. Why would someone write this down about a criminal and not do anything? 

Shouldn’t someone have stopped this guy already if they know he’s still here? And who is Dr. Connors? You bite your thumb as you thought all of this over, trying to see if you could make any sense over this. But everything you came up with fell short. It just didn’t make any fucking sense.

Maybe… Dr. Connors is like an undercover agent? Maybe they’re waiting on getting some intel before going after Beck? That seemed like a possibility (And one you were secretly wishing was true).

I’ve got to see who this guy is. You swerve your chair to the right to get closer to your monitor, quickly loading the database. However, just as you type in his name and click enter, your screen went completely black; and you could see why. In the corner of your eye, you saw one of your coworkers had unplugged the computer like it was nothing.

You cocked your head in their direction, disbelief resting on your features.

What in the actual fu–

“It’s probably for the best if you don’t look him up.” Grimm’s voice broke through as he was suddenly standing beside you. He had the most innocent look on his face, almost like he didn’t realize what just occurred. He gives you a reassuring gaze and replies, “Dr. Connors is… nobody to worry about.”

The façade you so desperately always keep on while on the job suddenly chipped away, your anger (and a sense of betrayal) started to seep in very clearly. 

That was your cross to bear. Your hotheadedness was something you always had to keep in check, which you always managed to do. But on some occasions it would slip out without even noticing.

Kind of like right now.

You were a snake that had set its eyes on its prey.

You stand up slowly, menacingly, as you lock eyes with him. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, low and cold that made his face twitch as soon as you spoke.

“W-Wh-What?” Grimm slurred, thrown off by your sudden mood change.

“I said, what’s that supposed to mean? Why shouldn’t I worry about Dr. Connors? If there really isn’t nothing, then why the fuck did my colleague over here just unplug my computer? Couldn’t you have come up to me and said something instead?” You seemed to have backed him in a corner as he paled under your intense gaze.

“W-Well… y-you seem pretty headstrong with your job, I’m sure you would have kept looking despite what we say.” He replies which was the dumbest fucking excuse you’ve ever heard (Seriously, what’s with these damn excuse all of a sudden?). 

You felt your blood starting to spike like yesterday, but you had enough control to keep your energy in check, but you couldn’t say the same thing for the venom that was trickling off your tongue into your words.

“And so what if I kept looking? Huh?” You jerk your thumb towards yourself. “I’m a detective. Even if they seem innocent it’s my job to look at even the tiniest of details until I rule them out as innocent.” Your voice starts to grow louder, turning a few heads but you didn’t care. “So what’s so wrong about me looking into this guy?”

It took his silence and a look of fear on his face to finally put the pieces together. Your state of incertitude last night had suddenly cleared like a crystal.

“Oh… I see now.” You said, a laugh was on the end of your tongue as you looked at him in bewilderment/surprise. “Let me make a guess–” You raised an eyebrow. “Am I not following ‘the program’ you spoke of?”

The whole room immediately froze and stared at you like a circus freak. Grimm paled some more as you scoffed at their reaction.

“Really?” You said, in disbelief. “You’re all taking orders from an outside source? Someone who isn’t our Commander?” Another scoff. “Oh, and let me fucking guess who that could be! Is it that Kingpin guy I was joking about yesterday?”

“Lieutenant, don’t say his name.” Grimm said, worriedly shaking his head.

“Or what? If I say it three times does he just fucking appear out of thin air? Why the fuck do we have someone using us and criminals as fucking puppets? Explain how that happened?!”

He waves his hands in defense. “Okay, okay! We will! But–” He swallows. “You’ve got to calm down first. Then once you accept the rules to the program, you can–”

“I’m not accepting whatever rules there are.” You snapped, shaking your own hand. “I’m not going to have someone other than my superior tell me what I’m supposed to do.”

“Lieutenant, if you don’t follow the rules there will be consequences. You could lose your own life, you could–”

“I’m a cop. The possibility of losing my life comes with it.”

“B-But this is different! This guy’s not someone you should mess with!”

“Then, you–” You jab your finger into his chest before waving it around. “Or anyone in this fucking room can tell this ‘Kingpin’ that if he wants me to join his little program, he’ll have to tell me himself. Face-to-fucking-face.” 

