#humanity's last bastion

[queeniesofia]

*rocking in the corner* but if you say axl low beats gojo satoru without prep time, society.. society goes WILD…

[gorgynei]

to be honest just knowing that aeor had refugees, likely hundreds of thousands of them, is already making me throw doubt on the prime deities. im not sure theres really any good explanation to completely destroy aeor like that other than pure self preservation on the side of the gods. if i was just some random exandrian and i learned that from ludinus.... yeah id say fuck the gods too. very keen to see what else there is to learn

[sergeifyodorov]

if oilersleafs cup final was real Im pretty sure the country would explode. we wouldnt survive this

this is what we deserve god bless

[revasserium]

I suck at writing friends to lovers or anything where a relationship wasn't / hasn't been really established. Like, I jump straight into awkward feelings and blurred lines. Any tips for fleshing things out more?

oKAY so -- friends to lovers is one of my FAV TROPES bc it just *clenches fists* has UNLIMITED potential to either be the most whOLESOME shIT or SUPER GODDAMN AnGSTY.

right but, i think the most important thing is to establish the basis of the friendship first (at least imo). for me, friendship (at least the GOOD, TRUE kind) is always a kind of comfort, a certain level of familiarity with each other. and there are things that show that in text:

inside jokes

(lovingly) shitting on each other (one of my FAV TROPES!!! see: iwaoi)

physical touch

emotional vulnerability

etc etc etc

and i think esp for the FRIENDS aspect of this, there's nothing better than looking at your own life and your own frienships -- how do you act around your closest friends? what walls do you take down when they're around? how do you talk differently? how do you move around them?

start there, and take stock of those things. and then, translate them to the characters ur writing! and boom, you have the "friendship" part down.

if you want to go even further back and detail the beginnings of friendship -- the one thing to keep in mind is that usually friendships start because you share something in common with another person and then you bond over it right. so -- i have friends who are all writers, i have friends who went to the same college i did, i have friends i met through my bf but we all love fuckin drinking good wine and eating good food so we send each other insta reels of all the newest restaurants that we wanna try in town --

again, look at how your own friendships start, and transpose that into the story.

do your characters meet at school? in the library? on a crowded subway station when it's fucking 98 degrees outside and they're both so damn tired of the day but there's a dude screaming into his phone standing way too close and they catch each otehrs eyes and roll their eyes at the same time???? like -- commonality brings people together. shared experiences and honestly shared suffering brings ppl together too.

mOST of my best friends are my best friends bc we're all shady as fuck together. LMAO. use that. take that and put it into your story.

that's what builds a solid foundation and then -- you already know the rest :) the blurred lines, the awkward feelings -- the ????? WTF WAIT DO I LIKE THIS PERSON ?!?!??!???!

yeah, the gUD stuff.

anyway!!! i hope this helped! :D

[teacuppigdog]

all the adverts on tumblr these days are trying to get me to go out and date people. like. actually I came to this website to be a weird recluse

[esperhood]

i was talking about the world with fer and it is sort of both very funny and very sad that like...dislyte takes in a post - apocalyptic world, obviously. humanity is overtly going extinct, huge percentages of the world's population ( up to 50%!! ) have been wiped out, there are a handful of cities still surviving but most major metropolitan areas are destroyed, and that's not even getting into any place that didn't have the infrastructure in place to defend when the miracles attacked — some rural places extremely far removed from the miracles are okay, but most rural towns are just...gone. and miracles just pop up randomly sometimes — thinking about gaius's trailer, and how a normal day in the city gets fucking wrecked — so even if you are in one of the well - protected cities like utgard, there's always a nonzero that another miracle just pops up and destroys everything.

and everyone just sorta...keeps on keepin' on! the average person's day to day concern is about going to the salon or the movies. there are still elections and ballets. the average dude is much more concerned with getting to work on time. and it's just sort of funny that humanity is rapidly going extinct and there's no real infrastructure in place to prevent that — the esper union and the shadow decree are trying, in their own ways — and the average dude is like. Anyway. Who Wants To Go On This Fancy Cruise With Me!

