#intended to be omnious

[cassiopeacollective]

43 mutuals.

[lalacliffthorne]

💜 starshine 💜

Rhysand x Reader

part I part II part III part IV part V part VI

summary: by luck or fate, Rhys stumbles upon a stranger.

notes: this has been swirling around my mind for ages.

______________________________________________________________

When the wards were breached, I raised my head.

A tingle went down my spine as I felt the presence, powerful but wavering, and for a second, I could feel golden light rise around me and power hum under my skin, ready to take on any intruder.

But something kept me. Something about the presence that didn't feel ill-intended or threatening, instead warm and powerful.

Quietly slipping down the hall, I soundlessly moved down the stairs, skipping the step that creaked – and froze a little when I saw the male in the living room. He was leaning against the big sofa, one hand pressed against his chest, his breath rattling slightly when he raised his head to look around the room. His dark hair was tousled, some strands sticking to his forehead that glistened with sweat, his face contorted into a grimace that caused me to move without really thinking, and his gaze shot towards me just as I stepped off the stairs. His eyes narrowed, and I wasn't sure if it was because his vision was swimming or because he was seizing me up.

“Who are you?”

His deep, slighty strained voice sounded very demanding for someone who seemed close to collapsing, and I huffed.

“Who am -”, I furrowed my brows incredulously, “who are you?”

The male shifted, and for a second, pain flashed over his features. “I am looking for Kane.”

I tipped my head to the side. “Well, then you are a decade late. He died.”

The male's jaw clenched, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a second, pushing off the couch, but when he took a step, he staggered, and feeling my eyes widen a little, I quickly dove forward, catching him.

A wave of pain hit me, so violent, I felt my breath stagger for a second.

“What the -” Quickly, I looked up at him with widened eyes and pressed my hand over the one on his chest, something skipping against my ribs at the feeling of something sticky under my fingers.

“I need a healer.” The male's voice was strained, and he seemed to have difficulty to open his eyes, his teeth clenched. His scent rose into my nose.

“Really?”, I shot back, my heart pounding against my ribs, my voice a little too breathless to sound indignant.

For a second, I just stared up at the male, feeling the conflict raging in my chest as his weight seemed to sink on me more with every second. Then I pressed my lips together in frustration.

Damn it.

“Come on.” I started pushing him forward towards the big oak table. The male groaned under his breath when I hauled him onto the polished surface, his hand slipping a little from his chest, and I felt my stomach turn.

The gash in the male's chest looked like someone had tried to dig his heart out. The edge of the wound had turned a vibrant green, and I barely managed to keep myself from making a face.

“Shit,”, I whispered under my breath.

“That sounds omnious.” The male's voice rattled, but somehow, he managed to sound conversationally. His body was burning up when I placed my left hand on his forehead, the right pressed over the wound to slow the outflow of blood.

“It's poison.” Breathing out, I slipped my other hand over the wound as well. “Alright, I'll have to get it out before healing you, which is going to hurt.”

The male's jaw tightened, eyes squeezed shut tightly as he nodded curtly and pressed: “Do it.”

“Alright.” I swallowed and raised my hands over the wound, palms down and fingers spread apart.

Warmth spread through my skin. Golden whisps of light formed around my hands, swirling through the gaps between my fingers, growing brighter. I could feel the magic pulsing through my arms, spreading through my body until it was vibrating in every fiber of my being as the golden light engulfed the male's body until he was glowing softly.

Breathing out, I focused, and the male's eyes flew open.

A low, guttural sound tore from his throat that made the hairs at the back of my neck stand up. His body started writhing, fingers clawing at the table as the poison fought against my magic. I could feel it pulse, angry and destructive, trying to fight by pulling itself deeper into his body, and the male gave a pressed roar of pain.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,”, I whispered under my breath, feeling my voice break a little as I tried to blend out his agonised screams that seemed to rip at my chest. My fingers started shaking, and with a low sound of defiance, I forced my magic forward.

The male breathed in raggedly as green mist slowly rose from the wound, hissing and steaming as I slowly drew the poison from his body. His thrashing slowly died away, the mist disappearing into thin air, leaving nothing behind but a slightly foul stench.

When the last bit of poison had evaporated, the glow of magic vanished from around the male's body, and hastily, I moved forward, pressing my hands onto his chest, and my heart jumped into my throat when I couldn't feel a heartbeat.

“No, no, come on.” Quickly, I closed my eyes and focused.

My fingers started to tingle, warmth like a flame building under my palms. Then pain shot through my chest, blinding and all consuming.

Sucking in a sharp breath, I barely suppressed the urge to whimper, squeezing my eyes shut tightly tightly and trying to breathe. The world seemed to sway a little as dark swallowed my vision.

Clenching my jaw, I focused on my hands, the heat under my palms growing stronger as I could see golden light behind my closed lights. Then, very slowly, the wound started to close under my fingers.

The pain in my chest grew number the more I knitted together the skin under hands, my fingers moving to beckon the magic forward, guide it.

When the last bit of skin patched itself together, I breathed in sharply, pulling my hands back and quickly opening my eyes, just to catch a glimpse at the last traces of a long scar on the male's torso until it vanished, nothing was left but even skin.

The male's eyes flew open, and he inhaled deeply, his chest rising.