You snagged your belongings off your desk and stormed out of the office, never looking back.

Never looked back to them shaking to their core.

Never looked back as they mumbled with terror.

Never looked back as they crawled under their desk to hide.

Never looked back…

At the fucking mess you had been placed in.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

You wanted to scream. 

Or maybe you did when you decided to walk home instead of a taxi to… ‘cool your head’. In fact, all that thinking might have made your mood worse. The fact that everyone in that precinct was under some guy’s thumb said it all. How were you supposed to do your job if you couldn’t do it? Who was this guy that wasn’t even allowing anybody to catch extremely dangerous criminals?

Kingpin or not, I’m not falling under your thumb. 

You enter your apartment building, walking up the stairs to the next floor when you spot your ‘lovely’ neighbour coming down with a new pep in his step, phone up by his ear.

“-on my way – Yeah – Oh, yeah. It’ll be great.” He talks loudly, nearly plowing you over as you pass.

And when he did something…

Clicked inside you.

You pause on the steps, glancing back as your neighbour starts leaving. You frown and find yourself coming up with an idea that was either the best idea ever…

Or the most treacherous one yet.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Your neighbour and his friends laughed as they flickered their cigarettes off the rooftop, landing somewhere unknown below. It was like three men reliving their teenage years. Which wouldn’t be a bad thing if your neighbour wasn’t such a shitty husband.

“Hey, man, we’re going to get more beers.” One of his friends said as they started backtracking to the door to the bar below.

“Sounds good.” Your neighbour said, lighting another bud.

The door closes, leaving him utterly alone in the dark of the night, basking in the full moon’s light. He takes a long puff from his cigarette, blowing it into the warm air, completely oblivious that you were suddenly behind him like the grim reaper.

“So this is what you do in your free time.” You said, making your voice sound deeper and lower.

He turned around quickly, finding you in head to toe black, only your eyes were exposed. He cocked his head to the side, not even showing any kind of surprise or shock. “Who the hell are you? And how’d you get up here without me hearing?”

“I’ll give you a choice. Turn yourself in or I’ll use force.” 

He scoffs. “For what?”

“For assaulting your wife.”

His face falls before swiftly turning into anger. “What the fuck are you talking about? With what proof?” You stayed silent which got him even more riled up. “Listen, whoever the fuck you are, you need to be on your merry way.”

And as soon as his hand clasped your shoulder you took a swing, which you’ll admit… you’re out of practice; Because before you know it, he’s elbowed you in the stomach before grabbing onto the back of your hoodie, and–

Pushes you off the roof.

His eyes suddenly widened at what he just did, and took a step back from the ‘crime scene’. “Oh, my god…” He covers his mouth. “Oh, my god… I just…” He shakes his head. “No. He attacked me first. This was self defense. They’ll have to believe me, they’ll–”

And then all the color seemed to drain from his body.

You were suddenly in front of him, feet nowhere near the ledge/floor of the roof.

You stare down at him, eyes starting to glow a reddish hue.

He stumbles back on the balls of his feet, trembling under your gaze. “W-W-What a-are you?” He cried, lip quivering. “H-How are you flo–”

You leaped at him before he could finish, tackling him to the ground, straddling his waist before you let loose. The anger you kept in check came undone as you struck him with your fists over, and over, and over, and over again. You struck him until his face was covered in bruises and painted in red; And you didn’t stop until you heard the satisfying crack in his nose. 

You grab him by the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. “If you ever hurt your wife again… I will fucking know.” You hissed through your teeth before knocking him out cold.

And then it was quiet.

Besides your heart was in your ears it was still quiet.

You were panting almost silent as your adrenaline started to cease.

You could feel his blood on your face through your makeshift mask.

You could feel your fingers almost aching for more.

It felt…

Strangely satisfying. 

Oddly.

Greatly.

Satisfying.

And when his friends finally arrived, you were already on the other side of the street, watching in the shadows as they frantically started calling for an ambulance. 

It shouldn’t feel good, but you did. Even as his blood coated your hands like an ointment, it didn’t feel as bad as it should. But you were a detective, a cop, you were supposed to stop the bad guys. Did it matter that you weren’t in uniform this time? Should it matter?

.

.

.

