#god the corrosion is what never ends

[nickywhoisi]

Hi again everyone. I have returned, maybe just momentarily, to let you know where I’ve been.

I took a lot of time off for myself to have a “redo” of my life. How this went was that, from Aug 20, I finally felt like I was free, moreso than I had in my life, and that was the best starting point for me to choose that year as 1993, my birth year. I have, through all of this time including now, realize that I have ultimately been battling a giant war against life for the sake of keeping pure and keeping corrosion out. And I mean NIGHTMARISH LEVELS OF CORROSION. It’s so hard for me to put those exact experiences into a perfect pure-feeling term, but basically it’s been like that for a shockingly long time...and one of the things that was so corroded was my own past and childhood. I desired to have a “reset” wherein I got to control life and my timespan for a while, and devote it entirely to the keepsakes I have from those times. I was beginning again, starting over with my life just how I wanted, and I let myself be a little baby for a while, then transition each day to adolescence, teenhood and then adulthood. It was all finally at my own pace. Though even then, the rare times I had to step outside meant that it had to be the current year again for a while, and I still ran across what I now know to be corrosion confrontations, which were sometimes so bad, I had to switch a year, and let it pass until the next day where I would redo it as well. I’m just glad that this plan worked out and it all fit into september before the last few days of the month.

There was also two giantly damaging events that occurred on the 26th...a certain governmental event I couldn’t afford to miss and was getting so stressed about (because I haven’t been feeling more than I can handle of that), and this resulted in me believing I needed to protect my most precious keepsakes, among which, my art and my videogame collection. This was from MY ENTIRE LIFESPAN, including my reset! And all I did was park somewhere where I thought it was going to be safe and untouched. But it so happened to be a kindergarten with apparently a private parking rule that I didn’t know about (and sadly, that part of the corrosive error is on me because I didn’t think to take some time to ask if it was okay, I was just too worried about being on time (additionally, I am aggravated that if I were not left in such a precarious situation, I would not have been so stressed out and thus careless about where I parked!)), and by the time I had a free moment to think about it, I checked on what was going on with my chosen parking space...and I got the shocking news that this asian prick decided, also at the fault of the police ordering him to, to THROW OUT MY THINGS WITHOUT ONCE WAITING FOR ME TO BE PRESENT TO EXPLAIN MYSELF. I had to run out of breath to that place, only to be confronted by the guy who did the deed AND look at the abject horror and misery that my two makings; my very history of being alive, my two greatest and purest of life’s passions...were thrown into a giant garbage bin without an iota of care. Not even an understanding that these items were covered in MY NAME, showing it defacto belonged to me, and nobody had the right to make the decisions they did. And what was all the worse was that I had every right to be livid at the guy and chew him out for what corrosive display he wrought on my HISTORY, MY PROOF OF BEING ALIVE ON THIS HELL ROCK, but he seriously thought he had any right to bombard me with angry accusatory words and ideas, as if he was openly victim blaming me for something I could barely pay attention to over the sound of my own crippling depression...how could I not continuously explode when I had to cry while rifling through the garbage and make sure that I rescued all of my poor keepsakes that I NEVER ONCE WANTED OR WAS PREPARED TO SEE AMONGST GARBAGE WHERE NONE OF IT BELONGS, all the while having my suicidal levels of stress upset and discomfort pressured even more by this unfeeling demon ch*** who never had a shred of shame for what he did saying the most useless, unhelpful and distressing things, likely on purpose, which naturally made me want to swipe at him with a cardboard box lid JUST TO GET HIM TO SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME IN PEACE. But that is when he said the worst thing; you stop or I call the police. I was screaming myself hoarse, wailing in such impossible misery, all because he refused to stop causing coarse corrosive stress towards me, and he was actually de-existing me. What de-existing me means, is that he was actively trying to delegitimize EVERYTHING that was happening to me right there. His profound offenses horrified me as these would never stop coming from him. I feel that this is the type of homonid,,,this inhuman thing, this “flesh homunculus”...is the very thing that I will have to kill one day in order for such corrosions in life to permanently stop, as I want. I got all of my posessions back, but it can’t feel like a true victory until I see this creature gone, and all like it. Please don’t worry about what this means. It just basically means I’ve figured out how to get rid of the things weighing down on my mind for good.

Sadly, just another one of these things bled it’s way into ruining another event that was supposed to remain pure. Some user who I don’t know at all made a heinous reply about me being “such a manchild” over a post subject that I had done nothing more than say my piece on, state that I would not accept anyone trying to @ me over having what just seemed to be different from the crowd opinion, and leave it at that. I learned that on some monday, around the time I left to give myself that long-needed break, I was entirely treated like trash, only fueling yet more of what I have lately been feeling...rather, I should say I’ve been collapsing under the weight of. I already feel bad enough that there are sociopaths like this on the world who troll and are so good at trolling that I do feel very defaced and wounded by. What hurts me even worse than that though, is the timing in which this happened. The one precise moment where all that has happened is processed, or as well as it can, that nothing else is going on, and I thought I had a free chance to muster up the courage and retry from where I left off. I gave this place just one more chance, or at least see how all of my friends are doing, only to see there is proof that people on tumblr, or perhaps tumblr itself, is no longer the place I thought I could have to be safe and I am surrounded by corroded sorts who don’t want me here, as a poor damaged person on the side of purity. I was about to say that I’m a pure person, but that would not be so true. I just want to be good and clear in my soul, and the corrosions of all life, from sirens and sickening-acting people in real life, the fact that real life has so much badness going on that it’s all become besmirched, to here online where corrosion and policing seem to have concaved everything to the point where nowhere is good and pure enough to promise the level of safety and comfort that I need most. Even Gaia online, another legacy site that I frequented from my life’s history as well, suddenly proved on the 25th that it apparently hated me for having a pure connection with it and for some reason hates me for not wanting to support it’s bad practises with money. Apparently they really are the scum who did not pay or support their artists the way they should, and it shows now in the latest “game” they have going on now.

So it’s a real damn shame, but I have to maybe...just never come back here. Ever again. Not seriously anyway. I wanted to do so much more here though. I wanted to be able to be like all of you, my friends, and you amazing artists in the choo choo groop, or the ttte/rws fandom for those unfamiliar. And be like VoiceBoss/Coco, and all of the other cool batman fandom artists too. Just happily posting my art, getting to know everyone, never having anything bad happen that would lead to a confrontation. But someone who bypassed the way I was trying so hard to curate my experiences here made me face the fact that I need a place where not just anyone is able to throw me out of a good thing, by any means. So I must look elsewhere, as I said, for a truly safe, quiet bubble to call my own and to get every ounce of relief and healing relaxation that has been so unreasonably denied of me. This sucks royal.

I believe the last things I might want to take care of is reblogging everything I have in my likes, catching up with my pals, letting y’all know about stuff, having one last farewell party to this blog, and...if I can manage it, I may only post my art/links to where I will be posting art from now on. Cause the last thing I want to do is promise good things I’d share, and then never make do. I’m not perpetuating that cycle of abuse after being a victim of it, no fucking way gang

https://www.pixiv.net/en/users/86557536

[wolfiesmoon]

Shaky hands

Twisted wonderland x gn!reader

my hands are very shaky, especially when i get nervous or uncomfortable and since i often get embarrased and inconvenienced by them why not have someone comfort me for that instead ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅Malleus Draconia

Malleus just assumes you're scared of him like the rest and are pretending to stay calm.

I mean, if your hands shake so much when around him, that must be what it is. That is a clear-cut sign of fear, after all.

He doesn't mind it, but he doesn't get why you keep insisting to hang out with him then.

But you, on the other hand, like Malleus. Like like him. And it just so happens that your hands become ten times more shaky around your crush. You try to cover it up by fiddling with them and keeping them distracted but it's still obvious a lot of the time.

"Are you scared of him?" Lilia asks you, tone still calm and casual.

"Ah, no... You've got it all wrong..." you denied, cheeks heating a little.

It should be fine to tell Lilia, right? He might be a tiny little bit cunning but you doubt that he'd take this information to his advantage and blackmail you or something. He wouldn't do you like that.

"I, ummm... like him." You hid your hands behind your back to hide your obvious nervousness.

"Oh my. I never expected to hear this in a thousand years." Lilia's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't seem upset or like he was going to take advantage of you. Just pleasantly surprised.

"Just how much do you doubt Malleus...?" Lilia laughed at your comment.

"Depends on what field we're talking about. You should make a move. Who knows what might happen."

So here you are, walking next to Malleus, about to do something bold. Which happens to be gently holding his hand.

Listen, that's bold in Malleus standards.

You try to calm your hands down but nothing works so you just give up and go for it, gently taking his very still hand into your shaking one.

His hands are surprisingly warm.

"Why are you holding onto me?" He asks a bit coldly and a slight shiver runs through you. You're still not used to his cold, blunt way of speaking sometimes.

"I, ummm... how do I explain this... this is supposed to be... You know what? Do you mind it?" You just realised he might not like the feeling.

"It's strange but not particularly unwelcome. Are you not scared?" He asks, making you tilt your head. Scared of what?

"Your hands keep shaking."

"O-Oh, about that... don't worry about it. They always do." You gave him a somewhat awkward smile. He always seems to glance at your hands when you're together. So he must have been looking at that.

"Oh, I see." He replies simply.

Somehow, he feels a little relieved that you aren't afraid of him too.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅Leona Kingscholar

You narrowly avoided getting a corrosive potion spilled on you just 10 minutes ago, and your hands are still shaking from the adrenaline.

Oh my god, why does this school insist on giving you a new heart attack every day? When it isn't Grim, Deuce and Ace causing trouble it's narrowly avoiding being melted by a potion.

You don't know why, but you ended up in the garden where Leona sometimes falls asleep. Your legs just kind of took you there.

He was already awake when you found him.

"Why are you here? I thought you actually cared about class, or something." He yawned.

"I actually.... don't really know."  You looked off at some of the plants, too awkward to look him in the eye.

"What happened?" He asked all of a sudden. You must still look scared and shaken up.

"Ummm, a dangerous potion almost spilled all over me." You explained, twiddling your fingers to make your hands look less shaky.

He sighed. "If that's all, then stop shaking like a leaf." He sounded annoyed, but you doubt that he actually was. He almost seemed relieved.

"It's not that easy, genius." You shot back, furrowing your brows.

Suddenly he grabbed both of your arms, clasping them together in his own. "There. Problem solved." You had no idea if he held your hands on purpose or if that's just his simple solution to prevent shaky hands.

The slight blush on his cheeks would compel you to think it's the former.

Actually, you're not sure if you want to know the answer. What in the world would you do if a prince fell in love with you? It's a children's story book you don't even want to begin to imagine right now, as tempting as it is.

"Hey, Leona! I brought you your- Ooooh!~"

You tried pulling your hands away but Leona's grasp was too tight. He could have easily let go of your hands and pretended nothing's happened, but he didn't. Okay, now this is really weird.

"Since when are you into herbivores?" Ruggie smirked.

"Shut up, Ruggie."

Ruggie looked to you, looking for a possible explanation from you instead.

"No comment." you avoided eye contact.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅Riddle Rosehearts

You looked really nervous and scared to Riddle at that moment. And you really were.

You have a really important test in 15 minutes and your hands can't seem to calm down. You're already getting frustrated at them, attempting to stabilize them against a surface or taking deep breaths, but alas, nothing works.

"You seem to be troubled." He mentioned, glancing down at your hands.

"Oooh, it's really obvious, isn't it...?" You sighed. This is way too embarrasing.

"It's quite alright, I get how you feel." Riddle's tone became a little quieter and more gentle and he sat down next to you.

"Can you distract me for a bit? I mean, if you aren't too busy with dorm stuff." You fiddled with your fingers, hoping he would say yes.

Riddle is strangely calm around you. When you're with Ace, Grim and Deuce he's his usual uptight dorm leader self but when the two of you are alone that tone fades away.

How strange.

"Are you listening?" Riddle snaps you out of it, furrowing his brows.

"Sorry, could you repeat that?" You scratched the back of your head clumsily.

"You're always lost in thought. You should get rid of that habit. And it's rude to not listen to the other person when they speak." He scolds you. Sometimes he worries that you do that in class, too.

"Right..." you clenched your shirt, hand still shaking a little.