A relieved sigh left me as something skipped harshly against my ribs, and quickly, I leaned forward to place my hand on the side of the male's neck, tracking his pulse. My heart thumped into my throat until I could feel his own, steady and firmly beating against his chest, and when I turned my eyes, my gaze met another.

Something shifted in my chest, and I felt my lips curve into a cheeky smile. 

“Hello.”

The male on the table blinked slowly. His eyes were striking, violet like a galaxy in a night sky, dragging lazily over my face like he was still slightly dazed. Then his brows furrowed a little.

“Have I died?”

His deep voice sounded rough, but a lot more relaxed, and a small laugh bubbled in my chest when I grinned down at him. “No; I think I would've caught that.”

The male stared at me, one corner of his lips slowly curving upwards.

“Can you sit?” I moved back, and the male blinked before slowly pushing himself up, my hand stretching out to catch him just in case.

Sliding his legs over the edge of the table, he slowly got to his feet until he was standing. Now that he wasn't doubled over in pain anymore, he was towering over me by more than a foot.

Tipping my head back to look up at him, I could feel my breath almost hitch when for the first time, I actually looked at him.

Inky black hair, wavy and still tousled, a face with a strong jaw and cheekbones that were prominent in just the right way. The shadow of a crease in his cheek caused by the way one corner of his lips rose just the tiniest bit as his eyes moved over my face in return, like he, too, was catalogising me curiously. Tendrils of black tattoos that barely rose over the collar of his dark shirt, above strong shoulders and a broad chest –

“Want me to stay still so you can stare a little longer, darling?”

Something skipped against my ribs at the lazy grin the male sent me, his eyes twinkling mischievously, and I huffed, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“Well. At least you're funny.”

“Darling, I'm far more than just that.” The male sent me a wink, his smile widening, and I slowly grinned back.

“Idiotic?” 

The male stared at me, his eyes dancing with his smirk. “Ouch.”

“Well, it seems like the only explanation; you turned up here with a poisoned rip in your chest, one doesn't get that without being idiotic.” I narrowed my eyes contemplatively. “Let me guess, cause was something with claws…”

The male's eyes twinkled. “I'm afraid I can't disclose that, darling.”

“Cause it was stupid?” I raised my brows.

The male slowly started to smile, causing creases to dig into his cheeks. “Maybe I was selflessly trying to save a lady in distress.”

I snorted, raising my brows even further as I leaned forward conspirationally and whispered, eyes widening: “Or maybe it was stupid…”

The male's lips curved when he stared down at me with a growing twinkle in his violet iris, and I grinned a little, tipping my head to the side as I considered him for a second. Then I narrowed my eyes.

“What's your name?”

The male looked like he was contemplating his answer for a second. Then he blinked, mischief flashing through his eyes as they twinkled at me.

“Rhysand.” He bowed his head a little, his lips curving as he straightened again. “But you may call me Rhys.”

“Rhysand…”, I echoed slowly, squinting in thought. “Isn't there a High Lord by that name?”

The male's smile became wicked. “There is.”

I hummed, feeling my lips begin to rise cheekily as I turned around, throwing him a look over my shoulder.

“But that can't be you, now can it? Because,”, I tipped my head to the side and raised my brows a little, “Rhysand is the High Lord of the Night Court… and we -,”, turning back around to face him, I slowly smiled crookedly as I stared at him, “are in Spring.”

Rhys' eyes twinkled as he watched me, then he narrowed his eyes. “You know, I was always under the impression that most healers are from Dawn.”

Something skipped lightly against my ribs. Slowly beginning to smile cheekily, I shrugged.

“They are.”

The male's lips curved into a light smirk as he slipped his hands into his pockets, beginning to saunter towards me.

"I was also under the impression that no healer, no matter where they are from –“, he raised his brows, his deep voice smooth and casual, “could draw poison from a wound with nothing but their own magic. They would all need something; a paste, a potion – because not even the most powerful healer would be able to summon the kind of magic an act like that would require.”

I felt my lips curve.

“Which begs the question…”, Rhysand stopped right on front of me, smile lazy but wicked, like a wolf on the prowl as his violet eyes dragged over my face. “Who or what – are you…?”

Staring up at him, I felt a cheeky grin tug at my lips. Then I squinted.

“Are you hungry?” I turned around, nodding. “I'm hungry.”

☆

I could feel Rhys´ eyes on my back as I carefully spooned the hot, steaming stew into a bowl before turning around and sliding it over the table towards where the male was sitting, reclined lazily as his gaze tracked my movements. He shifted when I handed him a spoon, the movement causing the torn front of his shirt to slip, revealing smooth, tanned skin over hard planes of muscle where not even an hour ago, a gaping, green tinged chasm had gaped.

Turning back around to fill another bowl, I picked up a spoon for myself before pulling the chair next to Rhys' back with my foot and sitting down, folding my legs up and blowing away the steam rising from the stew. Then I raised my eyes, only to find the male watching me. His bowl was untouched.

I huffed, feeling my lips curl in amusement as I sent him a mischievous grin and raised my brows.

“I just saved your life, poisoning you right after would be a bit of a waste.”

Rhys' lips curved upwards as his eyes dragged over my face. “You didn't know who I was before.”