…And should you feel bad?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The sound of someone knocking on your door woke you up early the next morning. You grumbled in your state of exhaustion, wondering if someone from your job was coming to get you. 

Fuckers. Just go away. You tried turning to a new position, shutting your eyes tighter as they knocked again.

And then again.

And again.

And again.

And–

You groaned as you sat up, grabbing your bathrobe off your chair to cover your nude form. “I’m coming!” You announced, before yawning. “This better be good…” You walked up to the peephole, taken back by the fact that no one was actually there. “What?”

You take off the deadbolt and unlock the door, poking your head out into your hallway. 

Nothing. Nobody in sight.

When you were about to call yourself crazy you spotted something on your fuzzy doormat. In surprise, you found yourself staring at a beautifully decorated vase filled with brightly colored, freshly cut red roses.

“Flowers?” You said, bending down to carefully pick it up, examining it. You just wanted to make sure there wasn’t some sort of trap (you had plenty of those in your career).

They seemed normal but the number of them was odd.

Nine.

Nine means that the person who gifted them to you wants to signify eternal love and show that you want to spend the rest of your life with you.

Now that was really stumping you, especially when you spotted a card that was no help at all. On the simple, white, rectangular card was neat cursive handwriting that said:

‘Welcome Back.’

Welcome back? You look around again making absolutely sure that you didn’t miss anything or anyone. You continued to see nothing again.

You found yourself staring at the card again, wondering:

.

.

.

What the hell is going on?

(TBC)

-Taglist Is Open-

@utterlynuts @etanordoesbullsh1t @mattmurdocksstarlight @l3xiluve @lunaticgurly @margoo0 @swift-enchanted @athenniene

@up-in-space-reading @itwasthereaminuteago

[morbidology]

On 28 February, 1997, Larry Phillip Jr. and Emil Mătăsăreanu entered the North Hollywood Bank of America, Los Angeles, California. They were armed with two Norinco Type 56 S rifles that they had converted into fully automatic, a fully automatic Norinco Type 56 S-1, a semi automatic HK-91, a fully automatic Bushmaster (M16) XM15 Dissipator and approximately 3,300 rounds of ammunition.

The two men were also somewhat prepared for the aftermath as they were wearing bulletproof vests and homemade body armor. They also manufactured a bomb and placed it in their car to destroy any evidence. The two men had prepared for this moment, even monitoring police transmission to estimate how long it would take them to arrive to the bank once called.

However, they hadn't prepared for the scenario which unfolded. As they were entering the bank, two LAPD officers spotted them and called for backup. Phillips and Mătăsăreanu forced the patrons and staff to the ground as they ordered the manager to open the safe; they left with $303,305.

Outside, a number of officers had positioned themselves behind their cars with their weapons drawn and facing toward the bank doors. When Phillips and Mătăsăreanu exited with their loot, they engaged in gunfire with the officers, whose arsenal and armor could not compare to that of the bank robbers.

A number of officers and civilians were harmed in the gunfire which lasted approximately eight minutes before Mătăsăreanu jumped into their white sedan in an attempt to make a getaway, urging Phillips to do the same. Instead, Phillips retrieved a HK-91 from the trunk of the car and continued to fire at the surrounding officers.

After suppressing the officers, Phillips made his way to the passenger side of the car but was stopped when a shotgun blast penetrated his wrist. He responded by backing away from the car and ensuing in more gunfire. The SWAT team, who were more prepared, arrived 18 minutes after the initial gunshots.

By now, the tyres of the sedan had been shot out and Mătăsăreanu and Phillips were separated. Phillips continued to fire at authorities and was shot in the hand, causing him to drop the gun. He picked the pistol up and shot himself under the chin; as his body slumped down, he was shot in the back of the neck.

Mătăsăreanu on the other hand, attempted to carjack a car just a few blocks from where Phillips had died. Unable to start the car, Mătăsăreanu took cover and shot at authorities. Noticing his legs were unprotected by armor, authorities shot at him from underneath the car, shooting him over 20 times. Mătăsăreanu died on the ground due to the trauma.

Mătăsăreanu and Phillips had fired approximately 1,100 rounds in what became infamously known as the North Hollywood Shootout. The shootout was aired live on television.