"This clearly isn't going to work. Let's revise one last time together." He clapped his hands, waiting for you to take out your notebook.

"Are you sure you have the time to be doing this?" You asked, now really worried that you're keeping him from something important he should be doing.

"It's shameful of me, truly." Riddle sighed, not explaining what he meant any further and leaning the notebook towards you so you can revise.

Somehow, he's willing to ignore his house warden duties to help you calm down. He wants to be concerned by that, but how can he leave you alone when you look so worried?

I swear i intended to write for someone new this time😭 oh well maybe next time

[crownmemes]

Pretentious & Poetic Sentences, Vol. 7

(Pretentious sentences from various sources for muses that like to speak in grandiose sentences. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"When blood has been spilt, soon rivers run red."

"Poison may lurk in the most innocuous of vessels."

"The search for meaning is not always about the answer. It's also the process of seeking that enlightens."

"Gods made wine to compensate those who cannot afford revenge."

"For a god to be effective, you have to be intermittently wrathful."

"I think human consciousness was a tragic mistake in evolution."

"Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night."

"There's a storm coming. The wins of change are howling, and when they strike, we will ascent from the rubble."

"I can see your soul at the edges of your eyes. It's corrosive, like acid."

"I know this is not the life you would have chosen, but it is the life that chose you."

"An entire galaxy can pivot around the actions of an individual."

"Stories become burdens if left untold."

"Did you think you could just go on and never once have to look back?"

"Self-denial is a great sweetener of pleasure."

"A wisp of knowledge can be an infinitely slippery slope."

"The lone wolf belongs to the wilderness."

"If you insist on living a dream, you may be taken for mad."

"Not everyone who looks like a hero is a hero, and not everyone who looks like a monster is a monster."

"I sense a retreat into studied superiority and neutered emotions."

"Did you confuse compulsion for freedom?"

"I knew a man once who said that death smiles at us all. All that you can do is smile back."

"Is your conscience heavy? Do you have guilt in your heart for doing what you had to?"

"History remembers the battle and forgets the blood."

"I am proud of you. Proud that your obedience is absolute."

"You ever been in some place you couldn't leave but you couldn't stay, both at the same time?"

"Construction arises out of the ashes of destruction."

"Our lives are the sum of our choices, and we cannot escape the past."

"Art is simply politics' sweeter tongue."

"Sucking the marrow out of life doesn't mean choking on the bone."

"Nobody has a destiny. We're all just stumbling around in the dark."

"The question is not yet settled as to whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence."

"You're a collection of impeccable, elaborate masks in orbit of a stunted heart."

"What if the ending isn't really the ending after all?"

[momentsbeforemass]

The “ests”

We live in a society that exalts the “ests.”

The biggest, the fastest, the tallest, the richest. Whatever the benchmark is, we want nothing but the best.

It’s a fixation that causes a lot of problems for us.

Not because there’s anything wrong with being able to spot the best. Knowing the difference between a ripe apple (the best) and one that’s gone bad is kind of important.

The problem comes when our fixation with “ests” crosses categories. When we decide that apples are better than oranges.

Comparing apples to oranges is so obviously faulty that it’s a cliché. In at least 20 different languages.

Yet, you and I do it all the time. Not with apples and oranges. But we do it to ourselves and to others – when it comes to roles and worth.

We value the CEO over the janitor, the doctor over the nurse. You and I decide which person is best, based on the importance we attach to what they do. Confusing their role for their worth as a person.

It sounds awful when you say it that way. But it’s so engrained in us that we do it anyway. Usually without thinking.

When we do it to others, it’s corrosive. We see people as things – and we make them into idols to worship or into non-persons we can abuse or ignore.

When we do it to ourselves, it’s corrosive as well. It puts us on a never-ending treadmill of not good enough. Because no matter who we are or what we’re doing, there’s always more. There’s always better. There’s always an “est” that’s just out of reach.

No matter who you and I do it to, it’s a toxic way to live.

And it couldn’t be farther from the truth, from how God sees things.

Think about it for a minute, you and I know from experience that a person’s role and person’s worth have no connection at all.

One of the wealthiest persons I have ever known (CEO, director on several corporate boards, etc.) is also one of the worst human beings I have ever met.

One of the kindest persons I have ever known lived in a cinder block house with a dirt floor (in Alexander County, Illinois).

In today’s first reading, St. Paul spells it out. There’s a list of roles that reads like the organizational chart for a church: “first, Apostles; second, prophets; third, …” making it easy to fall into our habit of comparing the wrong things.

But the context that he gives for that list? That draws us right back to the truth, back to the way that God sees things.

“As the body is one though it has many parts, an all the parts of the body, though many, are one body, so also in Christ.”

Translation – God’s love isn’t just for the “ests.”

Whether you’re looking at someone else or yourself, never confuse role with worth. God doesn’t.

Today’s Readings

[80s-music-tourney]

Polls list for the 80's music tourney

Round One

1. Walk This Way vs. Maniac

2. In The Air Tonight vs. Private Dancer

3. How Soon Is Now? vs. Never Ending Story

4. Just Like Heaven vs. Never Gonna Give You Up

5. Birthday vs. Holy Diver

6. With Or Without You vs. Fuck Tha Police

7. Karma Chameleon vs. Radio Ga Ga

8. Gold vs. Falling

9. Dancing In The Dark vs. Just A Friend

10. You Got It (The Right Stuff) vs. Ashes To Ashes

11. Eighties vs. Dear God

12. Hungry Like The Wolf vs. Jump

13. Love is a Battlefield vs. Once In A Lifetime

14. Rock The Casbah vs. Fast Car

15. Take On Me vs. You Spin Me Round (Like A Record)

16. 99 Luftballons vs. Nasty

17. Under The Milky Way vs. Ghost Town

18. Invisible Touch vs. One

19. Ghostbusters vs. Cloudbusting

20. John The Fisherman vs. Livin on a Prayer

21. Eye Of The Tiger vs. Head Like A Hole

22. You’re The Voice vs. Ace of Spades

23. Come On Eileen vs. Wrathchild

24. Beat It vs. Chariots of Fire

25. Walk Like An Egyptian vs. Personal Jesus

26. Money For Nothing vs. It’s The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)

27. We Didn’t Start The Fire vs. Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of These)

28. Never Tear Us Apart vs. Back In Black

29. Paradise City vs. Dead Man’s Party

30. Fight For Your Right vs. Whip It

31. Who Can It Be Now? Vs. Rebel Yell

32. Smooth Operator vs. Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go

33. Free Fallin’ vs Sledgehammer

34. Blue Monday vs. Blister In The Sun

35. Mickey vs. Everybody Wants To Rule The World

36. Call Me vs. Don’t You Want Me

37. Holding Out For A Hero vs. I Wanna Dance With Somebody

38. Can I Kick It? vs. Peace Sells

39. Raspberry Beret vs. Where Is My Mind?

40. Breaking The Law vs. Kickstart My Heart

41. I Melt With You vs. Epic

42. The Killing Moon vs. Cities In Dust

43. Teen Age Riot vs. Pour Some Sugar On Me

44. Girls Just Wanna Have Fun vs. Raining Blood

45. Don’t You (Forget About Me) vs. Push It

46. We Built This City vs. Relax

47. I Wanna Be Adored vs. Kokomo

48. Libertango (I've Seen That Face Before) vs. Dare To Be Stupid

49. Hip To Be Square vs. Every Breath You Take

50. Africa vs. Love Shack

51. Faith vs. Plastic Love

52. The Look vs. Self-Control

53. It’s Raining Men vs. Flashdance…What A Feeling

54. 9 To 5 vs. She Drives Me Crazy

55. This Corrosion vs. Nazi Punks Fuck Off

56. Valerie vs. Our House

57. Owner of A Lonely Heart vs. Heaven Is A Place On Earth

58. Like A Virgin vs. I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)

59. Ahora Te Puedes Marchar vs. I’m Coming Out

60. Out Of Touch vs. Sunglasses At Night

61. West End Girls vs. Every Little Step

62. Scarface vs. Simply Irresistible

Bonus Round 1

Bonus Round 2

[fuckyeahaudiodrama]

✨APRIL/MAY LISTENS✨

hi i’m back, i’ve just finished my degree and do not have enough of a brain to write an in-depth of anything. but! here’s some of what i’ve been shoving in my earholes for the past month, in no particular order.

The Magnus Protocol — (season 1 ongoing) continues to blow my fucking mind. the sound design/music combo for this series is of particular note, it really just… mwah. elevates the text so much for me. i also continue to be impressed by how well this works as both a standalone series and as a delicious trail of candy for those of us who loved Archives. we’re halfway through s1 now and all i can think about is alice dyer.

Beef and Dairy Network — (ongoing @ 109 eps) a partially improvised absurdist comedy pod set in a world that is bizarrely obsessed with beef. my qpp listened to one episode and called it “distilled british humor” which feels… correct. i’ll be real, i’m actually mad at myself for not getting into this one sooner, but on the other hand having a long binge of it has been divine. i would kill to go to one of their live shows.

The White Vault — (5 seasons, 10 eps apiece) not including goshawk because i’ve barely started on that. but the main series… woah! god, i totally didn’t think this was going to be my thing but i could not put it down? the first season is definitely slower than i usually prefer but the characters kept me hooked and by season 3 the narrative completely took over my brain. i also love how well they sold the found audio format, it WORKS. gold fucking star, highly recommend.

Jackie the Ripper — (3 seasons, 5 eps apiece) put this one aside for a rainy day and binged it all at once. deeply wish there was more of it. it’s a raunchy crime drama with a downtrodden detective at the helm who i SWORE i wouldn’t root for but ended up doing so anyway. do recommend! if it sweetens the pot, the protag has the same VA as watson in the currently popular Sherlock & Co.

The Mistholme Museum — (6 seasons, soon to be complete) people have been recommending this to me for years and i just never got around to it, but on the bright side — it was an incredible binge. anthologies aren’t my strong suit but i found the framing device really strong and, crucially, it develops a meta plot that balances really well. biggest strength for me was the narrator, but i can’t explain why without spoiling some key plot developments. just trust me.

Wake of Corrosion — (4 seasons, final ongoing) very cool apocalyptic suspense/horror. i initially loved this show for the dynamic between the two leads, who are brothers trying to reconnect on a solitary camping trip when the world decides to go wonky. i ended up loving the worldbuilding as well. final episode drops very soon.

Neon Inkwell: The Pit Below Paradise — (miniseries, ongoing) this one has a bit of a western vibe and heavy religious/culty overtones, which isn’t my favorite genre. but i think each of the main characters has been developed really well thus far. + many fun cameos from members of the production team, those are really fun to try and spot :)

Twits: A Steampunk Distraction — (2 seasons, 5 eps apiece) very silly comedy of errors from the pov of a bumbling aristocrat. can’t say too much without giving the end of s1 twist away. i highly recommend it if you’re looking for some lighthearted listening. the ending credits are also very cute.

Planet Arcana — (ongoing @ 71 eps) i’m so bad at TTRPGs but this one has such a unique setting, i’m just captivated. tarot-flavored sci-fi adventure for anyone interested. i’ve made it through the first arc and the party has already experienced a crazy amount of development; stoked to see what happens next.

Selene — (ongoing) anthology about a spooky little town with a vintage vibe. single narrator, quite talented. i’m not always easily invested in anthologies but the narrator here really sells it for me, and (!) i think he writes children — both their thought processes and dialogue — very realistically. which is my grandest compliment.

Camp Here & There — (s1 complete @ 33 eps, hiatus?) i put off listening to this for a rainy day because i’d heard nothing but rave reviews and they weren’t lying. this is quite literally the ONLY pod i’ve come across that completely captures the same magic that WTNV did for me on first listen. the creator is kinda going thru it so idk if s2 is going to happen but i really hope so. even if not, s1 is very worth listening to. it’s wacky and sinister and i just love the narrator, it’s hard not to.

We’re Alive: Scout’s Honor — (8 ep miniseries, complete) imagine WA from the perspective of some awkward tweenagers. what’s not to love? the gore is really heightened by each characters’ stage of emotional development. i especially loved the conclusion but i won’t spoil it here ;)

Among the Stars and Bones — (2nd season ongoing) sci-fi drama with a solid first season, really nice narrative tie-up, but the second season was SUCH a glow-up nonetheless! + the most memorable karim kronfli performance of all time IMHO.