I grinned softly, dunking my spoon into the stew. “I knew what you were the second you stepped through the front door.” Throwing him a look, I felt my lips rise into a crooked smile at the way his eyes narrowed.

“I could feel you. Your powers.” I shrugged. “If I really wanted you dead, I would've just killed you then instead of wasting energy on healing you.” I smirked a little. “Or I would've just stalled for a minute and you would have died all on your own.”

One corner of Rhys' lips curved upwards, but he didn't move.

I waited for a second, then I breathed out, staring at him.

Gods damned stubborn High Lord.

“You need to eat something.” My eyes moved over his face, the light crinkle around his violet eyes as they tracked over mine in return. “I may have gotten the poison out of your body, but that doesn't mean it didn't drain a whole lot of energy from you before. You need to eat, and then, you need to sleep.”

Leaning forward, I carefully spooned some of the stew out of his bowl, grumbling under my breath: “Otherwise you'll be hanging around here for the next century.” Gently blowing away the steam, I straightened up, carefully sipping the hot liquid off the spoon.

Rhys stared at me for another moment, a light twinkle growing in his eyes. Then he reached for his spoon. Before he dunked it into his bowl, he looked up at me.

“You never told me your name.”

“I know.” Wrapping my fingers around the warm bowl, I sent him a cheeky grin. When he just stared at me, I giggled softly.

“I'm Y/N.”

Rhys' eyes flickered over my face, and they narrowed, just a bit.

“Y/N.” His iris twinkled.

I huffed, and the male grinned before finally beginning to eat.

☆

The night air was soft, the breeze warm as it brushed over my arms. Watching the few stars twinkling in the dark sky, I looked over my shoulder when I heard footsteps and narrowed my eyes.

“I thought I told you to go to sleep.”

Rhys' violet eyes twinkled like the night sky when he leaned into the open doors, casually slipping his hands into his pockets. He had fixed his shirt, now wearing another, similar to the one before and leaving a sliver of the planes of his chest exposed. There were light crinkles around his eyes when he raised his brows.

“I guess people have been right when they told me I am terrible at following orders.”

I huffed and turned back around, but I could feel my lips curve as I mumbled drily: “Let me guess: It's because you're too used to giving them.”

Cool air whispered over me, bringing with it the scent of chilled nights and jasmine, then something warm brushed my side, and when I raised my head, Rhys took a seat next to me, his eyes glowing in the soft light of the garden when he sent me a smirk. “Maybe.”

Grumbling, I pulled my knees closer.

With a chuckle, Rhysand looked up at the sky, the stars reflecting in his eyes. Then he threw me a look. “You saved my life today.”

I felt one side of my lips turn up. “Yes, I think we have established that.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Rhys' gaze move over my face.

“Why?”

I shrugged. “Why not?”

The male's eyes pierced the side of my face as he watched me silently.

For a second, I looked up into the sky, then I exhaled, rolling my eyes a little even though I couldn't contain the amused twitch of my lips.

“I don't want anything from you.” I looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “If that's what you are wondering.” Shaking my head a little, I looked back up at the sky.

“I didn't do this because I want something from you.” Tilting my head and breathing out slowly, I felt something tug gently in my chest when I mumbled softly: “You were dying. I was able to prevent that. It's that simple.”

For a moment, I could feel Rhys stare at me, could feel his violet eyes pierce the side of my face. Then his deep, velvety voice traced over my skin.

“And here I was, thinking the Dark Fae were ruthless and cruel.”

My heart skipped high once, getting lodged into my throat.

I blinked before turning my head, only to find him watching me already, one corner of his lips curved upwards as he stared at me.

Returning his gaze, I felt something shift in my chest, soft and warm, and slowly, I could feel one corner of my lips rose.

“Strange.” I smiled cheekily, squinting in thought. “From what I've heard, people think the same thing about the High Lord of the Night Court.”

Rhys' violet eyes twinkled wickedly.

“Who says they're wrong?”

I shrugged, grinning crookedly. “You.”

Rhys' brows twitching for just a second, his eyes flickering over my face, and I smiled softly.

“I can feel it. That you're not what everyone believes you are. Though I'm not quite sure yet why you still don't correct that opinion.” I blinked. “I don't know how I know, I just – do. It is difficult to explain, how this works, but –“ I hesitated for a second before breathing out. “I feel people. Their presence. It's -” I furrowed my brows, trying to find the right words. “It's like I can sense them.”

One corner of Rhys' lips rose. “And what do I feel like?”

“You mean apart from annoying and cocky?”

The male smirked slowly, and I grinned back before slowly exhaling, focusing, and my heart skipped gently.

“I can feel your power,”, I whispered. “Not violent or destructive, just – strong. Like a hum. You feel – steady. A little pained, a little bruised. But warm.”

A warm breeze whispered through the leaves of the bushes, gently brushing over my skin. I could feel Rhys' eyes, and when I raised my head, something shifted in my chest.

The High Lord stared at me like he was fighting not to swallow. Then he blinked, and his voice sounded a bit rough when he mumbled: “I think your feelings might be deceiving you, darling.”

My heart tightened as my throat closed up a little, but I tried not let it show, instead smiling lopsidedly.

“They're not. They never are.” My eyes flickered over his face, and I barely suppressed the urge to swallow when I offered him a soft smile and whispered: “I think you're just not really looking.”