[whatitshouldvebeen]

Gordon Ramsay x Reader Slow Burn Dom/Sub FF

Yes, I'm serious. It has about a million reads on assorted fanfiction websites, so trust me and them when I say you'll love it

Click for the previous chapter

Monday, June 24th, 2013

The other contestants and I gather at the entrance to the airport, waiting inside for further instructions–Monday airport traffic is no joke. Cars line up outside and throngs of people weave their way through each other, toting suitcases. That's not to say the airport lobby of Los Angeles is not stunning; the tall glass windows allow for the beautiful day's sunlight to shine through.

I take this time to examine my competition. There are fifteen other chefs aside from myself that are going to be competing against each other this season–eight men and eight women. Most of them are sitting in the airport lobby chairs, idly chatting to one another. I stand to the side of the chairs, leaning on the handle of my rolling suitcase. Thinking back to past seasons, I wonder which chefs were put here to stir up drama. My wondering is cut short with an uncanny interruption.

A woman with bleached blonde hair, dressed in a low-cut floral top and a short white skirt gathers everyone's attention. Or at least, the attention of the people who weren't already staring at her nearly exposed breasts.

"Oh my GOD can you guys believe it!" She bounces in place, her boobs jiggling, "I'm like, actually here. Of all the applicants I got picked! I can't wait to see which of you makes it to the final five with me."

She pauses, then grins wickedly like the Cheshire cat.

"Should be real easy, my competition doesn't look very... fierce." Her eyes quickly flit about the contestants, stopping on me for what seems to be a second longer than the others.

One of the few to not be at a loss for words is a middle-aged, stout, and bald man who scoffs at her.

"This is Hell's Kitchen, not Keeping Up with the Kardashians. Unless you keep your cooking skill in those tits then I doubt you'll make it to the final five with that self-absorbed attitude. This is a team game."

His voice is commanding, and surprisingly the blonde looks sheepish at being talked down to. By the time that a tall man in a suit approaches us, she hasn't managed to come up with a snarky retort.

"Hell's Kitchen contestants?" He questions the group. After seeing our collective nods he continues. "Please follow me." He turns and walks towards the sliding glass doors, exiting the airport.

Our bustling group happily follow him to a sleek black limousine with the initials "HK" branded on the side parked outside the loading gate. We all look giddily at each other. Excitement buzzes through my body as I lock eyes with the girl next to me, her brown curls bouncing in place as she jitters. We both give a shy grin, recognizing the other's excitement. As we approach the limo, the driver opens the door and lets us inside.

The limo is plush and cozy and there is an icebox with a bottle of champagne situated in the middle. The driver introduces himself as Paul and passes out champagne glasses to all of us before he takes his seat at the front and begins the drive to Hell's Kitchen. A few eyes lock onto the champagne bottle, but no one seems to have the confidence to crack it open.

The girl who had stood next to me earlier slides in next to me with a breathless, "Hey!"

"Hi!" I grin. "I'm (Y/N), and you?"

"Taylor." She returns the smile. She has a string of piercings up her ears, some hoops and some studs. Her hazel eyes shine with joy, the browns nearly matching her light tan skin tone.

"Are you as nervous as me?" I ask, my heartbeat in my ears as we pull up to a red light.

"Totally. This doesn't feel real, I've never been in a competition, much less on TV. I know my bro won't let me live it down if I don't do my best, so I'm trying to ignore my jitters. Can't let nerves interfere with my work." She lets out a puff of air and glances around the limo.

One of the younger men; green-eyed, thin, with messy ruffled brown hair, takes hold of the champagne bottle. "We can't let this go to waste, guys!" He says, opening it swiftly and pouring glasses for everyone with finesse. His winning smile is contagious as he confidently leads us all in a discussion of where we'd come from to get here, and cracks a few jokes. Soon enough all of us are smiling and laughing.

After about thirty minutes of driving the lights of the tinted window limo go out, leaving us in partial darkness. The chatter dies down and everyone looks around confused. A small TV flips open above the window between the driver and us contestants. On that TV is none other than Chef Ramsay, wearing his striking white head chef jacket with his arms crossed over his chest in his signature pose.