[youremyheaven]

this might be a kinda niche observation but i have noticed women who are venusian plus saturnian are Not very nice 😭 i know two women who's entire chart is basically 50/50 venusian naks and saturn naks and one thing i've noticed they both do is try to remix traditional gender roles into some sort of female empowerment thing

for example, one of them is constantly going on dates with older rich men which by itself is like fine whatever but she tries to act like she's this genius feminist for doing it. like no babe.... you're still conforming to gender roles by essentially selling yourself to rich men to eventually become their spoiled housewife, if anything she's putting a capitalistic spin on it. i think this is because of the saturnian urge to conform to traditions meshing with the venusian urge to date lots and surround yourself with money and beauty

the second girl is obsessed with traditional beauty standards for im assuming the same reason. she literally often says things like "i love entering a room and knowing i'm the prettiest one there" and "walking down the street watching people gawk because i'm the most beautiful one here". it's so cringe and low vibrational, not to mention misogynistic yet just like the other girl she tries to put a feminist spin on it. she has a whole twitter account dedicated to unlocking your "divine feminine", which is a real thing but she does it in such an incorrect way like telling people what plastic surgery they need to be "perfect" and of course, how to attract a rich man. it's a combo of venusian vanity and saturnian rule following (the beauty standards being the rules)

also, they both HATE eachother 😭

that sounds about right ngl

I feel like Venusian women who are not drawn to the arts and are somehow unable to channel their creativity make it their sole purpose in life to pursue romance and 😬it kind of messes them up?? My grandma is Purvaphalguni Moon and she was a very talented singer back in the day and wanted to study Music in college but her family was against it and made her study to be a teacher and then she ended up marrying my grandad and also cheating on him and ngl it ruined her life,,, anywayyss I feel like Venusians were meant to pursue all of the themes of Venus, ESPECIALLY its creativity because art will fulfil you in ways no man or relationship can and in the absence of it, all this excessive materialistic pursuit of relationships brings out the corrosiveness of Venus.

Venus is capable of immense devotional spirituality, its not a shallow planet or influence by any means but to get to the spirituality (of any planet tbh) one has to transcend its more superficial material manifestations. I think Venusian fixation on romance, relationships etc can be very damning. I know a Purvaphalguni Moon girl who cannot be single for even a second and she said she can't get married because she will cheat on him 😭

I know several Venusians who are like you mentioned but damn that Venus and Saturn combination you talked about is lethal,, they can lead themselves to such a shallow hollow and empty life. Ngl I feel like all those "dating coaches" online who talk about "10 ways to marry a rich man" are all Venusian/Saturnian women and sorry to break it but I promise it never works out. If a man knows that you're with him for his money, I promise you no amount of money he throws at you will be worth the mind games and psychological abuse that will ensue.

I have a friend, Bharani stellium who is from a well to do family but she dreams of marrying someone filthy rich and being a housewife. She's also Saturnian lmao but I feel like her idealized visions of being someone's trophy wife will lead to some bitter experiences. Bc first of all Indian men are trash, second of all, rich people are trash and a rich Indian man and his family are probably capable of god knows what insanity. I think about that video of Shah Rukh Khan, aka the biggest actor the country has ever seen at Isha Ambani's (billionaire's daughter) twins birthday party where they'd brought out snakes??? (rich ppl things bc who tf would bring snakes to a toddler's bday party??) and Isha's brother picks up a snake and puts it on SRK's shoulder from behind, catching him off guard. Like ik its obviously not poisonous but like ??? thats so rude??? imagine just putting a snake on someone without their consent??? its that asshole's entitlement that makes him believe he can get away with anything. any video of the Ambani kids is a testament to them being rich assholes but anyways point is, rich people are fucked up and its insane to me that women want to sign away their autonomy by marrying into these families??? like are they dumb??? how naive do you have to be to believe that they'll be rich AND nice to you?? lol?? and you cannot raise a finger against them bc money will silence everyone, even the courts. look at what happened to amber heard and what's happening to angelina jolie. these are powerful, influential women, not housewives to rich douchebags but even then, they suffer. now what would happen to a regular woman???

anybody who dreams of being a trophy wife feels absolutely delusional to me. its so important to maintain your independence. like by all means i want to marry rich but i dont ever want to be in a position where im financially dependent on a man. THATS DANGEROUS. quite literally.

[knee-stockings]

So I’ve been listening to lots of podcasts at work lately to break up the monotony of my office job. Mainly they’re horror, suspense/thriller, drama, that kind of thing. Trying to give ratings without spoilers~

(Check out updated pod recs here)

The Left Right Game (a journalist investigating an urban legend that gets increasingly more dangerous as they go): 5/5, this being one of the first ones I listened to set the bar really high tbh, it was great, immersive sound design, genuinely suspenseful and creepy moments, interesting plot, my only gripe is that I didn’t love the ending but I couldn’t dock a star just for that, highly recommend, maybe I’ll retire to Wintry Bay someday 

Alice Isn’t Dead (delivery trucker goes searching for her believed dead wife, comes across supernatural towns and creatures and a conspiracy that goes way deeper than one missing woman): 5/5, so so good, enjoyed a lot, I loved learning the truth about the Thistle men, still don’t completely understand oracles but that’s okay, some delightfully creepy moments, this will be high on my recommendation list (also it’s by the Welcome to Night Vale people, which I actually haven’t listened to lmao)

Harley Quinn and the Joker: Sound Mind (it’s a Harley Quinn origin story basically): 5/5, very enjoyable, sound design great, plot was fun, I don’t know how accurate this story is to the original Harley Quinn origin story but I liked this a lot

The Burned Photo (two women try to fight a familial curse haunting their bloodlines): 4/5, not bad at all, I thought the sound design was great and immersive but I thought the monster’s voice was a bit goofy idk, the plot wasn’t bad though ofc it was pretty bittersweet and sad in the end, tho I think it was never going to be happy for everyone involved

Blackwood (group of teens investigate the town urban legend and uncover more than they bargained for): I can’t decide…3.5 maybe? It was okay. I didn’t love it or hate it, I’m pretty neutral about it. It was interesting enough

Gaslight (girl goes missing and then reappears to her best friend years later with little explanation): 3/5, feels like there should be another season, wasn’t as dramatic/suspenseful as I thought it would be (maybe that’s my own fault tho, from the description and stuff I thought there would be more to it)

Ice-Cream (teens suspect the friendly neighborhood ice cream man of abducting little kids and uncover a dark secret): 4.5/5, interesting and a lil creepy, there’s something oddly funny about hearing someone scream “fuck you Beelzebub” even in context, sound design is pretty good and voice acting is great, finale was also pretty good but I’m docking half a star bc of that very last bit and bc I said so, overall short n’ sweet, no pun intendo (I’m kinda glad that it’s only the one season and not super long, gives the feeling of not overstaying its welcome. Also in awe that they made it within like a month, gonna go listen to their other podcast Cascadia too)

Cascadia (submarine expedition to uncharted waters, gone wrong, we almost died!?): 5/5, by the Ice-Cream people so I expected great sound design and voice acting and said expectations were met tbh, yes god love the drama, ocean depths are inherently scary to me so this is top tier horror, season one was chef’s kiss beautiful and I heard season 2 is coming so I’ll be waiting eagerly for that

Listening now:

Within the Wires (season 1 is relaxation cassette tapes from another world, season 2 is a guided museum tour I think): also by the WTNV people, interesting so far, the plot that unfolded in the first season was cool to watch as it played out, but also I am so sad. I like it so far

Rabbits (girl goes searching for her friend who disappeared because of this mysterious Rabbits game): feels like a really slow start after a few episodes, I kinda wanna get to more action soon please

Wake of Corrosion (apocalypse where characters are trying to find other survivors and also answers): mild shrug, not sure what to make of it just yet. Only like 2 episodes in so I think I need to give it a bit

Ars Paradoxica (scientist accidentally invents time travel and is thrown back to the 1940s): pretty interesting so far, science is fun 

Spoiler comment for Cascadia under the cut bc it's the one I just finished and I have Thoughts

As much as I enjoyed Cascadia, when I think about the expedition for more than 2 seconds I get confused. Not the whole alien thing, that’s fine, it’s Badger and Maria and their ulterior motives. Why in the world did Badger spend millions of dollars to make a submarine that’s faulty on purpose? And there was so much media coverage around it so the second something went wrong reporters were practically beating him over the head with microphones, so why risk so much bad press? Plus sacrificing three other talented divers who trusted him with their lives??? That’s the most confusing to me. There’s no way Badger foresaw them getting attacked underwater and losing Declan alone, so he must have been fully prepared to lose captain AND crew. Holden said that he saw Badger as a father, and yet he chose Holden to die? He said he handpicked them, so what did Holden, Alia, or Iris ever do to him to deserve being sent on a suicide mission? Doing all this just to get rid of Declan and be with Maria doesn’t feel right. Feels like there should be something more there. Tldr: surely Badger had another reason for conducting the suicide mission, right? Also since season 2 starts with Lila all grown up, a diver just like her father, I wanna know her opinions of her mother and of Badger. Did she learn about her mother’s betrayal? Is Badger still involved in funding deep sea diving or did the FBI take him out of that? Omg who’s the father of her little sibling…I’m so curious…

[tieflingfingers]

Karlach and the Great Pumpkin

What and who: Humor and fluff, Karlach letting out her inner child. Thomasin and Wyll keep the goblins in their place. Astarion has his own plans. Summary: Thomasin uses her half-drow heritage to her advantage as her and Wyll put on their stoic exteriors entering the goblin camp. Wyll spots an owlbear cub and Karlach becomes determined to take it home as a pet. Astarion sneaks off to figure out a way to thin the herd. Warning/Content: Just a little fun character building and expanding on the owlbear chase in the goblin camp. Part of series. More in the realm of character study, but everyone gets a little bit of the spotlight today. Word Count: 4,646 Ao3 Link

As the four walked through goblin territory, small beings seemed to flash their sharpened teeth with newfound confidence. The vigor of an army manned by an intangible god. They erected hazardous pathways made of scrap wood and rusty nails. Splintered wood patched splintered wood, creating watchtowers and multi-level platforms, rickety in every step weighing upon them. Heights that made the chip on their shoulders quiver with power.

One by one, groups of goblins introducing themselves as lookout militia interrogated the strangers approaching.  They insisted dung be smeared before entering out of respect. Requests and demands thrown about to clap for their achievements or bow before their god. All lackluster threats to Thomasin’s safety until the goblins' synapses connected the dots. 

It was the complexion of her skin. Thomasin was, in fact, a drow. At least, full-blooded by their perception. A woman plucked right out of the Underdark with a pension for apathy and terror. The right hand of the Absolute must’ve been eternally warmed by Lolth’s embrace to earn such submission.   

Thomasin took it in stride. Preconceived notions had been placed upon her since she was a child. Her existence was boiled down into what was to be expected in the vicinity of a drow. A series of half-educated discussions that followed her around and rarely ended in her benefit. Never had it succumbed to this. For once, she felt authority. 

The only factor quelling their fears of her seemed to be inebriation. Fat tongues and giggling dispositions blanketed by bitter alcohol. Ineptitude egged on by a celebration of homemade booch and crude jokes that made them clink their tankards. The taunting turned to circles of questioning as they remembered why they feared her kind in the first place.

They wondered if the drow ate food or if the souls of their victims were enough sustenance. Whether she had an audience with the drow stationed in the temple. If she, too, sought to thrash through the forests with unforgiving vengeance. If she would sprout the legs of a spider on command the instant they weren’t cordial.

Leaning into Lolth torture culture curdled within Thomasin’s stomach like a pit of congealed bile. It was the constant burst of her oblivion. The loving anecdotes of her father were being overtaken by light corrosive stinging, acrid and settled in her core. All she could do was hope Eilistraee would understand.

The goddess knew of her sister’s grasp. She, too, would empathize with what made the plight of conversation smoother. Tales spun were of no actual weight upon her character. Stories crafted were more terrifying than any truth, but she let the mythos live.

Eventually they met the arches of a temple lost to time. The entrance to stone ruins where goblins shone their most wily behavior. Thomasin’s muscles tightened, shoulder blades pinned back and posture self-assured. Bolts secured an expression of impassiveness upon her face, skin pulled taut and unimpressed. All was held by masonry welded air-tight from years of practice. 