Rhys' eyes moved over mine, and something shimmered in his iris when he mumbled back softly, his deep voice raspy: “How can you be sure?”

I felt my lips curve. “I can feel you. Your emotions.”

Rhys seemed to tense a little.

“Emotions are the strongest tell of what kind of person someone is.” I wrapped my arms closer around my knees, furrowing my brows a little. “Even if people try to hide them, they seep through. Some people are more guarded, and I need physical contact to feel them. Their emotions need to be raging for me to feel them without it. Others are feeling so openly, so strongly, I just need to be near them to feel what they're feeling.” I blinked before looking over at Rhys.

“Feeling someone's emotions gives me a sense of who they are. Because we can't control our emotions. We can control thoughts, or words, but never feelings.” I smiled crookedly. “Not really.” I watched him, feeling something thrum gently against my ribs.

“You're good. You may not believe it. You may feel like you're drowned by doubt and guilt, like you're not deserving. But you are.” I shrugged, sending him a soft grin. “You can look, if you want. See what I'm seeing.”

Rhys stared at me. He looked a bit like I had whacked him across the head, lips slightly agape and eyes swimming with a mix of emotion so tangled, it was hard to discern them. But then he blinked, his throat working like he held back the urge to swallow, and his gaze became clearer, the corner of his lips rising as it flickered over my face.

Smiling softly, I turned back ahead, breathing out slowly as I looked up at the sky.

[koaly-ty]

Different Princess (Episode Reacts)

Spoilers for Different Princess from episode 21 to 23. It appears that there is still more to go......

Ep 21

is he making fireworks for her?

those bangs so cute (heart eyes)

new robes agaaaiiinn oolala

omnious person? people guess where you are going to end up when someone gets tired of your little attitude

the pale pink washes him out completely, bro get your brother to color match for you

too sweet too sweet too sweet aaaaghhhhh

well done you managed to pour water all over the romantic date he planned

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh feelings for youuu

what good news? (confusion)

princess you r the best (laughs) tease away might open her eyes to the truth, your brother will thank you

man so very happy proud touched by his intelligent wife working hard to help him

Ep 22

ah hah the plot thickens, empress u r also in this? (disapproving finger wagging)

oh boy what is mummy's boy upto?

he's got u all figured out (smirked)

spontaneous combustion…and he's dead, how can u tell what powder from a burnt corpse??

well he's got confirmation, and he's angry or upset? (cant tell)

people are hypocrites welcome to reality, nice drop (grins), also u need some color in that face, the upset seems to have brought some,

look at that cutey smile at the trust he has

oh wow heartless too much (raises eyebrow)

local man has made new year resolutions and intends to stick to them

new thought: tiny so you can carry

wow parental blackmail, u do realise where you are gonna end up, u should be glad ur daughter is competent

yeaaaaah she already has a guy in mind

ji chu= the most eligible husband material (facepalms)

new robes? wardrobe's expanding

an army in exchange for marriage, wont it look like treason?

Ah hah local man refuses, too in love with his wife

run away run away he knows u heard this is embarrassing (hides face)

arrow to the heart, his dialogue is just (clench fist mr darcy)

well it wasnt a slap (shrugs)

Ep 23

local lady holds twig for emotional support, and they are in matching colors outfits exact same white over red over white (internal screaming and dancing, couple outfits, me such a sucker for that shit)

insurance!!!!!!! (dies laughing, start a business)

Date night (sings happily)and romantic dialogue (thumbs up, two thumbs up go ji chu!!!!) fireworks and he has eyes only for you (swoons happily in this romantic cheese)

ah hopeless boy is here (shakes head sadly)

he's working up to say something, well he's done something (dies screaming happily)

father,pumpkin? why pumpkin?? her bed tantrums lol

he so soft, how you villain…..?

yaoyao i think you look better in some darker colors rather than these pastels

yes and play traitor and murderer in their husband's house

u tried to marry me off to my bestie's husband……….confusion face, indignation!

she told his mother about him, and she proposed marrying her to prince three

the princess is having such a good time, me happy for her, she best girl

this kid is asking for death, such a brat who taught him this (shock face)

his voice so soft to the kid

bro u are never going to get a more peaceful confrontation about the fact u have a kid, she's not going anywhere she's not even gonna divorce u over this or give you any shit she's just accepted she's a stepmom now and she's just like hit me, how many are there (rofl)

(face in hands breathes deeply, i've passed away) who who who gave him those lines i cant tell if they need an award or to go yeet them off a cliff for the second hand embarrassment they are inflicting on us poor viewers

local man trying to induce jealousy in wife, bro she wrote you what do you mean? every thought of yours were her thoughts

bro looks alone

whats with the hesitation

that red dress from certain angles the front top inside looks nude

this brat is a flatterer

look who's moved on (stares judgementally)

why do you sound like you are announcing a funeral, did u think she would be upset you are getting married, bro u r the only one waiting here she's living her best life

yeah look who's moved on, u lying lier, stop looking so transparently delighted that she might be upset at losing you, this is just pathetic i can read you and i suck at understanding expressions

hah u r the least of her concerns, in fact u dont exist, yaoyao is her fav, how does that feel bro (smirks)

lady i get you are caught up in your head that this is your story brought to life but how do u not see his upset disappointed face

and u, how dare you lead yaoyao on like this (angry hissing)

he's still alive (shocked pikachu face)

his heart is gonna give out…..gone for good….?….?….?