[frostpepper]

[munch-mumbles]

while im here i have more exodus thoughts im SO CONFLICTED ON IT. more in tags as per use

[legionofmyth]

MUTANT: Elysium - Your Judicator

🎲 Master your role as a judicator in MUTANT: Elysium tabletop RPG. Make crucial decisions, shape destinies, and explore a post-apocalyptic world! #MUTANTElysium #TabletopRPG #FreeLeaguePublishing #TTRPG #RPG

MUTANT: Year Zero – [PDF]MUTANT: Elysium – [PDF]Master your role as a judicator in MUTANT: Elysium tabletop RPG. Make crucial decisions, shape destinies, and explore a post-apocalyptic world! Experience the post-apocalyptic world of MUTANT: Elysium, the tabletop RPG by Free League Publishing. Set in the same universe as MUTANT: Year Zero, this gripping roleplaying game plunges players into a…

[gaypeoplemusic]

I finished disco elysium yesterday and I didn’t Feel as much as I expected (aside from Awe and statisfaction and Many Thoughts) but I just put this banger on and immediately started crying so

[hrokkall]

You were created by humans to protect. They died, so you continued to protect—protect everything they hold dear. You rest in the corners of hell that make mockeries of their holy places and tell yourself that you, you are the last bastion of everything they held dear. You are more than a machine, you fight like man—with honor—as you still bow before the thing that claims to be you. It fights like a dog, and you flee. You can't bring yourself to go back and see what has become of the temple.

You have a new purpose now. If it seeks to destroy, you will give it destruction. You use everything that humanity taught you to create, study the curvatures of their statues to weld together a new arm out of the remains of a sentry you mangled (what a worthless, worthless warmachine—knowing nothing but itself) resembling their own. You settle, once again, in a faux temple—this one of golden stone—and you wait.

It arrives. Of course it does. And you rend it apart. Piece by bloody piece. You take apart everything that you hate, hate, hate. It takes until your chest is dented in for the red haze in your vision to clear, to realize the scrap lining the floor is your own.

So you flee. Not in cowardice—you are not human enough for cowardice, you have always known this—but for the most mechanical thought of self-preservation. You flee and it follows, and some sinking feeling knows that the only thing the two of you feel is hunger.

You were never human, nor did you truly seek to protect anything but yourself. You will never know peace, for you were nothing more than a leftover of war.

It hardly matters. You were created by humans to die—and you die like the machine you are.

[senualothbrok]

Love and beauty

Summary: A few days after Astarion has taken you to his grave, you are lying in bed together. You decide it's time to make a confession.

Musings on beauty, love and death.

Word count: 1.3k

Non-18+. Astarion x female Tav. Non-ascended Astarion. References to bereavement.

AO3 link

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You are lying on your side, looking at Astarion.  Here at the Elfsong Tavern, morning is rousing from its slumber. You are cocooned in the bed you have shared with him since the night he took you to his grave. The sheets are warm and soft beneath you, and in their burgundy shadows, his skin glows like porcelain. He lies on his back, his silver eyelashes fanning out below his closed eyes like silk. His crown is a white maze of waves. Just recently you have noticed the faint threads which form around his mouth and eyes when he laughs, slight indents where his eyebrows meet his nose when he is focused. And sometimes, barely perceptible dimples dance on his cheeks.

You never tire of looking at him. There is always something new to see, and you never know how long you have left to see it.

“I can feel you staring at me.” A lazy eye opens and fixes on you. “Has no one ever told you that it’s rude to stare?”

There is mischief in his smile, and you return it. You run your fingers over his collarbone. He shifts his chin closer to your hand.

“I can’t help it.”

He stretches, long and languid, a fang peeking out on his lower lip.

“I know, darling.” He turns onto his side to face you. “It’s why you’re here. You can’t get enough of my devastating beauty.”

The words carry no edge. He is still himself, not the masked imitation. He twirls his fingers around a strand of your hair as it caresses your shoulder.