Of course, their antics weren't scarier than most bandits she’d encountered. It wasn’t their hostility that clutched her nerves tight. It was a fear born from the sheer amount of goblins they waded through. All drunk far beyond their limits and chock-full of opinions. A rambunctious party had become well underway.

The companions now realized the extent of the alcohol in circulation. It didn’t take long for this batch to vocalize their true distaste for the outsiders. Liquid courage bubbled in their guts and strung together uncreative insults. Misused words formed jabs that dance like delight off their tongues. 

Morals misshapen, bent, and dressed in worn leathers and dark pigments. Small hands riddled with impulses swung dull weaponry without care. No blade discipline was needed in the name of the Absolute. No god had ever been as gracious in the pursuit of pillaging. Blind faith was worth the scarce ethics. 

Thomasin’s temporary truth made lips loosen. She became a vessel for the Absolute followers to vent, providing catharsis as they brought up a female drow spoken of like a necessary evil. A nuisance and a leader so vicious, her name embedded like deep splitting cracks of their lips. The name “Minthara” repeated, spit up with frustration and venom. 

Wyll had previously vented and ranted about his encounters with goblins over a bottle of his own. Nights where he felt the space to unveil true emotions and recognize the children that left permanent scar tissue around his heart. It all made the role of unwavering stoicism far easier to play. Scowls and short demands that contrasted the strategies, or lack thereof, of Karlach and Astarion. 

Their partners rode on the coattails of such leadership. They knew that half of intimidation came from blatant disregard alone. A tiefling of her stature was massive, running so hot that the air warped around her. A high elf rich in the performance of hierarchy walked at her side, his aura giving off its own presence in a metaphorical way. Although most wouldn’t consider his outward disgust as unwarranted. 

The goblins’ merriment wafted about like rising stale smoke. An odorous haze that left a pungent, almost acidic, film on one’s tongue if not careful. The stench of standing water, mud, and dung hung over the ruins like a canvas covered wagon, encasing every sense imaginable. An unkempt barn mixing with the aroma of mystery meat roasting over an open fire’s spit.

“Hells, I’m one for this sort of debauchery, but couldn’t they-I don’t know, freshen up?” Astarion disparaged with a crinkle of his nose. “Even the blood in this place smells of sour dirt.”

Karlach inhaled, cutting it off before revulsion could seep in. 

“It’s rough, but not as bad as you’d think once you get used to it. Goblins throw the best parties,” she said, waving a hand through the punishing air.  “You get drunk enough and even the booze tastes good. And lifting one of those guys up to do a keg stand? One hand, easy.”

Wyll hadn’t spoken much, surveying his surroundings for potential dangers. To his surprise, his eye landed upon an owlbear cub sitting beside its presumed master.

“Looks like that little fella got swept up,” he uttered with a subtle nod. The man’s usual poetics had flattened, as did the lilt in his voice. Octaves lowered to maintain his facade, but the whisper of optimism that colored his words could be heard peeking through. It had a grittier resolve now. “Wonder how long until it’s old enough to realize this place is one big meal.”

Karlach’s cheekbones rose, teeth clenching tight with a grin that cemented her jaw shut. Her tongue stiffened and pressed up against its cage out of instinct from a lifetime of traversing the hells. Although the joy seeped through the bars, snaking through with its own wisps of smoke. In this realm, no brass douter could snuff out her flame. 

Thoughts of their bonding ricocheted in her mind. The feeling of her claws ruffling through bushels of feathers. Rotund, wide-eyed, every chirping twist and turn of its head. Its circumference was perfect. The exact size made for her wing-span to cradle at night. 

“By the gods and everything unholy, please tell me you have a potion I can use to talk to that little guy. We need them in our camp,” she whispered with great restraint, thudding against Thomasin’s shoulder repetitively with a bandage-wrapped forearm. 

Thomasin had never considered the fact one could domesticate an owlbear. Common tales painted these beasts as fueled by murder. Countless illustrations in children’s books were published around Faerun to make them wary of the forests unsupervised. Now she had met a grove of druids electing to share small talk with cave bears and snakes’ unhinging jaws. Perhaps the creature would grow to have its own stories, jokes, and tips on the lay of the land.

Before the half-elf could answer, she felt an assault of sheer volume hitting her. From atop the safety of a crate, a goblin woman’s shouts carried throughout the yard. She was a proud mother touting the owlbear like a circus act, letting it fester in a pile of dust until there was a use for it. She squinted at the group of elves and horned strangers alike, the same pigments streaking her eyelids also staining her lips. Exposed soot settled in between the cracks of her teeth when she spoke.

“Ay, if you dont got plans to bet, keep on walking!”

Thomasin furrowed her brows. The drunken assertiveness felt like unpaved gravel roads. Like the pitch of her voice had become mauled by years of smoking dead dried herbs.

 “Gods–and what are you proposing we bet on?” she replied with quick reflexes, if only to stop the sounds of heckling. The half-elf’s hand tucked into skirt pockets so she could rub a thumb along the surface of a river-polished rock.

“It’s a chicken chasing game, get the rocks outta ya’ ears, murker. No dragon huntin’ or fairytale nonsense. You put in a few coin, if you chase ‘im through our maze, through the posts, to the goal line. If yer quick, you get your money and then some.” The goblin leaned forward, her height now nearly the half-elf’s, granting her quite the audacity. “If you lose, I don’t wanna hear it.”

As she began to respond, Thomasin’s heart dropped at a sensation nudging at her shoulder. It was only a second, but the weight of thieving fingers tugged at her posture, threatening her performance. A pair of resilient lungs always readied and prepared for mishap steadied her breath and settled once icy fingertips came into focus. 

Astarion was searching for a potion half-consumed. The remaining sloshing about in a repurposed wine bottle partially filled, glittering liquid dulled behind near opaque glass. It had been the same concoction he lifted from her bag days prior out of necessity. The birds nearby their camp had to have a heart-to-heart discussion. Or rather, lecture. His finetooth comb was an awful addition to their nest, if not for the poor interior design alone. Thieving was best left to those with thumbs.

“Not sure that’s a chicken, frankly,” Thomasin replied, stalling for time. Her bare shoulder rolled, playing off the fright like a heavy backpack strap had slipped from its place, immediate to be repositioned. 

“It’s got feather’s, don’t it? A beak? Elves always tryin’ to act smarter than they are… Stupid thing ate our last chicken, owes us for that. Want in or not?”

Karlach jumped to the forefront, her chin sizzling as a stream of glittering liquid was wiped with the back of her hand. Her weathered wraps glinted with iridescence and pointed ears twitched as the cub’s chirps began to form coherence to her common tongue. She flung the bottle forward, adding to a collection of glass accumulating, chunks of green shards shattering in its wake.

“I’ll do it! I wanna take a crack at it. Get me in there, coach.” 

The tiefling dug into a satchel hanging from her belt and pulled out a few coins, their metal turning shades of copper and crimson. Their surfaces blistered on impact in the goblin’s open palm and she shrieked, juggling the coins in the air to cool. The four could feel one another shoving down their amusement.

“Fuckin’ shit, the cost of makin’ a heap of coin. Follow me.”

Karlach departed with the cub as they walked to opposing sides of a makeshift maze. A section of the temple’s exterior had been blocked off with a series of crates, barrels, and fencing made of swollen rotted wood. Rags and discarded belongings scattered about like obstacles. Dull blades, lost boots, thick broken glass bottles had been thrown without reason. Torches secured with splitting rope sat atop posts, lighting a path under the shade of forgotten goddesses.

A smattering of goblins gathered behind the three tall strangers, peeking through the spaces between wrists and hips. Each was fidgety with coins pinched between dirt-stained fingers, exchanging last minute bets in hopes of riches. Those with little to their name merely watched and manifested that the tiefling would hit the ground like a tree collapsing in a forest. A giantess versus overgrown poultry. 

Astarion’s knees shifted side to side at the sensation of the crowd brushing up against him, groaning at their nonexistent personal space. A concept all too foreign for a place like this. They pushed and prodded, barked and bantered, until the elf had enough. He wiggled his way out, parting from the commotion to wander into nearby pockets of camp.

“Alright, everyone hold onto yer hides. This lucky lady is gonna try to outsmart a chicken! Fat chance, so keep take yer bets now.”

Karlach noted how the cub’s feathers splayed outward, puffing its silhouette up into a monster a fifth larger than its actual size. She knew those paws were still young. Their pads had not yet been callused by cragged terrain and aggressive tendencies were all it had left. So, Karlach played her role.

The tiefling wiped red clammy hands onto leather pants and lowered her stance. It was natural. Knees bent, hip wide, focus sharpened. This wasn’t the response to demons and death rattles, but visions of a young girl playing stickball in the city streets. A time where both horns were intact. Only the worrying aid of her mother when her daughter came home with scraped knees and a tooth cradled like a trophy.

The sound of a rattling bone flail was followed by the crowd demanding violence and showmanship. A metaphorical clock ticked down and Karlach used her same toothy determination to vault over each fence. Light feet often survived where hot feet stumbled, bouncing on toes and deliberately digging her heels to pivot where need be.

What was meant as a treacherous challenge made her giggle as she evaded debris. Posts being sped past were slapped to leave char marks. Documentations of her swift impending success etched into wood. Blackened streaks wove into its grain where her tail slid by and barrels knocking over with an occasional clumsy maneuver only worsened by her own glee.

Caught up in the game, it took a moment for Karlach to realize there was only a few feet left between her and the cub. Her adrenaline pumped in what felt like a frequency identical to the echoes and awes of her audience. Their comments intertwined into a pool of losing bets and winning screams. The sudden stop of her momentum interrupted her balance, catching her statuesque height like a ceramic vase swirling itself back onto flat ground. 

“Hey!—”

Karlach bit her tongue as she heard her voice bellow. From the angle of the crowd, her muscles flexed like prey about to consume its prize. What they couldn’t see was the enthusiasm flushing her cheeks. The lowering of her voice to a calm, approachable beckoning. Her nails’ gentle wiggling to release her warm scent to the creature before her.

”Hey, hey. Easy now, little baby. I won’t hurt you.”

The owlbear growled, confused but revving up its biological defense mechanisms. Her pleas became muffled beneath the cheer of the crowd as they witnessed a stand-off. Overstimulated and overwhelmed, it made the cub kick up onto its back legs to pivot to scurry off.

”Whoop!”

Karlach giggled, lowering further down, words rushed and urgent but softened like speaking to a child. A skill the tiefling hadn’t honed much in her adult years, but she recognized when a bark was louder than its bite.

“Sh, shhh, hey,” she whispered as the creature caught itself in another corner. A bundle of feathers wedged between posts. “If these guys are treating you bad, we can take care of you.”

“All I do is eat food and now they look at me like food,” the cub uttered, puffed up and ready to charge at any sudden movements.

“I’m not mean like them. I have lots of meat. Are you hungry?” Karlach glanced over her shoulder, recognizing the ticking seconds fleeting, before looking back at the cub. “If you run to the end, we’ll get you out of here.”

The cub’s feathery fur flattened a bit, considering how nice of a proposition she had given. What innocence was left in the youth latched onto the idea of safety. It bolted past her, back into the lanes, and began to attempt navigating the maze once more. Karlach gasped as her plan worked, glee whistling through her teeth. She followed, nose scrunching at the tiny paw prints left in the dirt floor beneath them.

“That’s it! A little more now!”

The crowd of goblins, including the cub’s unrightful owner, narrowed their eyes at the close call. Even in their camaraderie, Wyll couldn’t dampen his distaste for their behavior. Wily and uncouth with a backdrop of cooking flesh. The same distinct yet cryptic scent usually encountered in dens of depravity and enslavement camps. He felt Thomasin set a hand upon his shoulder, quiet with its consolation.

At this point, each of the companions had voiced their own traumas and gripes to an extent.  She recognized the passion of justice burning a hearth fierce in his soul. The ardency of one’s early twenties not yet jaded by a constant retaliation of life.

Wyll tilted his head downward at a couple of spectators rough-housing against his calves. His gestures were casual and unassuming, fingers only half-splayed to point at Karlach’s revelry. The looseness mimicked a form of himself usually unsheathed by late night drinking.

“Swift thinking and moves like that, makes the Blade of Frontiers look worse for wear, don’t you think?” he commented, dismissing his own nickname with false contempt.