murder bestie you are still watching for that ungrateful friend of urs (eyes filling with happy tears)

[lanaevyssmoved]

8, 23, 50 afhiri . hand em over

8. Do they collect anything? If so what and why?

pre-game and during the game, no, but she is the type to pick up pretty rocks and keep them (or give them away to her friends.. please look after them!) HOWEVER after the events of the game during Domestic Life Time TM with gale, he starts to gift her with flutes. lots. of flutes. every flute he finds that he thinks she will like, the most beautifully carved, ones painted in bright shades, some custom made with custom engravings. she still prefers to play the infamous Flute 2 (the flute gale bought her at the start of their adventures together after her childhood flute went Missing.. it died), so the flutes end up in beautiful display cases in his tower .....

23. How would they want to die?

this is the most insane thing u could have asked me and is literally why i just Got out of Bed to respond . i am insane. you are insane. ANyway

before the events of the game if you asked afhiri this they'd look at you like you just spoke infernal. that girl hadn't even considered death to be a concept. you'd get the type of empty stare with a plastered on smile that makes u walk away slowly. and then quickly

this maintains until act 2 when gale gets told to off himself by god, or something, she doesn't really get it but she knows it means no more gale and, unhinged, that means no more afhiri, obviously. how can there possibly be an afhiri if there's no more gale? this clown fully intends to die with him be that at the heart of the absolute or in the depths of the underdark

post game unfortunately gale and afhiri are both insane in their lil verse and they seek immortality so they never have to be apart. originally gale was to extend his lifespan with their consent so they dont have to live without him, but he had the genius idea that they could just live for eternity together and then their love will never have to end!!! so, tldr, afhiri isn't going to die. this clown will live forever (omnious)

50. What is your favourite thing about them?

ohohoh. ok, to be honest, afhiri is incredibly healing for me. she was literally made in the wake of something quite rough for me, and i turned her into a character that could survive any hardship with a smile on her face because that's what i needed to delve into for my own wellbeing. my favourite thing about afhiri is how much she is helping me. i am a better person with them honking in my skull

IN A LESS EMOTIONAL RESPONSE my favourite thing about them is that they are so unashamed to do and say whatever the fuck they want whenever they want even if they get looked at like a total weirdo and freak (they are). this tief does not care if you think negatively about them because boy what theyre doing is working if youre paying attention and that shits cool. if afhiri was in modern day theyd have a youtube account where they dress as a clown and talk about the most pointless shit and people are so mad about that and its great.

[johannwolfgangvongoethe]

umineko,...

episode 1, part 6

.

UH OH !!!

do you think this is a bad sign?

what IS that. jesus christ no one let maria see this. and there was the same red paint.... on natsuhis doorknob? this is like when you play a game of werewolf and on a new morning you are informed the werewolf tried to kill someone but they were protected by another persons power. which someone else could mistake for her being the culprit. i guess.

if this happened to me and a bunch of relatives went missing, the landline mysteriously died, followed by the appearance of an omnious cross pattée summoning circle thing that is Clearly written in blood. idk what id do. probably accuse grandpa.

top 10 images that preceed unfortunate events

oh battler we are really in it now. dude imagine being this guy. text advance speed is limited in the following scene, which is very effective. you HAVE to listen to battler cry. you have to listen to his grief and how much he hated his father but Not Enough For This To Happen. the portraits and character illustrations in the menu change. you see enough to imagine the detail vividly, even without gorey imagery.

:(

the state the bodies are in is quite unique. i wonder. is this about erasing their memory by erasing the face they could be remembered by? is this about losing face, a sign that they have lost their right to respect and honour? is it about getting rid of the most identifyable human part of them? its very interesting. it really rids the scene of every shred of dignity it could have maybe still had, its deeply offensive, it makes them all appear more equal to each other, and the lack of a face turns corpses into mere bodies. not sure if krauss and shannon only missing half their face is of significance.... maybe a sign to mark them as special? or a direct attack on their respective partners, who are very much still alive? both? it seems too purposefully written into it to be meaningless.

this weird objectification is what instantly made me check the character screen as the scene unfolded. the descriptions of the characters changed as well, suggesting a cycle of death and rebirth i dont understand yet, that the victims were chosen by chance, and possibly that this will repeat again in the story.

is that what the riddle is? if the first deaths are always random, is picking the suiting victims for the next days a part of the ritual? or is it more a of a prophetic vision of one time events after all?

and sure enough "those who remain shall tear apart the two who are close" accurately describes what i assume is about to happen... the two with the best motives to kill are eva and hideyoshi (getting rid of other heirs and the servant girl their son is obviously in love with... no idea about gohda. hideyoshi liked him.) so i expect there to be a lot of blame directed towards these two.