“You are devastatingly beautiful, it’s true.” You play with a curl at his temple, tracing the edge of his ear. You consider for a moment. “But you know, all of that… it only goes so far.”

“Oh?” He regards you quizzically.

“Well…” You turn the thoughts over in your mind. “I’m human, Astarion. Even humans blessed with devasting, soul-crushing beauty, like yours – most of us don’t live that long. We get old and grey. We get wrinkles.”

He scrunches his nose. You laugh.

“I know, disgusting, those wrinkles. But when you have to contend with ageing, and with death… it’s different.”

You are not sure he understands what you are saying. You yourself are not entirely sure.

You nuzzle your nose into his. He slides his arm under your head, circling it around your shoulder. You curl into his chest. There is a silence, but it is so light, like being bathed in morning sun.

Maybe it is because every day draws you closer to the Netherbrain. Or maybe it is because he has shown you where he died, and has shared with you his rebirth. Now, you feel the last bastion inside you can come down. This last pearl you have hidden from him, you can now give, trusting he will not cast it away.

“I had a husband once,” you say.

You have not spoken about him for a long time. It surprises you that it does not hurt anymore to mention him. To remember.

“It was a lifetime ago now. He was beautiful too, when we met. Though nowhere near as beautiful as you.” You brush your lips across Astarion’s skin. “He was smart. He had a way with words. And he was kind.”

You are relieved that Astarion does not say anything. He does not tense in shock or anger. There is no judgment. He only listens, holding you.

“He actually looked a lot like Gale. Sometimes when he speaks, Gale even sounds like him.”

Astarion bristles at this. “So you’re telling me that one of our travelling companions, one of our closest allies and friends, is the spitting image of the love of your life? And you’re telling me this, why?”

You are not entirely surprised by his reaction. And maybe you find it endearing that Astarion could feel even a prickling of jealousy about a man you loved and lost so long ago. You chuckle, reaching up to kiss him lightly on the curve of his jaw. He eases with a huff.

“This isn’t the point of my story.”

“Well, you best get to it soon,” he shoots back, but he does not pull back his embrace.

There is a softness, a playfulness, to his irritation. You nibble his ear lobe gently and he sighs. He waits. You go on.

“He was a lot older than me. When he got sick, I took care of him. He died in his sleep. I laid him to rest. By that point, he was an old man. And he’d lived a good life.”

You remember your husband’s face through a haze. His papery skin, so thin you could tear it by mere touch. Frosted hazel eyes, and snaking veins on hands that you clasped so tightly against your wet face after he had breathed his last. The years of love that had filled the hole he left, buoying you through the grief.

“There’s something about that kind of love. Through age, and sickness, and everything in between. The long and boring days. The petty arguments. The stupid things we joked about. Everything we shared together.”

You heart fills as you speak of him. There is no more sorrow when you think of him now, only gratitude.

“I loved him till the end. That kind of love - it went well beyond his beauty.”

Astarion is quiet and still for a long time. When he moves back to look at you, you cannot read his gaze.

“But I won’t age,” he says. “I won’t die.”

You nod.

“I’ll be like this forever.”

“Forever beautiful, forever young.” You glance at the scars and ripples of your flesh, and you cannot help but feel a pang of envy.

He frowns. In the pause that follows, you wonder where he has gone. You wish he could take you with him.

“How will I know, then?” he asks suddenly.

“Know what?”

“How will I know…” He struggles, as though each word is a heavy load. He clears his throat. “How will I know what kind of love it is?”

There is an emptiness in his eyes now, like a kind of sadness. A loss. You reach out and press your palm to his heart.

“Are you asking me whether I would still love you-“

“If I wasn’t beautiful.” He grimaces. “If I was old and grey, or sick, or…” He trails off briefly. “If I had wrinkles. Like Gale.”

You laugh, and you see that it gives him comfort. Because Astarion still cannot help but mask a plea with a jibe.

“What do you think?” you ask.

He hesitates. His eyes caress your face, drinking in every detail, every line and curve, every shadow and blemish. A balm spreads through you as he sees you, just as you see him, since the very first time you promised to be his mirror. You know he can see your answer.