“Bah, he wouldn’t show his face in here if he knows what’s good for ‘im. Heard he ran off all scared-like to some camp, but we got the best of the best out there looking for his ugly face.”

Both Wyll and Thomasin couldn’t help but snicker, her eyes flicking over at him to see his response. There was a subtle glint of recognition in both of their eyes. No overt crooks in their grins to break the cover of stony power plays. Wyll simply crossed his arms, nodding along to the insults as if he too felt the very same.

“Ah, of course. Hiding behind a sword. The type always known for coward, you’re right. Takes a keen eye to spot the imposters.” He chuckled, mingling himself into their conversation inch by inch. “Say, how do you think they’re gonna slay him? Been pondering the thought myself, hearing he was running around these forests.”

“Been spendin’ lots of time grindin’ arrowheads down with the best stones. Makin’ ‘em real sharp.”

“Yeah! So pointy, ya prick your finger if you’re not careful. Gotta save the sharpened bits to take out the Blade’s other eye. A keen eye for a keen eye!”

They two goblins began to laugh, clutching their stomachs. Coughs and congratulatory pats on each others’ backs buckled their knees as if there had never been a sharper wit. Rejoicing that made them trip over their own hypotheticals, stumbling into each sentence like they threatened to run away.

“Then we- Then- we-we beat ‘im real nice until he stops movin’-, I bet he’s got loads of gold weighing down those pockets,” one goblin said. “Don’t get a name like that without bein’ fancy. That bounty must come with a big ol’ prize.”

Wyll let out half-hearted laughs, but his amusement melted his persona into one of annoyance for a few flashing seconds. He looked to Thomasin with an eye roll before ramping up once more to accommodate those cackling at his knees.

“Creative. Sounds like this Blade’s got a fortune on him. We may need to pay him a visit.”

Thomasin smirked at the way Wyll conducted himself, feeling a sense of pride at his confidence and deception. Although her gaze shook from its focus at the sound of sharp popping flammables. Meager explosives and clacking ramshackle party favors had rang through the ruins in celebration. 

Karlach let herself hover over the cub to soak in the last morsels of attention, twisting and bulging her back muscles. She flexed without shame and cursed at those whipping insults at her. Through years of torment, the tiefling had bred a physique she often struggled to find gratitude in, but the owlbear found comfort in such. Under the shade of her towering presence, the babe was reminded of its mother.

Thomasin and Wyll weaved through the crowd the woman hosting, who had been surveying the game from a large stack of crates.

“Looks like compensation in order,” the half-elf said.

“Ahhh, actually, it's’ written in the rules that only goblins can win the prize of the pot. Don’t take it up with me, I don’t make ‘em up. “

Thomasin scowled. Not only from the rigged ruleset, but the nagging vibration deep within her skull. The wriggling assertion of dominance that left her restless. Its presence forced itself to be known, even if the sensation made the half-elf want to slip from her own skin. In the mental energy it took to suppress her discomfort, it came to her attention that the goblin felt it as well. 

In fact, it seemed to clutch on the host, aura gripping the weaker mind and jostling her nerves. Thomasin’s voice waned under the building pressure, lips pursed to exhale something shaken and uncertain. In her best efforts, she maintained authority. 

“This isn’t up for negotiation.”

Karlach had led the cub over, speaking in soft inaudible mews. Concealed baby talk half- disguised from the potion consumed. As they joined the conflict, the owlbear suddenly lifted its paw. A limp display of feebleness that Karlach pointed at with her thumb. 

“Looks like this one got its paws torn up before it even ran,” the tiefling added, sucking at her teeth at the sight of a lost cause.

Thomasin’s eyes flicked over at the creature. Whether it truly was injured or part of a ruse was none of her business. In times of being outnumbered, there was only grinding your heels deeper into the dirt and following your teammates’ falsehoods accordingly.  The half-elf’s voice got more severe, in a way rarely seen by the others.

“Conning us out of a bet? After all the shit this thing is causing you? Eating your food? Becoming the reason your blood spills on the floor?” Thomasin took a step closer, the aura of her tadpole buzzing down both of their spines. The vibrations of a foreign intruder sat atop their vertebrae, its grip feeling like the bones were being detached and reset on a microscopic level. 

“You return our money if you value where you stand and by Lolth, you won’t get crushed by the drowic goddess in your sleep. Minthara swears by it,” Thomasin continued before stepping back again, shoving the box an inch with the toe of her boot. Its force shifted just enough to make the goblin fall flat onto her palms.

“And we’ll take the owlbear off your hands,” Wyll said, stepping into the goblin’s view. His voice was calm, acknowledging the dread in the eyes of such petty financial theft. “If it’s close to dead, what makes you think it’s not gonna turn on you as a last ditch effort? Odd, you should have learned they’re known for flipping at a moment’s notice.”

Tucked to the side, Karlach used the points of her clawed nails to dig into a bag hanging with dense heft at the belt. From its contents, small chunks of meat were flung towards the cub, an assortment of raw flesh lifted from skewers and stuffed away. Although the affection earned her a nudge from Wyll as he begged for subtly with the rise of his brow. Karlach nodded and straightened her focus. What was left of a smile pressed flat, but remained charmed by the speed at which the cub inhaled its meal in thanks.

The goblin woman shook her head, speaking in a tone as if the final word and decision of her sole making. 

“Fine! For fuck’s sake. Take the damned thing. Must be a rodent ‘round these parts that’ll do better.”

“C’mon, we got plans with you,” Karlach commanded the cub, tilting her head for it to follow.

Within Thomasin’s hand, a tattered burlap sack of coin landed into her palm and was plucked from her in record time. The half-elf bit the inside of her cheek to hide her mild shock. Astarion’s idea of fun stemmed from his ability to creep up in total silence, not caring whether the opportunity would be suitable for his playful nature. 

“Looks like lady luck was on our side after all,” he exclaimed with a grin, letting the bag twist left to right before both of their eyes.

Thomasin tried her best to ignore frustrations toward the elf, opting to focus on what amusement could be siphoned by his comedic timing alone. She felt him run his hand up the small of her back, idly resting it there. Even though miniscule, the affection boggled her sense of space and time. At an already baseline state of stress, she realized she’d been present only from her outer body. As if floating above the crowd, she witnessed her muscles tense and the retreat of his hand up onto her shoulder.

The half-elf blinked, raising her own hand enough to reciprocate a quick squeeze of his. She couldn’t identify whether it was to soothe her or him, but the feelings passed just as easily. It wasn’t long before her posture reset itself.

“We’ll be back after we handle the vermin,” she said with cold unmoving confidence. “Keep yourself out of trouble.” 

As they all turned to walk away, the goblin host exclaimed one last time.

“Uh- yes ma’am!”

The unconventional sight of the four made their way through the camp with a cub limping in hand. Stoic and faced forward to not invite distractions, Astarion couldn’t help but leave them with a smug delight on his lips. The once cheering band of partygoers had simmered down into celebratory small talk and the coughing up of distilled bathtub brew. 

The moment they stepped past the threshold of the ruin's main arch, Karlach dug into the sagging bag at her hip. She tore apart a hearty chunk and tossed it with what stealth one of her size could muster. An easy feat as the cub caught it in its mouth with little issue.

“My boy’s gotta eat,” the tiefling stated, flinging another sliver of meat. She squinted at the creatures' bounce and what little she knew of biology. “Girl? It doesn’t matter. Your name’s Pumpkin.”

“Apt, a little round thing you are. Too fierce to be living amongst all these wily bastards,” Wyll chimed in.

Astarion raised a finger, leaning forward to announce his achievements out of goblin earshot. “By the way, I’ll let you all know I did my part. All the spittle from those beasts in there, far too easy. Considered a simple sleeping potion in the alcohol bowl, but poisons are just more fun. Whatever they mixed together in that excuse of a punch bowl looked atrocious anyhow. I did them a service.”

Thomasin raised her brows, hand settled upon her chest to keep an eye on her racing heartbeat. She took a second from deep breathing, to let out her own hushed chuckle. She knew his wandering could warrant mischief, but the man had lived through far more dire punishments. Although, it caught her off guard when he made contributions without listing its detailed plans out loud.

“Huh. Good job, darling. They'll be hungover or dead by morning at this rate.” 

“All of the above, I hope,” he said, laughing in the high pitched glee of a successful death.

[chucapybara]

—INNAMORATI; A FROSTBITTEN ELEGY.

an entry on the tsaritsa's abyssal knight; for context regarding future innamorati pieces. think of it as an archive description :] this is my oc concept for inna!

Innamorati—thought of as even lesser in rank than the Harbinger Tartaglia, born mortal, tainted by the everlasting dark beneath the soil of the earth. Within one vessel strains a second beast, begotten by a chosen fate. Thrown to the wolves.

But within the Tsaritsa’s domain, the woman whose flesh was cast in obsidian shell may yet know the everlasting grace of Her Majesty’s ‘ffectionate gaze.

In the Tsaritsa’s house, even those who have nothing but loyalty and skill may yet find some purpose to make of themselves—to revel in the score of a requiem for the end of heaven itself.

KEEPER OF THE DAMNED;

The bearer of Innamorati’s name bears also its cursed inheritance: a cycle of tragedy, of loss. Those who have come before her are known for their brutally romantic sacrifices, for their unabiding devotion; to be The Lovers is to be two as one, interpreted often as a necessity of partnership under the same title—thus, most strange it is indeed for Innamorati to be of one body, of one mind.

Of the many Harbingers, as actors upon the Tsaritsa’s stage, the Innamorati is best suited towards pursuits of love. She finds herself deployed across Teyvat, engaging in diplomatic endearments of sorts. With a quiet and frigid voice does she bring the good word of the Cryo Archon; with her lonesome, crystal-glazed tipped spear does she pierce the hearts of the unbelievers, to turn them towards the arms of Her Majesty; with their blood does it paint and glorify its Host.

(Yet, sometimes, it still mistakes the Host for prey.)

Whenever Innamorati is given brief from her Mission, she tends to the Fatui’s fallen, commemorating them by name, praying the rites of honour. What most of the prideful Harbingers would consider to be grunt work is the quieter part of The Lovers’ calling: remembrance of the nameless. On behalf of the sinners, it is Innamorati who bends her knee to repent, and to ferry the memories of those lost to duty, pride, sorrow, as their unyielding warden.

THE ABYSSAL PERMAFROST;

The world beneath Teyvat is unforgiving in ways those above may never yet know. Smears of her crimson handprints across the rock faces still linger like murals, her gasps echoing infinite in the empty dark.

Before the abyss, the Permafrost was a knight first, virtuous and true: her armour polished, her uniform radiant and well-pressed. In her pursuit of a criminal adversary, the depths swallowed her in its maw, along with two others equally as unfortunate.

A tavern waitress, a Treasure Hoarder-turned delinquent gang member, and a Knight of Favonius, with no bar in sight for the drink of wine they would have needed most for the trials that lay ahead.

Days spun on the loom of fate, each hour thrice its value on the surface. Stale air, cool stone, and no way out: the pursuer becomes the pursued, and with the battles below came the inevitability of injury.

A knight’s duty is to their people, both foreign and known. Such was her mindful chant to steady her heart.

‘Tell me of your friends.’

‘What’s your favourite season?’

‘Here. Take my cape. Stay warm.’

‘There! Run for it! I’ll cover you both!’

After time unknown in the darkness, two of the three fled into the light at the third’s behest, as a well-timed throw of a polearm staged a cavern collapse. Slivers of light would vanish, sealing her chance. Sealing her fate, with the forlorn whisper between the tumble of rock—

...A knight’s duty, too, is their weakness.

THE LOVERS TO THE FORGOTTEN.

The day she first emerged from her grave, her mangled and emaciated form stumbled, robes torn into makeshift bandages tied around a missing right arm. Only later would the Doctor find evidence of corrosion, claw-cut gashes, stricken bone molten.

Pinned at the base of her nape pulsed the faintness of a god-gifted gem: a Vision, its years-worn shell fashioned in the manner of that faraway dandelion land. The dame that would later become The Lovers was far from herself, every breath a trembling, misting whisper—her body temperature had dropped below what ought to be livable for a human being, much less a surface-dweller. Of what tatters were left from the robes she donned, any such knowing eye would surmise the embellishments and craftsmanship to be sourced from the harbour of contracts.