BACK TO MY FAVOURITE SUBJECT it says a lot about natsuhi how she reacted to the scene. she stands in silence, does not ask for help, in the rain, as if to punish herself or maybe to look specifically unbothered. she is not giving anyone present an opening that can be exploited, she isnt showing any weakness. she instantly turns to her most loved hobby for comfort instead: she wishes to organize the situation and takes on a leading role for the family.

related to this, kanons reaction is of importance too. he is the servant who brings up being emotionless furniture the most, who previously stated he was raised with the purpose of being a tool and that things such as emotions and playtime just werent made for him. he doesnt cry but man he is very well close to it. the only bit of sentimental distraction he allowed himself was loving shannon and that too is lost to him now. death as an equalizer works as intended. he is, like the ushiromiya coursins too, just a person right now, consumed by grief like everyone else too.

but even death cannot make natsuhi and eva stand on common ground. despite it all, they are still fighting. god these women are obsessed with each other. i dont even mean this in a "i love gay people" way, just in a "i morbidly obsessed watching them destroy each other" way.

sorry to everyone in this novel who still thinks theyre dealing with a normal crime scene. understandable!!! but they dont know. they dont know magic is real (probably) yet. only maria instantly connected the murders to the riddle and she is entirely calm and without worry. its clear that her mother will soon be resurrected to her.

yeah how do you even start explaning this to a 9yo

[thunderhel]

Y’all ever try to write something and everything happens exactly how you want it but the tone is completely off? And you can’t figure out why and you just gotta keep trying to rewrite it and rework it even though the dialogue and the action is all correct but something is just...not coming across right.

[istumpysk]

Sansa living in Eyrie is not going to happen. The way continuous mention of cold and chilling air making omnious sounds in Sansa chapters doesn't seems good to me. The times she feels happy is when she remembering old days and building WF.

Will they lay Sansa down naked beneath the Iron Throne after they have killed her? Will her skin seem as white, her blood as red? - Catelyn III, ASOS

x

Soldier pines were everywhere, drawn up in solemn ranks. In their midst was a pale stranger; a slender young weirwood with a trunk as white as a cloistered maid. Dark red leaves sprouted from its reaching branches. Beyond was the emptiness of sky and sea where the wall had collapsed . . . - Brienne IV, AFFC

x

Ahead he glimpsed a pale white trunk that could only be a weirwood, crowned with a head of dark red leaves. - Jon VII, ADWD

x

Lysa's apartments opened over a small garden, a circle of dirt and grass planted with blue flowers and ringed on all sides by tall white towers. The builders had intended it as a godswood, but the Eyrie rested on the hard stone of the mountain, and no matter how much soil was hauled up from the Vale, they could not get a weirwood to take root here. - Catelyn VII, ASOS

x

Dawn, she thought. Another day. Another new day. It was the old days she hungered for. Prayed for. But who could she pray to? The garden had been meant for a godswood once, she knew, but the soil was too thin and stony for a weirwood to take root. A godswood without gods, as empty as me. - Sansa VII, ASOS

x

She could not love this place, no matter how she tried. Even before the guards and serving men had made their descent, the castle had seemed as empty as a tomb, and more so when Petyr Baelish was away. No one sang up there, not since Marillion. No one ever laughed too loud. Even the gods were silent. The Eyrie boasted a sept, but no septon; a godswood, but no heart tree. No prayers are answered here, she often thought, though some days she felt so lonely she had to try. - Alayne II, AFFC

x

As they were making their way to the next pier, Podrick shuffled his feet, and said, "Ser? My lady? What if my lady did go home? My other lady, I mean. Ser. Lady Sansa."

"They burned her home."

"Still. That's where her gods are. And gods can't die." - Brienne V, AFFC

Yeah, I'm not too worried about Sansa finishing her story in the Vale.

[bookhousestark]

ARYA STARK: "Anger in Powerlessness" OR "No one likes a mad woman"

Rereading Arya's chapters, what stands out to me as a ruling factor over her development and actions is her anger, its roots (particularly her trauma, and the experience of injustice), its kind (the specific frustrated anger associated with the trauma of the powerless), and how it's viewed in the fandom (the social tendency of the anger of the powerless - and response - against injustice being labeled as an antisocial behavior; the anger of a woman/girl being used to undermine her mental and emotional state or capacity).

Arya starts the series as a very privileged child, as all the Starks. In the North, they rule and reign, and their word is law. 

As a child first, and a girl second (a non-comforming, looked down on one at that), Arya is of course not at the very top of this hierarchical power. But, as the rest of her family, she leans upon the pillar that is: her father, Lord Eddard Stark, has power of life and death over all of his subjects. Which means the lives of all people in the Northern Kingdom depend upon what his principles are. Lord Stark is of a kind that feels that weight, and teaches it as such to his children: one must be secure in the guilty status of one sentenced to death, and prove that security by doing the deed themselves. Such a dogma depends heavily on the existence of high principles in their believer, of course, and whether Eddard Stark is defined by that is open to philosophical interpretation, as it's good to mention he predominantly follows law, and law isn't always morals. 

But as a general consensus, Eddard Stark is a great Lord who values justice. And Arya starts her life/journey at his table, taking his ruling lessons to heart, while connected both the hand of justice of the land, and the power to assure it. A privileged position that starts to crack as soon as they depart Winterfell/the North. 

A second born who was never meant to rule, Ned has managed to establish himself as a well revered and respected ruler in the North over the course of a decade and a half. When he leaves his homeland, he is officially doing it as the second most powerful man in the 7 Kingdom’s, in name. The King, Robert Baratheon, however, is a complacent, corruptible, unreliable source of power for his friend. The people surrounding him know that, and so Ned cannot inherit but what Robert is given - a surface level of loyalty that is often undermined beneath and sometimes even above the surface, particularly by the Lannisters; and at the first opportunity, an underhanded death.