"Good afternoon, Hell's Kitchen contestants! I hope you all are enjoying yourselves on your trip to Hell, because things are about to get a lot less luxurious. As soon as you arrive, I expect you to hop in the kitchen and begin work on THE signature dish of yours that you are," he adamantly shakes his fist, "MOST proud of." The passion in his eyes burns in a way that can be felt through the screen. All of us are silent, at rapt attention. I feel my heart flutter at how fervently he encourages us. If he's anything like this in person, it'll be easy to be motivated by his words alone.

"You have forty-five minutes from the moment you arrive to complete your signature dish. The red and blue team will be competing, so be sure your dish impresses if you want your team to win. I will meet you all as soon as you've finished. Good luck, contestants." He turns his back to us as the screen folds up and the lights turn back on.

We are silent for a few seconds when the woman sitting next to the screen says, "Gee, he sure is intimidating."

She is so small that–when squished into a stretch limo with fifteen other people–she may as well get lost in the cushions. Her curly red hair frames her pale white face, and she has freckles across her nose that stand out when her skin drains of color, as it is now.

The man to her left, somewhat built, brown-eyed and black-haired with a buzz cut wraps his muscled arm around her shoulder, rapidly bringing color to her cheeks.

"Chin up Red!" He exclaims. "Ya wanna be brave when you talk to Ramsay. Even if you're scared, don't show 'em that ya are."

She nods delicately, curling her shoulders in to avoid touching his arm as much as possible. He doesn't seem to notice and leaves it around her for the duration of the ride.

[wlwcatalogue]

Screening Announcement! (Dec 10th & 17th, 2023)

Update as of 6 Dec 2023: There are still decent seats left for the 6pm & 9pm showings on Dec 10th, and for all four screenings on Dec 17th!

If anyone here will be in Hong Kong this December 10th or 17th (both Sundays), and has even a passing interest in Yam Kim Fai and Pak Suet Sin (see my post on them here), queerness in East Asia and/or the 1950’s, or Chinese opera, I strongly urge you to go to one of the eight screenings of the restored version of Butterfly and Red Pear Blossom (蝶影紅梨記)!

Not only is it a great romantic comedy (yes, really), it’s also a very rare opportunity to see a classic Cantonese opera movie – or indeed any black and white Hong Kong movie – with English subtitles and in 4K resolution. For a taster, check out this excellent dance scene (not 4K) and this video from the Hong Kong Film Archive about their restoration efforts!

On top of that, it’ll be showing in the cinema of the storied Sunbeam Theatre (新光戲院), which opened in 1972 and is Hong Kong’s last commercial Cantonese opera theatre. (It must be added that being able to go there will soon become an even rarer opportunity; the venue will sadly be closing in 2025 as heritage is apparently a joke in Hong Kong.)

Here's a quick outline of the story for those who need a bit more convincing:

Penned by the Shakespeare of Cantonese opera, Tong Tik Sang (唐滌生), this retelling of Yuan-dynasty opera Tale of Red Pear Flower (謝金蓮詩酒紅梨花) starts off fairly sober - courtesan So-chau (Pak Suet Sin) and scholar Chiu Yu-chau (Yam Kim Fai) are long-distance lovers, but before they are able to meet in person for the first time, So-chau is forced to fake her death to avoid being sent off to a barbarian warlord. But then it morphs into an unexpected romantic comedy: in her escape, So-chau ends up at a relative’s house… only to find that Chiu will be moving in as a guest there that very night. Unfortunately for her, she’s been forbidden by her uncle from disclosing her identity for fear of disrupting Chiu’s studies, and Chiu is extraordinarily – albeit adorably – dumb. Apart from the two leads being played by women, it’s really easy to read queer themes into how So-chau is desperate with longing and yet unable to directly articulate her desires and identity, permitted only to hint and nudge. (As is the movie as a whole in some ways, since Hong Kong movies of that era were very prudish; even heterosexual kisses weren’t allowed onscreen.) Chiu, kind-hearted but oblivious, echoes the familiar figure of the queer crush. Also, Pak plays So-chau with the thirstiness of a marathon runner who hasn’t had a drop of water since the start of the race, so there’s that to enjoy too :)

Tickets are available on the Cityline website for HK$70 each (linked here – change the language to English by clicking “Eng” in the menu); note that you’ll need to make an account to make a purchase. Dec 10th and Dec 17th will both have four screenings each (12pm, 3pm, 6pm, and 9pm), but seating is very limited so you should definitely buy your ticket sooner rather than later!