A living contradiction, spurred step by step: motions jagged, stiff-limbed. Trekking through bush and undergrowth of a land foreign to its host, searching for the last bastion it recalls.

Home.

…Home.

I have to go home.

In tandem, both parasitic occupant and vessel seek refuge and respite. Whatever thing had latched on to the knight in the unknown time of her entombment could not, of course, permit the death of the host—and so it endeavours through the thicket, through the blanketing snow, until it arrives at a starving village…

The howls in the woods were not of wolves, that day.

With regaining their strength came the seeking eyes of Her Majesty, and everything else that came after. Were it not for the presence of something that did not belong, Innamorati may have never been considered a candidate for the rank of Harbinger.

That sweet, forgotten knight, birthed anew from the soil, thawed from the permafrost. They do not recall it still, but the heart remembers in the spans between consciousness, when Innamorati is herself and not another. If only for that woman’s sake, Innamorati pursues her legacy—the tragedy she had inherited with her name, with the creature that shares her.

To love,

In defiance of Until her fated end.

[yezielmoore]

2. Horizon

Soo... this prompt is 90% Honkai Impact 3rd but in Etherys. Not that Himeko, the character isekai'd from HI3, knows that. She's kinda rambling in her head about what happened before she got dumped in FFXIV. So this will probably be confusing for the FFXIV folks and for that i apologize. I doubt future prompts will be as focused on HI3 as this one. Probably. I can't plan an outline if my life depended on it, and we are hostages to the prompts anyway.

I'll summarize some terms and concepts and maybe link a video in the end.

~*~*~

To say that Himeko expected to wake up again was like saying the honkai was only a little bit deadly. An understatement at best and a boldfaced lie at worst. 

Even as she suited up for the battle against Sirin, Himeko had known it was likely to be her last stand; the same way a terminally ill patient knows that throwing their meds down the drain and running away from the hospital would be their last act. Confronting Sirin in her current state, despite her new suit, or maybe even because of the suit, was just as irrational and unsurvivable. Definitely not what a good role model would do.

Heh.

Despite what Theresa would say, Himeko never claimed to be a good role model. In fact, she was sure she claimed exactly the opposite in her job interview. 

Whatever.

The point was, she didn’t expect to wake up again. She certainly didn’t expect to wake up on an old-fashioned wooden boat surrounded by water as far as the eye could see. And she absolutely didn’t expect the race change. And no, she didn’t mean skin color or eye shape or anything remotely like that. She meant the tail and the ears, the fur and claws and excellent night vision and so on. No matter how you looked at it, she definitely wasn’t human anymore, at least not by any definition on Earth.

Well, not unless one got philosophical about it and Himeko would be the first to agree that the soft sciences weren’t her forte. Give her a good engineering book any day over a debate on the definition of humanity.

At least none of the changes were the sickly white of honkai beast caparace or the glowing pink of honkai corruption. She would have already made use of the hunting knife strapped to her waist if that had been the case. 

Ah, but she got distracted again. To be fair, there was much to be distracted about, although maybe her freak out could wait until she was safely on dry land. 

Not that Himeko had any clue as to where she was or in which direction dry land was supposed to be. And the stars… 

Gold eyes looked up at the unpolluted night sky. It was a breathtaking sight, no doubt about that, and one that was completely alien to her. No matter in which direction she looked, Himeko couldn’t recognize a single constellation. She passed astronomy with flying colors, it was simply impossible that she wouldn’t recognize the night sky. 

Unless it was a different night sky than that of Earth.

So… had she, somehow, fallen through imaginary space into a bubble universe? She was aware of the existence of those and it would explain the change in location, but it didn’t explain why she was alive. Or a different race altogether. 

Because if Himeko knew something with 100% certainty, it was that she should be dead… Had, perhaps, been dead. Even if it didn’t stick. For some reason. So what had happened? 

Her memories prior to that climatic moment were hazy with adrenaline, bone-deep exhaustion and excruciating pain, but she remembered injecting the God-Slaying Spear into Kiana and imparting her final lesson. Then nothing. Or… not nothing exactly. There were bursts of feelings, pride and conviction and love. A few times Himeko thought she saw flashes of Kiana. Had some part of her latched onto Kiana and followed her on her journey? Strange, perhaps, but not stranger than apocalyptic messiahs hellbent on the total annihilation of the human race chosen by a corrosive, eldritch and possibly sentient energy from the place where life itself sprung forth. 

What else? Relief, a feeling of drifting and then… safety? Light. A… query and… an answer? Her answer?

Himeko clutched her head as pain lanced through her brain like one of Sirin’s void lances, but even less nice, if such a thing was possible with the homicidal brat. 

So not thinking about that. Gotcha.

What to do now then? Regardless of how she got here or where here was in relation to Earth, trying to go back was pointless. She died there and if her hallucinations or dreams had any truth in them, then Kiana was doing okay. Himeko Murata was dead on Earth and it should stay that way.

However, it seemed like there was a place for Himeko in this world; otherwise why would he find herself alive, placed inconveniently in the middle of the ocean, but otherwise unharmed and with a pack full of necessities tied down on the covered part of her little boat?

Her situation and lack of memory spoke of deals made in the dark and powers beyond her comprehension. Therefore the question was: should she play along? She wanted to rebel on principle, but without knowing what the deal was, without even knowing what she agreed to do (if indeed she agreed to do anything) it was foolish and plain ridiculous to insist on being a contrarian. That way laid madness and Himeko was many things, but actively suicidal wasn’t one of them.

Himeko sighed wearily and leaned back, the horizon lightening up with the upcoming sunrise. She wondered if that way lay the East in this world or if even that was different. For all she knew the sun rose on Beta and set on Gamma. 

In any case, regardless from which angle she looked at the situation she was in, it was a second chance at life. A wholly unexpected and unlooked-for second chance. Before… Himeko hadn’t been ready to die, (who is?), but she had been prepared. She had put all her affairs in order long before the Herrscher of the Void had possessed Kiana. She had known that her life was only getting shorter, fast at first and then faster, years of her life sheared off by the artificial stigmata that allowed her to fight. Had she hanged her sword, she could have, maybe, lived another 10 years and died at the ripe old age of 39. Instead she lived a few extra months and bit it before reaching her thirties. 

“I’m getting maudlin,” Himeko mused to herself, forcibly wrenching her thoughts away from that downward spiral. Being alone with her thoughts never did her any good. She sighed. “A beer would be so welcome right now.”

This new life of hers probably wasn’t going to be anything like the life she once dreamed of, but Himeko had already buried those dreams when she signed up with Schicksal. Maybe this new start had strings attached, then again, maybe it didn’t. Himeko wasn’t sure she had it in her to be optimistic about her unknown benefactor, but she could adopt a ‘wait and see’ attitude. After all, it wasn’t like said benefactor had given her a forwarding address for her questions. 

Himeko straightened suddenly when she finally realized that the blurry dot backlit by the predawn light she had been following with her eyes was, in fact, a ship slowly cresting over the horizon and if she was correct… yep, it was sailing directly in her direction. 

Luck? 

Or fate? 

Himeko couldn’t tell and she refused to guess the motives of such forces. Assuming said forces even had motives, a big assumption by itself and definitely beyond her paygrade. (Not that she had a job anymore. Goddamnit. She hated job hunting).

All she could do now was make sure her boat was outside of direct collision range and make sure she was visible.

…and maybe take stock of all her available weapons, just in case pirates were a thing in this world. 

TBC

----

If you want to see the fight that Himeko mentions there is this cinematic. It's part of the game so Spoilers! But you're here, so go ahead. Final Lesson

Q&A time!

WTF is the Honkai? In layman's terms, it's like a super agressive energy from outer space that has it out for humanity. It grows apace with human civilization and wrecks havoc creating things like diseases (the black plague), natural disasters and Herrchers. Most people don't have resistance to honkai and either flat out die or become zombies upon exposure (yes, you read that right) and animals/critters can become honkai beasts.

Herrschers? They are humans (in most cases) that, at the lowest point of their lives or in circumstances where there's a fuck ton of honkai around, accept or get co-opted by the honkai and become mobile and genocidal natural disasters with a burning hatred for humanity. They have Authority over a concept.

Sirin/Herrcher of the Void? She had Authority over the Void, aka: Time/Space. She appeared before game canon and did things like making Siberia unlivable and dropping meteors on Earth, destroying cities and killing millions. During the game she possessed Kiana, our dorky MC, who went on a rampage until Himeko stopped her by injecting her with a serum that supressed Sirin and allowed Kiana to surface.

Stigma? Natural stigmattas are a thing that very very few people have. They grant honkai resistance and powers. Schicksal (an organization fighting against the honkai) reverse engineered them and made artificial stigmattas. They grant resistance and power at the cost of years if not decades of your life.

Why the heck did you mention a Tree? The imaginary tree is kinda complicated, but all Hoyoverse games exist in the same Universe (same Tree). Imagine each game is a World/Leaf in the Tree. Usually they are separated and it would require a monumental effort to cross to a different leaf, never mind branch in the Tree. FFXIV is now a leaf in the Tree because i say so.

Bubble universes? The word universe complicates things ugh. It's my understanding that bubble universes are kind of like incomplete worlds attached to the main world/leaf. Sorta like alternative universes i guess. So yeah, all your fan fic is real kinda deal, lol. They usually can't maintain themselves and erode/are destoyed.

And finally, Imaginary Space? It's a space outside of the "regular" world structure, like an in-between space. Himeko died in that imaginary space and fell there as it collapsed. In my lingo that's the perfect chance to fuck around and write fix-it fics.

There's a LOT more, but ask and i'll answer in the next prompt.

[sleepy-aletheas]

Casually losing my mind over Celestia

This is me tossing my free train of thoughts with no edits or double-checking, cause it buzzes in my brain so loudly, I need it out.

It's a mess.

Simulanka = same story cycles with each ending its own

Phanes = 4 forms of names/roles = 4 tries of “cycles” = Paimon is 5th??? 4.5???

Primordial One (it/its) = Istaroth/Tokoyo Ookami/King’s Priest = King (incarnation* of the Primordial One) = ? = ?

*incarnation is such a messy word, because it means something along the lines of divinity made flesh; so like, a divine power assumes the body of a human or animal. In Christianity it’s in relationship with Jesus, but apparently it was a hot topic for debate for centuries, cause no one actually ever agreed on one interpretation, where some made Jesus to be the Creator and not the created, or he was God but also Man at the same time…

Since the four shades are split off of PO, it either could mean that they’re all split at the same time into different (but 50% same?) individuals, or the splits came one after another, for each samsara Teyvat went through.

On that note, the Narzissenkreuz split the samsara cycles into Hyperborea, Natlantean, Remuria, Khraun-Arya, in which AT THE TIME THE ORDO WROTE THIS DOWN they were still in the first half of the 4th cycle (since the ordo established after the Cataclysm, but they were children during it, it must be written down 400+ years ago present time). Those names were just taken from ancient texts, and that the samsara (and these names) are in relation to the spiritual evolution. (also there might be some more details in the Akademiya, with how they worded it to not step on toes…hmm)

What if Celestia is empty, because in a last “trial” (a last hail mary) the Primordial One left Celestia to try and mend this corruption that just keeps seeping through the Abyss…and that last trial character, the last role, the last form…is Paimon?

Hell, maybe the Sustainer is another split from Paimon (or Paimon is the little split, connected with a rainbow string up to the Heavens…) who’s job now is not slapping the wrists of Archons for abandoning their gnosis/jobs, or slamming more nails down, or punishing people for committing cardinal sins (we don’t talk enough about those, really), but instead they're keeping the sky from breaking, and stop anyone trying to leave Teyvat (for some reason).

On a side note, the Primordial One is making my brain turn to mush, because what is the deal with it???? Born of an egg with wings and a crown and androgynous, but for the world to be created, the shell of the egg had to be broken, and yet “Phanes” (quotation marks, cause ‘maybe’ feels like a weird thing to put in the sentiment of calling something from the recounting directly from Istaroth…) used the eggshell to separate the “universe” from the “microcosm of the world”. So either the egg never cracked and Teyvat is a dreamworld because we have to wake up Phanes to become real (and if Paimon is Phanes, her continuous dislike and skepticism of dreams and fantasies and absolute refusal of accepting such things for some reason when others are fine with it…is weird, especially when she’s chill with so many other things. Is it because of some weird dream-logic where the dreamer has build in defenses from realizing they dream to not wake up?? I genuinely don’t know, I have lucid dreams, I’m not sure how it usually works), or the egg cracked in some of the samsara (or in each one a little more, in different places) or because of the Second Who Came, and that’s why the abyss (the universe) is seeping into the dream, into Teyvat, and it’s corrupting it with nightmares and corrosion.