The Lannisters would go on and teach Arya (and to different degrees, other Starks, including Ned) her first level of dipping into the experience of powerlessness, after a life of more and less comparative sheltered power.

"The hard cruel times," her father said. "We tasted them on the Trident, child, and when Bran fell. You were born in the long summer, sweet one, you've never known anything else, but now the winter is truly coming."    

This is, looking back, a bigger truth than Ned even was aware of at the time, and its extent, an omnious omen for what was to come, especially in Arya’s life - how much she had yet to brace for.

The Lannisters have, after all, started their ‘rule’ with the new establishment's enabling of them crossing the lines of proper behavior in their society, without repercussions (with the whole details of the sack of King’s Landing), and the fault lies mostly on Jon Aryn and Robert Baratheon that it becomes their unchecked habit to continue to do so. Joffrey Baratheon’s lacks anything in education but his mother’s enabling because he seemed like too much trouble for Robert to have a hand in it. Jaime Lannister throws a High Lord’s son from a tower to hide his adultery with the King’s wife, he intends to cut a High Lord’s daughter’s hand without trial, he attacks a High Lord in the street and kills his men; the last of them is public and known and there are no repercussions. Lord Tywin sends his men to raid people in the Riverlands when his son is rumored to have disappeared with a Tully; it is not officially tied to him. They do not care, and have no reason to - they were never challenged by higher authorities. 

Halfway from the Starks’ seat of power to King’s Landing, being this long unchecked corrupted power, the Lannisters teach Arya an awakening first glimpse of powerlessness. Joffrey attacks her, Cersei wants the hand that dared raise in protest to his violence cut, or at least her animal defender beheaded, Jaime hunts her through the woods, Joffrey’s lackey, the Hound, cuts the boy she tried to protect to pieces. The King closes his eyes to taking (moral) responsibility. Ned Stark, ‘the second most powerful man in the land’, sounds a beggar-

"Robert, you cannot mean this," Ned protested.

***

He looked across the room at Robert. His old friend, closer than any brother. "Please, Robert. For the love you bear me. For the love you bore my sister. Please."

***

Ned stood, gently disengaging himself from Sansa's grasp. All the weariness of the past four days had returned to him. "Do it yourself then, Robert," he said in a voice cold and sharp as steel. "At least have the courage to do it yourself."

Robert looked at Ned with flat, dead eyes and left without a word, his footsteps heavy as lead. Silence filled the hall.

The fact that she has no power to protect the weak, the fact that the hands of power and justice she had known thus far don’t as well, these are a brutal awakening, and she can never go back to being ignorant - or feeling foolishly safe.

Only that was Winterfell, a world away, and now everything was changed. This was the first time they had supped with the men since arriving in King's Landing. Arya hated it. She hated the sounds of their voices now, the way they laughed, the stories they told. They'd been her friends, she'd felt safe around them, but now she knew that was a lie. They'd let the queen kill Lady, that was horrible enough, but then the Hound found Mycah. Jeyne Poole had told Arya that he'd cut him up in so many pieces that they'd given him back to the butcher in a bag, and at first the poor man had thought it was a pig they'd slaughtered. And no one had raised a voice or drawn a blade or anything, not Harwin who always talked so bold, or Alyn who was going to be a knight, or Jory who was captain of the guard. Not even her father.    

Arya has known less consequencial forms of high end injustice in her short life so far. She has seen a brother she loved being looked down on for being a bastard, though at least he had the luck of being raised with a Lord’s education and in a wealthy home. She has been bullied by her childhood peers, and maliciousy targeted by a teacher with a strict inane view of women’s place in the world, for being ‘unfit’. But this is a ‘classroom trauma that does have its longtern effects, but whose roots you find out will not signify in real life’ kind of issue, in retrospect, that does not diminish her privileged place in the world that far, her future as a desirable connection among the highest Lords of the North, as a beloved daughter to the current High Lord, as a beloved sister to the future High Lord.

But Arya’s empathy and sympathy encompassed any who are not unworthy of it, not dependent of their situation in life. Unlike another of her status, Sansa, who is comfortable to close her eyes to what she witnesses, for as long as the opression had yet to reach her own person and high station. For as long as she herself is not vulnerable, she can dismiss those who are, and rewrite the narrative as required, changing as per her need to fulfill the fantasy of her personal and self-centered desires. The blame is on whoever cannot take that away from her.

FROM

At first she thought she hated him for what they'd done to Lady, but after Sansa had wept her eyes dry, she told herself that it had not been Joffrey's doing, not truly. The queen had done it; she was the one to hate, her and Arya. Nothing bad would have happened except for Arya.    

TO

"I don't want to go back." She loved King's Landing; the pagaentry of the court, the high lords and ladies in their velvets and silks and gemstones, the great city with all its people. The tournament had been the most magical time of her whole life, and there was so much she had not seen yet, harvest feasts and masked balls and mummer shows. She could not bear the thought of losing it all. "Send Arya away, she started it, Father, I swear it. I'll be good, you'll see, just let me stay and I promise to be as fine and noble and courteous as the queen."   