But he is uncertain, and he is still afraid.

“Without a doubt, Astarion,” you breathe.

He turns away. You wait. It no longer weighs on you when he withdraws. You know now that he will always return. You will give him time, now. You will give him space. He will come back when he is ready.

But then, so abruptly, he clasps you against him. You are enveloped in the coolness of his skin, the warm wetness of his mouth, the blanket of his body around you. The moment is a world in itself, swirling and gathering and expanding, holding you fast.

It ends as it began. You lie there, tracing circles in each other’s souls. Morning has broken, and muffled voices are bustling through the bedroom walls. Slowly, you edge to the side of the bed, and he rises to join you.

“I don’t think he was the love of my life, by the way.” You say it like an afterthought, but it is not.

“I damn well hope not,” he counters, sharp and fast.

But the gentleness in his gaze tells you all you need to know.

---

Liked this fic? You can find more of my work here.

[grendraws]

A face shaded and backlit by the moon. She leers at you from the shadows. Eyes reflect the moon above, lanterns deep in the dark.

Of course, last but most certainly not least. The werewolf. A vastly misunderstood creature here in The Veil. Bastions of transformation, of change. Which are they truly? The man or the wolf? This is our very own werewolf, our beautiful Moonwalker. She is both human and animal, giver and taker, benevolent and destroyer. All at once.

[starryficsfinishwen]

picnic days and sundays — gray raven x reader

Summer was kinder.

Warm sunshine through the gaps of trees, tiny birds perched on tree branches singing their lovely songs. Sunlight kisses your face as you look at the green foliage above you. You watch. You watch as a leaf falls so slowly in this space, visible veins as the rays of light pass through.

It lands on your cheek. And a familiar hand comes into view, gently brushing it away.

“Commandant,” Bright eyes peer to look at you, pink irises glimmering in the sunshine, “Are you awake?”

You remember it this way: sleeping soundly in the shade, the smell of warm grass, the lull of the summer wind on your bare feet. And now, you are on Liv's lap, mechanical hands wrapped around your own.

Liv's petiteness perfectly cradled your sleeping figure. Was it the cool breeze, or did her hands, once clad in gloves, somehow feel warm as you held hers? A fleeting kind, one that made you reach out for more.

“Mmh...” you inhale, eyes fluttering shut as you feel the remnants of sleep coming again, “No...not yet.”

You notice a broader figure blocking out the bright light through your closed eyes. Opening your eyes, a figure draped in the gentle colors of blue comes into view.

“Sorry,” cooed Lee, voice devoid of any trace of roughness, “The sun must have been preventing you from sleeping.”

Lee's stoicism faded away in this space. Devoid of any armor and metal, you notice the new clothes as a new sight, yet the warm twinkle in his cerulean eyes makes your heart throb.

“It's okay,” you giggle, reaching for Lee's hand, “I feel better.”

“You should eat up, Commandant,” said a honeyed voice, “At least you'd get to eat something yummy!”

A metal finger caresses your chin. Looking above you, hazel eyes looking at you with love.

“Lucia,” you grin, “What's there for me, then?”

Your summer comes that way. Lee helps you sit up, with Liv and Lucia preparing the food they've brought. Across the patterned cloth, a variety of treats are displayed for you. The colors—purple, red, blue, and more—popping through, which made your stomach want a taste. Seeing you drool, Lucia graciously takes a slice out of one in her view.

“Would you like this, Commandant?” She asks,

A blueberry tart, the bluest you've ever seen. When you try to reach for it, Live gently slaps your hand away.

“In moderation, Commandant.” She tuts, “I can't have you overeating.”

“Don't worry about it, Liv,” Lee laughs, “The Commandant can't possibly be overweight within a day with these.”

Taking a strawberry from the pile, Lee dips it halfway into the chocolate fondue, before taking it to your lips, “Say 'ah' for me.”

With a bite, you taste the freshness of the strawberry, seeping into your parched tongue. A burst of sweetness dances wildly in your mouth, making you sigh from the taste.