In the quest with the Pari, we found out in a document that the Khvarena and abyssal powers work the same way, using the same sort of energy, but have different results (paraphrasing from the back of my mind). And since the Khvarena is music (and so is the Aranara’s Sourcesong, and Remuria with their Phobos/Symphony), we could see Teyvat’s natural power that shapes it as lullabies, and the abyss is the nightmares that seep in from the outside, tarnishing everything it touches.

If Simulanka is the reflection of Teyvat, with its stars representing the people of “the real world”, then Teyvat is a reflection of reality, and the vision bearers (the prominent stars with specific roles and destinies) are a reflection of reality of someone else. The tracks that is destiny to keep the people of Metropolis safe was meant to protect until the people there grew strong enough to let go of it, returning the tracks back to the stars and live their lives on their own. And even if not everyone is ready, they’re not alone, and have to teamwork their way through life.

Maybe Teyvat’s constellations act the same way. Some people gain constellations to fulfill certain roles, and their vision are the training wheels to help them achieve these ambitions. But eventually they don’t need them. And so they go back to the sky. And some destinies can change, because stories follow rules, unfolding in cyclical patterns, but each should follow its own course...

…..

I lost my train of thought. Stormy weather truly messes with me.

[caramel1mochi]

Beau Idéal [Chamber x F! Reader] [End]

Sorry for the delay, I just yelled at the head doctor of a clinic. We're also done with Chamber!

I'm not sure where to go next with this, so, I'll be putting up a vote on my profile for three agents soon enough. Trust me, I'll elaborate more on that post instead of this one. If you guys wanna check that out or comment any of your ideas, feel free to do so! This simp train hasn't run out of fuel just yet.

Anyway, have a good read!

❤ฺ·。

Chamber x F! Reader

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

Genre: Fluff, but only if you squint really hard.

CW: Emotional manipulation, mental warfare, Geneva convention? Who's she?

Synopsis: Behind his poise façade lies an ocean of inhuman thoughts. This is the first time Chamber let his mask slip. And unfortunately, as the only witness; you happen to have a front-row seat.

。+❤ฺ·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ· +❤·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ·

Your teammates speaking through the radio irked you as you waited, but you couldn’t mute them. Brimstone would definitely pull you aside and at best, scold you. Being new and young in the protocol doesn’t mean you got away with everything. So keeping alert grew tougher and tougher the more they spoke, and you were practically hugging the wall in hopes of anything.

Then, two tiles scraped together.

In less then a second, you dropped your Stinger and lifted the ground; doing just as Chamber instructed you to do. Once you peeked, Neon shot a concussive blast in your direction, one that was swallowed by the soil that enveloped her within less than a second. Only bits of electricity escaped from the dirt, and the ‘chrysalis’ nearly fell apart once a spark hit your shoulder. You couldn't hold it up for too long either, given how massive it was. 

You watched it crumble, and only one idea came to mind.

Twisting your hands, the dirt began slowly rotating alongside your movements. And as you picked up speed, so did the chrysalis, until it began rapidly swirling around her and unintentionally wreaking havoc on the environment around it. 

This helped elevate some of the weight, but not too much.

‘I can’t hold this!’

You shouted over the radio, your arms shaking from the weight. And nothing relieved you more than the voice of the Frenchman.

‘I see it, is she inside?’

‘Yes!’

‘Make it smaller, inch by inch. Keep spinning it.’

As the loud wind filled your ears, it became more and more difficult to hear him. But you mindlessly obeyed and began dropping clumps and clumps of the soil, the chrysalis growing more constricted as it rapidly spun in place.

Chamber made his way towards it once it grew small enough to allow him an entrance, but still kept a safe distance between them. Just because the soil was a poor conductor doesn’t mean the electricity just disappeared; corrosion still existed. But god, was the sight hypnotising. The very idea of Neon being trapped within like prey helplessly swarmed by an army of ants, it was like art to him. ‘Avant-garde’ is what he’d prefer to call it.

Swirling the chrysalis was a contingency he’d never even thought about. But seeing it in action? He fell in love with the concept. And if there was less space between her and the dirt, there was a high chance the rapid speed would start tearing her skin off if it even grazed against her.

“Que ç'est beau.” <How beautiful.>

He murmured to himself.

Ah, but he was getting carried away. He unmuted the radio and snapped himself out of his trance. 

‘Drop it.’

Just as you obeyed, a loud bang echoed throughout the area, then a thud.

Chamber’s pupils dilated as he watched Neon’s corpse fall to the ground, crimson fluid escaping the hole in her head and seeping into the dirt. 

Then, the spike dropped.

His Headhunter disappeared with a flick of his wrist.

‘Bravo, A/N. What great potential you have. Such a shame nobody… taught you.’

As he spoke, he heard another thud from behind him, looking over to find your only hand, on the ground, fingers peeking through the doorway. Seems like you fainted too.

He walked up to your body and easily carried you with both arms. It was a given, considering your strength was naught compared to his. And for the next few seconds, he stared at your tired face. Sweat dripped down your chin, and your hair now incredibly messy; the braid unrecognisable.

He smiled to himself, almost as if he was belittling you in your coma.

If he couldn’t extort them for anything useful, Chamber would rank everyone mostly based on how much entertainment he could derive from them. And today, your powers amused him to an exceptional degree. How you scattered them like headless chickens before mercilessly crushing them. The icing on the cake being that you were under his authority the whole time.

It was just too easy.

‘Chamber, A/N, where the hell are you two?!’

Brimstone called out through the radio, only now noticing your disappearance. The noise back on A site had completely stopped a while ago, aside from the chatter of his colleagues. And he couldn’t hold back a smile as he unmuted.

‘Relax, Brimstone. The spike is with us. You have nothing to worry about.’

He carried you over his shoulder and turned towards said bomb, running today's events through his head with each step. Mostly the mirrors' slow deaths, but I digress.

❤ฺ·。

Your eyelids were weakly lifted, and you used your hand to shield your face from the strong lights above you. It took a few seconds for your hearing to catch up, muffled noises slowly morphing into familiar voices. And that’s not to consider the raging headache you currently had. Sage’s words became more obvious, and you slowly caught on that you were laying down on a hospital cot in the infirmary, which explained many things. No wonder the lightbulbs hurt like hell.

“...stabilising. Yes, she’s fine. She’s awake.”

Then, beeping. And you easily deduced it was from the heart monitor hooked up right next to you. You sat up and looked to your right, finding Sage who stood there alongside Jett and Raze. But just as you opened your mouth to speak, they pulled you into a tight hug, suffocating you.

“Oh my god, we thought you died!”

“I’m– I’m fine–”

“You should’ve seen your face when Chamber brought you back, A/N! You looked so pale!”

You pat their backs, struggling to breathe. Noticing this, Sage couldn’t help but politely laugh and usher them to break the embrace. They promptly complied, but not without Jett grabbing your shoulders angrily.

“Next time, don’t you dare split away from us! What will we ever do without our group baby?!”

You laughed, pushing her away.

“Even if I die, Sage can just res us, chill out!”

You looked at all three women with a smile, before something perked up in your mind. You quickly met Sage’s gaze.

“Where’s Chamber?”

“Chamber? He’s… I– I can’t recall where exactly. Would you like me to bring him over?”

“Yeah, yeah. I need to talk to him pronto.”

She nodded, stepping out of the room. Just like your friends, she was caught off guard by your sudden mention of him.

“Woah, hey, what the heck happened?”

You shook your head.

“I just gotta talk to him. He’s… uh, I forgot to tell him something important… about today.”

They both raised an eyebrow at this lie. But considering your frail state, even after Sage worked on healing you, they decided it was best to simply nod and go along.

And thus, they decided to accompany you for the remaining few minutes they had with you until the Frenchman would arrive. What weirded you out was why he wasn’t here with you. After everything that happened, there’s no way he could just leave you in the dust and leave, right? Nevertheless, you waited. And the more time ticked by, the more dread you felt as you remembered Neon, Sova and the rest. Though you couldn’t see her within the dirt you trapped her in, you could still feel the elongated terror you inflicted upon her before she was killed.

❤ฺ·。

The door swung open, all of your eyes landing on the tall silhouette that stood in the doorway. The light glimmered off of the tattoos, the only visible features on him despite the darkness that enveloped him.

He stepped forward, smiling.

“Good evening.”

He called out and walked towards you, your friends making way for him and both returning his greeting. But instead of leaving, they looked towards you for confirmation. And you simply nodded, allowing them to leave and slam the door shut, leaving you alone with him.

“Hey, where were you?”

“Brimstone took me in for questioning about your state.”

“Really? Wait, I can talk to him–”

You went to get up from the bed, but he quickly placed a hand on your shoulder and forced you to sit back down.

“Take it easy, ma chérie. You still have to rest.”

Yes, right. The ‘work’ that weakened you. The entire reason you called him over in the first place. 

You went to ask, but the words got stuck in your throat once he turned you to your side, sliding off the hair tie that held up your messy ‘braid’ together.

“You did a good job today, A/N. Impressive, even.”

You winced once you felt him open up the braid, letting your auburn hair come loose. 

“Good job? I don’t know about this...”

“Is something the matter?”

Then, his fingers ran through the locks of your hair. And you couldn’t help but feel an immense amount of unease, remembering the mission all over again.

“Chamber, I don’t want to kill anyone with my powers! I buried two today, and Neon got suffocated in that ball before you shot her! I don’t want to do anything like that again!”

“I see. So, you do not wish to cause harm?”

“Not like that. If I'm gonna kill someone, I don’t want to make them suffer.”

It should be a given, right? Though you were going off of your natural empathy, It probably violated the Geneva convention, to torture someone before killing them. If anyone here even bothered to take a look at that. Didn’t Neon fake a surrender once? But from the looks of things, it seemed like Chamber was one of the ones who had the convention’s rules memorised like the back of his hand. And it wasn’t for a virtuous reason.

“You worry about nothing, ma chérie, they most likely died once the soil fell on them. Head trauma is not to be taken lightly.”

“I guess, but what about Neon?”

“Please. You hardly did anything. When it comes to pain, I believe your abilities are less debilitating than the others.”

You paused.

“What does that mean?”

“Being burned alive is no easy way to go either, A/N. And yet, Phoenix is one of your dear friends, non?”

His hands worked on smoothing out your hair, untangling it.

“And Raze seldom hides her excitement when she tosses around explosions. How many did she maim with her bombs? I can only imagine their pain before Sage helped them.”

He began dividing your hair into three sections, each one intertwined between his fingers. Then, he began braiding.

“Not to mention Reyna, who outright takes joy in what she does. And Viper, and Breach, and Yoru, and…”

“Okay, okay, I get it!”

He chuckled. Both of you knew that you were now completely cornered. Behind your back, Chamber scrutinised you like a lab rat. Not a single hint of humanity behind those dead eyes. The dead eyes you thankfully had no clue of. Or anybody, for that matter.

“I simply find your concerns silly, A/N. However, if you wish to go back to building walls, then who am I to stop you?”

Chamber spent the next few seconds braiding the last remaining portion of your hair, before bringing all of them together at the end and tying it all with your hair tie. Once he let go, he gently ran his fingers through it. And as expected, no imperfections in his work were found. Though, admittedly, he considered himself rusty when it came to styling hair, so this was a pleasant surprise.

He knew he left your mental state in turmoil, rapidly working to decide whether or not you wanted to go down the path he offered, or work around as a glorified wall building maid in the battlefield. Between causing destruction your mental state could hardly handle, or being incredibly passive. It seemed like there was no balance.

“This was fun, but I must get going.”

“Wait, Chamber!”

You called out and stopped him in his tracks, quickly turning to look at him. Though, by now, his back faced you. And he waited for you to continue. Nervously, you held your fixed braid with both hands, playing with it.

“Still up for, uh, being my boss?”