[snowmaze1969]

some bug backstory and age h/c

Some timeline things: before the infection is obvi before the infection, after sesling is once hk gets sealed along with the dreamers and pk dissappears, height infection is when the infection gets worse, after the first wave of the infection appearing, right before the game is when things kinda settle down and the infection is still there and very deadly but everyone who's still alive knows what there doing, quarrel arrives during this time. During the game is obvi during the game and post game is post game, 8ll specify after what endings. Also just one note, I have no fucking clue the lifespan, aging, and time if the timeline so any year time span will just be the human equvilant cause I don't have the bainpower to figure that shit out lmao.

Myla: she was born during the peak of the infection. He dad was a miner and knew the ups and down of the peaks he was pretty hardy and knew what he was doing. Her mother was actually pretty weak and just happened to stumble upon mylas dad. If she hadn't found him, she would be dead. They dell in love and had a child (Myla). Mylas mother died after a year or two and Mylas father, heartbroken, raised Myla on his own. Mylas father succumbed to the infection after Mayla was around 13. Before he died, he showed Myla around the peaks so she knows them inside and out. Myla made a living for herself and died during the game (obvi) at around age 21.

Quirrel (my fave 🥺🥲💖):he was born during the prime of hallownest, right before the first wave of infection hit and the dreamers were sealed. His parents were really nondescript and lived vanilla lives I liked the idea of Quirrel training to be a knight in the cot before becoming monomons apprentice so I'm adopting that into my own personal hc (yeah the is from sbabl) I like to think he started knight training really young to bring some extra money in and then first started working at the archives at age 20. Times kipper but after the dreamers were sealed, Quirrel stayed around the archives a bit before leaving. Monomons last wishes said the Quirrel would become the head Archavist so once she was gone, Quirrel helped all the other scholars clear out before he was lonely for a while and then left hallonest right before height infection. Quirrel returns right before the game and then dies during the game. I'm just gonna say that I have no idea how much time passed between the sealing and the game so uh. Time magic and also Quirrels old lol.

Lemm: He was born right before the sealing to also nondescript parents. They ran and combine relecs and tea shop the Lemm helped run. His parents died during the first wave so he ran the shop at age 24. He would sell stuff to travelers and buy there spoils to help them out. Lemm is a grumpy man by the game. (Sorry I don't have much for him)

Hornet: Hornet was born when Herah was like yeah, in exchange for being a dreamer we get to fuck around to pk. Because of some God shit, Hornet is born like 3 months later (hatched). Both Herrah and pk raise Hornet but they live separately. The White Lady honestly doesn't care that they fucked because God's have weird ideas about monogamy/polyamoury. Hornet grew up along with hk and then when the dreamers were sealed she was holed up in deepness but eventually everyone died/got infected Hornet taught herself how to fight and headed out right after peak infection. I like to think the Herrah had the needle commissioned before she was sealed and gave it to the midwife to give to Hornet when the time was right. The Midwife gave it to Hornet eight before she died,and asked Hornet to cut down her infected husk with that very blade. She does and then leaves. Hornet then kinda meanders around getting good until the game.

Cloth: I don't have much on her cause honestly I have no idea even what kinda bug she is but she definitely migrated to hallownest after the peak of the infection and thought he'll yeah. I get to fight things! And then just stuck around

Tiso:grew up in an ant clony but longed for something more. Growing up with stories of Hallownest and the Coloseum he set out not realizing what had become of the kingdom and its glory.

Anyway, those are the ones I have rn, I'm tired and my fingers hurt cause I typed this out on my phone so sorry if there's any spelling mistakes. Let me know if there's any others you wanna see and I'll probably add on with my vessel oc that still doesn't have a name.

[askagamedev]

You talked about how making system with an edge case/additional functionality (namely the boss’ elite units acting as a unit with cover fire/focused targeting). Can you explain why it is harder/more time consuming to add unanticipated functionality in later?

I'll use a different example to answer your question today. There's a well-known long-running MMORPG called Star Wars: The Old Republic that was famous for its companion characters as a major game feature.