“That's true,” Liv pouts, “But I want the Commandant to be healthy as always...”

“It'd be a shame if I can't taste what you've prepared for us, Liv.” You smiled, chewing the remaining strawberry as you pat her hand, “Let's have fun today.”

You want this kind of freedom. Somewhere, across the world—no Babylonia, no one to give you orders, and no one ruining your peace. You are perfectly contented this way, away from their eyes and only with your beloved family.

Family...

“If you think of it that way, I suppose we are one.”

You turn to find Lee looking at the sunset. You forget how much time has passed, or the sweets and delicacies you've consumed. Except now, Lucia and Liv are putting away the plates and cleaning up the mess.

“Lee?”

“A family.” Lee affirms, turning to look at you with a gentle look on your face, “We are...a family, right?”

You sigh. “We are. But...this war against time, against humanity and its efforts to come back...”

You think. The war is never over; millions of corrupted still run amock in your lands, humanity's last bastion who still floats somewhere in space—will it be any worth?

“I understand your fear.”

Lee's logic is never wrong. So was his calculated reply. But as you look back to Liv and Lucia, something crawls over you, latching at whatever vein you had in your chest.

“If there comes a time,” you quietly mutter, “Do you...still consider this as a family?”

Lucia is the first to look at you. Blissfully unaware, you hope neither of them heard you.

“I-”

“Commandant, did you have fun today?” Lucia finds comfort in the way you reach out to hold her hand, “If you weren't satisfied, we'll find a new thing to do again next time.”

“I had fun, Lucia.” You grin at her, hoping your sincerity is noticeable enough, “I loved the blueberry tart at best.”

“Lee, Liv, and I made it with you in mind,” she said as she blushes, “We're glad you loved it.”

Noticing the sun almost setting, you ask, “Does it mean we're going home now?”

“The fun isn't over yet.” Lee shakes his head, offering a smile, “Today isn't done.”

The smell of something warm. Looking back, you find Liv with a cup.

“Commandant,” She calls out your name, softly, “I hope today ends nicely.”

It's a cup of hot chocolate. You remember it as something the four of you had done the other day. Taking the cup from her, the anxiety in your chest starts to calm down. Watching your three members laugh and talk as the sun sets behind you, the bittersweet taste of chocolate on your tongue.

You would do everything to stay by their side.

“I promise I'll do better.” You blurt out, catching their attention, “I'm...not going to give up. I'll stay alive, I'll do everything for you, guys.”

Tears threaten to spill from your weary eyes, yet you still dare to smile at them. “We are the Gray Raven, and we're a...family.”

Your team—your Gray Raven—smiles back. Lucia is the first to hug you, following Liv. Briefly taking away the shaking cup in your hands, Lee hugs you. In a layer, like a glove, your tears began to fall from your eyes as your team hugs you tighter.

“You're doing so well, Commandant.” Lucia said, “You're the reason why we're here today.”

“That's really true,” chides Liv, “Without you, there wouldn't be an 'us'.”

“We'll save you, the same way you've saved us, too.” said Lee, “as long as you promise to stay alive, too.”

Peace is temporary, yet it seems to be forever in this space. Summer must have been kinder for you this time. Maybe this picnicon a Sunday wasn't too bad.

As long as you stay alive, too. Isn't that summer so pretty with them?

kuro keep my babies (and husband) safe or I'll throw these hands

(also did you notice my new format? hehehe)

—starry

[thedreadvampy]

I mean fundamentally the thing about Israel/Palestine that makes people uncomfortable is not that "it's complicated" it's that it's extremely fundamentally morally simple, it's just difficult

there is not a morally acceptable solution that will be accepted by the expansionist Israeli government or its allies in Europe and America

the balance of power has remained basically the same since Balfour handed the country over. Israel has the power to displace and kill Palestinians without accountability because it's backed by the majority of major world powers. there's fundamentally no back and forth of power. Palestine and its people were sold from the control of the British to the control of Israel for the political convenience of a bunch of people on different continents. there's no retribution or wrestle for power. Israel has had power over Palestine for decades and Palestine, despite Palestinians occupying the land for millennia, has never had power over Israel.