Juxtaposed to your insecure smile, Chamber’s was full of confidence the moment those words left your mouth.

Perfect. 

Just like all of the others, you crawled back to him. How could he not be pleased? And with a sense of triumph even you could see exuded from him, he walked towards you and patted your shoulder twice, the same way a proud father would.

“Certainly.”

[picathartidae]

Oooh! Tell me about Where the Sun Greats the Sea! ^__^

A very long answer incoming, many apologies!

So I have this homebrew D&D setting (called Asherah's Scar) I’ve been working on for actual years, and in my eternal quest to flesh it out, I have written several stories set in different time periods within this universe.

This one is actually a retelling of an ancient creation myth, that goes over a conflict between the old gods (two gods, known as 'She Who Walks the Sea' and 'He Who Dances in Fire') and the first dragon (eventually revealed to be my version of a D&D god called Tharizdun), leading to the creation of the world, and later gives a mythological explanation for a supervolcanic eruption back in the very early days of the world existing — thus leading to humans spreading out across the world rather than staying on that archipelago where they originated. And a bunch of other things.

He Who Dances and She Who Walks are the gods of the Sun and Sea respectively, and they’re generally portrayed as lovers, hence the ending line of the whole thing being; “And on the cusp of day and night do the lovers meet; at the edge of the world, where the Sun greets the Sea”, which is where the title comes from.

At the moment, it’s really just a plot outline and bits and pieces of dialogue. But! Rather than a snippet, I can just give you a full plot synopsis (because let’s face it, this is very esoteric world building that I’m writing for reference and never posting anywhere).

The myth comes in two parts; the first being the initial conflict between the old gods and Tharizdun, which ends with He Who Dances drawing out the 'fires of the earth' to bury the dragon and save the multiverse from destruction as the world is being created. This is obviously a metaphor for a volcanic eruption that ultimately formed the island chain, hence why the world is called "Asherah's Scar", because it's the scars of land left behind from that godly conflict on the ocean (the name Asherah literally means 'she who walks in the sea', by the way, it's all very detailed and complicated).

The second part of the myth is a second volcanic eruption that forced humanity to leave the archipelago and settle the rest of the world.

Basically, an ill-advised revenge plot by a traumatised man leads to the spirit of He Who Dances in Fire getting corrupted, the resurrection of the dragon, and everything under His jurisdiction (the sun, fire, life, volcanos, etc) goes completely out of whack. Creatures get corrupted into weird fire demons, the ocean gets set on fire, every volcano in this huge chain of volcanic islands explodes all at once, everything is ash and the air is poison, the works.

Since this all nearly destroys the world, again, She Who Walks has to take mortal form to figure out what the hell happened, which involves Her sort of taking over an actual human girl because that's the only way gods can interact with the mortal plane in my setting. From there it's an ongoing quest to 1) save what remains of He Who Dances -- the disparate fragments of which have taken over a young man -- and 2) get the dragon and its corrosive spirit as far away from the Material Plane as possible, since they can't destroy it.

They succeed in saving creation, but destroy the archipelago in the process. And as the survivors flee the islands, the two kids who got taken over by She Who Walks and He Who Dances are completely subsumed into the respective gods and they disappear into the ash as the gods leave the Material Plane themselves.

It's all bundled up in a framing device of a woman telling a bunch of kids this, as they are sailing to find new lands to settle on, in wake of the whole disaster.

And that's Where the Sun Greets the Sea! It is bonkers and I apologise profusely.

[weirdcat1213]

volume 12 already? damn that went fast. just yesterday we were crying about vash drinking in a church

anyway :D volume 12 thoughts time

chap 1:

-chronicaaaaaaaaa :3

-AW NO MY BABY

-these quiet panels are the fucking best/worst thing that have ever happened to me

-too many memories :c

-YES LINA IS THERE THANK GOD (at the same time this is heartbreaking as fuck)

-all the enemies after all the people he has ever loved/helped

-HIS MOM AND HIS BF

-THATS IT THATS THE ONE THATS THE PANEL OH GOD WE ARE *HERE*

-im gonna go cry now

-i wonder what "anti plant" entails...is it a special material?

-ok fine, chronica can call knives a terrorist. she gets a pass

-oh sweet geesus

-eh?

-oohhhhhh.....ok fuck

-nothing can stop the hatred of this man. kinda admirable but as the song says "your misery and hate will kill us all"

chap 2:

-"corrosive thunder", love the title

-OH SHIT DOMINA NO, pls dont let him get to you

-DOMINA NOOOOOO

-the plants kinda look in pain there....

-MY GIRLSSSSSSSSSS

-for pain purposes, i choose to believe that when they resonate they hum like vash did in stampede

-aaand shes gone

-oh god, the end of evangelion flashbacks

-OH NIGHTOW YOU SON OF A BISCUIT- THOSE EYES IN THE BACKGROUND-

-tbh everything in your ship just being consumed by someone else so quickly must be scary af. nothing belongs to them anymore and soon, chronica could even loose herself

chap 3:

-oh shit oh fuck oh shit

-oh shit not thors hammer

-omg look! the laws of physics!

-noooo :c we dont get to know domina too much but its still sad

-OH?

-MAGIC BULLETS TIME BABYYYYYYYYYYY

-ohhhhhhh okok i get it

chap 4:

-THATS MY BOIIIIIIIIIII

-AH SHIT IVE JUST NOTICED THE HAIR

-ALSO PLS DONT SMILE LIKE THAT-

-childish is a good word for it cuz knives just doesnt want to accept hes wrong and scared

-THE POWER OF LOVE AND PEACE BITCH

-is vash pausing cuz even though his plan was to kill knives hes kinda sad that knives wants to kill him? i may never know

-let him use his fucking gun ok? hes an expert. also i like to think he uses it to stay grounded. like to stay with the people hes fighting with. hes not superior or anything

-TO YOUR KNEES BITCH TO YOUR FUCKING KNEES

-THATS MY FUCKING GUNMAN THATS MY SON RIGHT THERE

chap 5:

-FLASHBACK TIME LETS GO

-omg right it hated this. hes just a baby :c

-so vash left with a stranger? i forgot about that

-honey just be glad YOU ARE ALIVE

-BECAUSE HES VASH THE STAMPEDE- i should rewatch that episode huh

-GEESUS BRO

-tbh vash, you should have. then and now

-YEAH TELL HIM VASH >:D YOU ARENT NAIVE

-tbh i would also think thats enough to break the chain. hmm

-"stay with me" vash pls i cant jump into the void rn

-GEESUS CHRIST, the cleanest cut in the west

-also you think vash made that face cuz the last time he made someone bleed was rem-

-THE CLOSEUP TO THE MOUTHS AHHHHHHHHHHH

-"we dont belong in the future of this planet" dont fucking say that

chap 6:

-actually wanting to humans to talk with plants is a great step for improving their relationship but sure knives, whatever

-THATS SO TRUE VASH LETS GO, LET THE PLANTS HAVE A SAY IN IT

-ive said this before but as someone who was mocked by wanting context before judging people, vash is so...reassuring. like it wasnt wrong of me to want to know all the sides of one story. im glad

-also i completely forgot about that town and radiation. how tf radiation happens in that planet, what am i missing

-oh nvm, thanks nightow

-HES NOT EXCUSING, HES EXPLAINING OMFG YOU IDIOT

-YEAH FUCKING TELL HIM >:D POP OFF VASH >:D

-WHY IS IT THEN? HUH KNIVES?- oh shit what

-yknow what, ill give knives the fact that humans are ignorant and we are repeating history etc etc, but im done. finish him vash

-for some reason this reminds me to that scene with the soldiers in ep 12. my man really cant catch a break

-YEAH THE GIRLSSSSSSSSSSSS :D

-"you've been abandoned" maybe by some but not by everyone. and thats the whole point

-YEAH YOU ARENT BABY ILY

-HOLD UP IS THAT HER FACE?????

-awww :c

chap 7:

-IS IT LIVIO TIME????

-YO WTF, WHO SHOT MY GIRL

-ofc the military would be like this

-i literally cant say whos bleeding

-ah fuck ok

-ugh no...pls dont tell me hes fucking bleeding through his eyes...pls dont (if i see stampede vash bleeding like that i will eat my pc piece by piece)

-chronica :c

-LIVIOOOOOOOOO :0

-OMG YES, YES, IM SO HAPPY. quoting 98 "and i know in my heart he would have done the same"

-MR. VASH, MR. LIVIO AWWW :3

-OH HES SPINNING THOSE FUCKERS :D

-oh well thats not fair, hes too cool

-wait why is knives not wanting to kill vash bad?

chap 8:

-considering the blockers chronica has, entering a fused entity must be scary but also exciting

-ngl i dont get the spikes on the screen thing

-geesus

-WTF YOU DID TO HIM???

-wait no i want to see whats happening with vash- and its livio time

-oh hes alive thank god (this is my 2nd read why am i surprised)

-OH NO ITS THAT MOMENT OH NNONONONO STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME

-i hate seeing his eyes like that if im being honest, its scary

-ESO MAMONAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA GET UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUP

-LIVIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

-OH SHIT its my wife

-OH WAIT MY OTHER WIFE IS HERE TOO

-VASH WHY ARE YOU MAKING THAT FACE

-OH GOD NOT LEGATO AND THE RUSSIAN DOLL

-CAN SHIT STOP HAPPENING FOR A MINUTE

-THERES TOO MANY PEOPLE HERE CAN YALL CALM THE FUCK DOWN

chap 9:

-omg its the legato episode

-what is happening, what am i looking at

-oh oh shit

-RIGHT IN HIS MF EYE

-what is happening?

-ok flashback time

-yeap. its that time. shit

-geesus fucking christ. tbh ofc legato would think knives is right. there was nothing to prove him wrong

-yeap. i would do the same actually. stomp on his head

-oh honey...honey thats gay-

-is that why he has short hair...cuz knives gave him a name AND A HAIR STYLE??

-damn son

-also i may be wrong but where do people get the idea he inserted metal in his own brain to have those powers?/gen

[karizard-ao3]

My reactions to Evangelion episode 13: Angel Infiltration

Actually, if I have the mental capacity I might watch one more after this one so I can finish the disc, but we shall see!

Ritsuko is a good multitasker.

I like that the Magi are in fact all named after the Magi.

I haven't mentioned it until now- Hold on. I was just about to say something about Ritsuko being amoral (probably because scientist), but what's this about her mother? Are the supercomputers... Are they powered by human brains preserved in some kind of jelly? I'm rewinding.

I am still completely befuddled but this is very interesting!!!

An ultra-sterile room, you say?

These poor naked teenagers.

Oh, maybe Ritsuko's mother built the Magi? Ah, I see. She got them started.

If Shinji becomes a bad person my heart will break. Just thinking.

Is Rei having a panic attack?

No, her Eva has been infected with corrosion!

The corrosion is an Angel...?

The Angels are trying to get to Adam, then?

Now there's a hacker? Is the Angel the hacker, then?

This is very exciting.

I was wondering if it was nanobots but I didn't want to say I was wondering if it was nanobots because I wasn't sure that was something they had. But it was nanos!

Ritsuko is very attached to the Magi.

Okay, so I'm thinking her mother's brain is not literally powering the Magi.

Wait. Personality transplant? Maybe I wasn't so wrong.

This is also giving me more insight into the Evas. I wonder whose personalities they used for the Evas?

HER FUCKING BRAIN! OMG!

I don't think it's her real brain, though.

It worked!

In Conclusion

With all the religious imagery, I really do think that there's got to be a "playing god" element here. I'm not trying to get too committed to any personal theories, but I really feel like things are pointing to the Angels being man-made. I mean, fuck. Look at that fetus, Adam, for the Human Instrumentality project. They're for sure up to something beyond the scope of mortal men.

Okay, so we're seeing a bit more of how they integrate human and machine. I feel like there's something about this lingering just at the edge of my mind but I can't really put it into words. I guess it's kind of got this tower of babel feel, in a way? Humans are trying to climb too high and it's going to end up blowing up in their faces (or maybe it already has).

And whose personalities did they use for the Evas?? Is Shinji's Eva made out of his mother's? His mother never even gets mentioned, so I don't know why I would think that, but I feel like there's going to be some gut punch moment about Shinji's mom.

Anyway, I am indeed going to finish out the disc, and then I don't know if I'll keep watching later or be done for the night.