The way that the companion system was built for launch was designed around every class having an equal number of companions within the data. Companions at launch were mapped by class - every player class had six different companions, each with a set role (melee tank, ranged tank, melee DPS, ranged DPS, healer, ship droid) in a specific numbered slot. In all of the code systems that had anything to do with companions, the code wouldn't ask for a specific companion by ID number, but rather by the player's class and companion slot number. The system was built such that companion lookup could not be sparse (that is, you couldn't have empty companion slots for any class), or systems like companion affection, equipment, companion stats and stat scaling, many parts of combat, companion UI, certain cinematics, etc. would fail in a cascade. Every class had to have the same number of companions or all kinds of game systems would break. This also meant that there wasn't just two different faction ship droids, there were eight (a different one for each class).

It was when the game designers added the first and second additional companions to the original roster that they ran into the wall. They couldn't add just one companion - they had to add eight companions - a different version of the new companion for each class. The costs were so great that the leadership deemed it too expensive to build new companions after the first two (HK-51 and Treek). It also meant that there was no way that they could reuse existing companions for other classes - the Sith Warrior couldn't ever recruit a companion character that was designed for the Imperial Agent, because it wouldn't be the same companion, it'd have to be a separate instance of that old companion data. New companion characters were one of the most highly requested and popular features among players, but actually adding them to the game was a nightmare in terms of the amount of work that needed to be done and complexity of data (since design quailed at the thought of having to keep track of up to eight different versions of every new companion added to the game). This problem was a continuous thorn in the side of the leadership too because they knew this could open up massive new opportunities - faction reward companions, microtransaction companions, temporary companions that could actually die as part of the story, different versions of companions, etc. - but could not feasibly do anything about it due to the development cost of having to rebuild the entire system.

Eventually, circumstances granted the SWTOR team additional headcount for a year and the leadership wisely tasked a strike team of engineers and designers for nearly the entire expansion cycle to rebuild the companion system from the ground up in order to decouple the player classes from their static companion slots. For the first time, designers could set a list of player classes that the companion could be recruited by without needing to create a duplicate of that companion's data for each class. All classes could share the same companion's data, which meant that classes could recruit each others' companions, and that new companions were much, much easier to add to the game. Design would no longer need to create eight different versions of the same companion anymore.

As you may have surmised, the reason that it was so expensive to add unanticipated functionality in later is because a lot of other critical systems were built upon the assumptions made during that initial implementation. Changing the underlying system meant that all of the other systems built on top of it would either fail spectacularly, or would also need to be rebuilt to work with the new hotness. These game systems do not exist in a vacuum - there are often shockwaves that affect other secondary systems which can set off their own shockwaves to affect tertiary systems, and so on. It isn't always as huge an issue as SWTOR's companion system, but it is a really good example of bad assumptions made during initial development haunting the team for years after launch.

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[rhyme-thinks-stuff]

3 panel colorings of Marcille in distress!

palette: Eight Hues of Toxic Ooze

I decided to color these panels partially because I thought rendering would be fun, and partially because I found this palette with a really fitting name! (and also i just thought they looked cool)

Palette: HK- Pillbug Beach Party

This might not be "distress" exactly but it fits the theme well enough. I like the feel of this palette, and it was inspired by one of my favorite games, Hollow Knight! Palette maker, you have excellent taste.

Palette: I believe we're going to make it

I got this palette from the tumblr blog @color-palettes, instead of lospec.com like usual. this made it a bit trickier to track down to credit, since the name wasn't saved on the image I downloaded. in the future I'll try and make sure to save the posts somewhere easier for me to find later when I download the palettes

[peridots-pixiwolf]

so. wait of the world update. how we feeling about that.

[hotpinknstabby]

day 72 of making my own hk tarot deck until silksong is released

eight of vessels

[ostebee]

I love HK so much because even if you think you understand everything and find everything there's something entirely new. New realisation, new thought, new topic to discuss, new impression, new groundbreaking discovery and you want to return to it over and over again. It's definitely my game of a year despite the fact that it was released eight years ago. It's not just a game, it's a whole world, dammit. Carefully created one and weaved out of so many strings that you can't imagine.

That's what am I expecting from silksong. No matter how long it will take, I'm going to enjoy every single corner and every single lore point. I hope that there will be even more realisations, thoughts, topics to discuss, impressions, groundbreaking discoveries and will to share Hornet's adventure with her once again.