the fundamentals of the situation are discomforting because Israel is in many ways the last surviving bastion of the type of turn-of-the-century colonialism which the contemporary economy of Britain, America and much of the West is rooted in.

that's why the media and political classes are so invested in the Israeli party line - not because Israel ~controls the media~ or whatever but because the fundamental existence of Israel is the interests of the British ruling class, for example. It is in the interests of the British ruling class that we accept as a basic precept that there are Civilised and Uncivilised nations, and that it is right and good and natural that the Civilised nations should be able to decide the fates of the Uncivilised nations, for their own profit, without brooking any complaint from the Uncivilised Peoples. The structure of Western capitalism requires, as well, that we accept that any number of deaths and any amount of suffering among the Uncivilised Peoples is an acceptable price to pay for the comfort of Civilised Peoples. That's why the media classes are more interested in pearl clutching that somebody slashed up a hack painting of a famously antisemitic and genocidal British lord than in the loss of swathes of priceless and irreplaceable artworks, historical relics and Human Fucking Lives in Gaza.

it isn't complicated. it's just uncomfortable because fundamentally it lays bare the basic reality of colonial capitalism, and generally we in the UK are sort of trying to pretend we're over that whole thing even though we're obviously not, politicians just try to be a bit less obvious about it. so it's discomforting to people to be faced with the rawness of Israel's open colonialism, and so those who can't or don't want to divest from Britain's own ongoing colonial endeavours end up tying themselves in knots trying to justify why it's Fine Actually.

while obviously Israel is a Zionist project so it can no more be decoupled from Judaism than the British empire is decoupled from Christianity, the conflation of Jewishness and Israel is a mostly irrelevant (and harmful) distraction from the underlying Problem With Israel, which is that it's an incredibly 19th century European style of colony in 21st century Asia, and the nature, consistency and ferocity of its colonial project has been pretty unchanged for like 3-4 generations.

but it's a very successful distraction because

a) a lot of people do actually hate Jews a whole bunch so yeah antisemitism is a genuine and legitimate fear, but it doesn't connect to the core issues of genocide, oppression and colonialism (and conflating Israel with Jewishness does play into existing antisemitic ideas of the Jewish perpetual foreigner and perpetual dual loyalty)

b) people want it to be complicated. They don't want it to be simple in a way that would create discomfort for them. We don't want to acknowledge that to free Palestine we'd have to take a hit to our own economies by not selling arms to Israel. We don't want to acknowledge that what's practiced openly in Israel is the same structure of systemic injustice underpinning almost all British and American foreign affairs, but with more of a veil over it. We don't want to challenge the underlying assumption that there are those who should rule and those who should be ruled over. But with the assertion that Israel=Jewishness, and the rewriting of history to say there's an Endless Cycle of Violence on Both Sides, Who Can Say Where It Started Really, you're off the hook! It's Complicated! Who Can Really Say?

(this Who Can Really Say thing is fascinating in itself. It's not like it's ancient history! it's been slightly over a century since the birth of the Israeli project! you can look it up! we have the news articles! we have the correspondence! this is my grandparents' generation not the distant mists of time!)

but yeah like fuck 'Israel controls the media' bullshit. It does not require a Shadowy Jewish Cabal of Puppetmasters to create mass appeasement from the media and ruling class, and if you think that's the best explanation you're fucking gross. The media and political establishment of Europe and the US are not being Controlled By The Wicked Jews. They are colonial projects. Israel is a colonial project. Their interests are aligned. It's not complicated it's So Fucking Simple. Our ruling classes, whether in Tel Aviv, Washington, Westminster or Berlin, are enthusiastically invested in the project of global apartheid. It makes them money. It maintained them power. It is in their interests to preserve the impunity of the occupying state where it shores up the civilised West vs barbarian East paradigm. It is not "too complicated" it's just huge, implacable and miserable to recognise.