***

FROM

Joffrey lifted Lion's Tooth and laid its point on Mycah's cheek below the eye, as the butcher's boy stood trembling. "That was my lady's sister you were hitting, do you know that?" A bright bud of blood blossomed where his sword pressed into Mycah's flesh, and a slow red line trickled down the boy's cheek.

***

It would be different if it had been Jory or Ser Rodrik or Father, she told herself. The young knight in the blue cloak was nothing to her.

TO

Arya screwed up her face in a scowl. "Jaime Lannister murdered Jory and Heward and Wyl, and the Hound murdered Mycah. Somebody should have beheaded them."                 

"It's not the same," Sansa said. "The Hound is Joffrey's sworn shield. Your butcher's boy attacked the prince."

***

Alyn was handsomer than Jory had been; he was going to be a knight one day.    

This difference in empathy and pragmatic awareness of her surroundings means a whole different development in person and fate for Arya. Her keener wit, instincts and (openness to) understanding the people and world around her mean that, while she’s handed the hardest and most perilious journey ahead out of all Starks, she survives and grows in spite of adversity. Because, for big portions of her time after leaving King’s Landing, Arya lives as the most vulnerable being in Westeros, in either times of peace or war: a peasant.

A Lord such as Roose Bolton may still consider ‘the first night’ his right, and in spite of it being illegal under the Iron Throne, there seems to be no awareness of his deeds, and so peasant women live at his mercy. A Lord Jorah Mormont may sell his hungry people into slavery for as long as it goes unnoticed, and if he is to be questioned, he’s to be brought to justice, but not the lost peasants to their homes.

The other Stark children whom we further hear for maintain variable amounts of privilege or protection connected to their name. Arya for the most part has to give up all she is.

Their captors permitted no chatter. A broken lip taught Arya to hold her tongue. Others never learned at all. One boy of three would not stop calling for his father, so they smashed his face in with a spiked mace. Then the boy's mother started screaming and Raff the Sweetling killed her as well. 

Arya watched them die and did nothing. What good did it do you to be brave? One of the women picked for questioning had tried to be brave, but she had died screaming like all the rest. There were no brave people on that march, only scared and hungry ones. Most were women and children. The few men were very old or very young; the rest had been chained to that gibbet and left for the wolves and the crows.

Arya has been a beloved and loving Lady to the smallfolk from even before, listening to the wisdom of their professions at her father’s side - from steward, to stables keeper, to leant septon, taught Maester, strong soldiers, smith - and mingling among them and their children. ‘Arya Underfoot’ is an affectionate nickname from the lowborn people serving in her castle, who see her as a ‘nice highborn lady’, her family as a ‘nice highborn family’ to serve.

But as genuine as Arya’s affection and respect are for people others looked down on, her experiences during the war of the Five Kings are essential to her genuine understanding of their plights and perspectives, particularly how there is no ‘pure’ all good nobility, not even her family, who wouldn’t make these people their victims as much as any other, when it comes down to it.

"Who did it, then?" asked Gendry.        

"Hoster Tully." Notch was a stooped thin grey-haired man, born in these parts. "This was Lord Goodbrook's village. When Riverrun declared for Robert, Goodbrook stayed loyal to the king, so Lord Tully came down on him with fire and sword. After the Trident, Goodbrook's son made his peace with Robert and Lord Hoster, but that didn't help the dead none."    

***

"It's more than Lannister and Tully," the innkeeper said. "There's wild men down from the Mountains of the Moon, try telling them you take no part. And the Starks are in it too, the young lord's come down, the dead Hand's son . . ."

Arya suffers the fate of the unimportant in these game of thrones. The ones whose daily worries ought to be food and shelter, and safety, or lack of. The ones who nobles like Catelyn Stark can call “useless mouths to feed” in the grander scheme of things, for they have bigger worries. The ones whose deaths are numbers. Who are invisible utilities tearing their hands to shreds serving like Arya did in Harrenhal, or to be sent as bait to die on the batltefield, as Robb did once with his own men, the kind of act that would brand him a worthy oponent of older military name, but for his men it just means nameless, forgotten deaths, families left behind to fend for themselves.

And for all the talk of ‘progressive’ dismantling of the monarchic system in the fandom, the labelling of the resulting anger from this typical experience of powerlessness as deviant behaviour that needs to be checked by authority figures shows a confounding disconnection with the topic, on par with the pretense of upholding feminism when implying a girl questioning why she's not given equal opportunities and choices in life translares to 'hating/ thinking of one's self above other women'.

[docholligay]

In case the slightly omnious reply was directed at my Mahiru revue ask - I just want to clarify it was made in good faith. It was not meant to spark an argument or anything. I just like comparing how people read characters and found it interesting that we arrived at very different readings. I might have worded one thing a bit vaguely because I wanted to avoid referring to stuff you haven't discussed yet. Because, as I understood it, that stuff is off limits until you get to it (which is fair).

Oh no! Not you at all, trust. I actually intended to answer that if I have time, you're totally fine

[szynkaaa]

as usual, I’m delivering quality content to the fandom in the form of bad memes ft. my OC

Fair warning, if you touch Brahms’ face - regardless whether you’re holding a sandwich or not - he will grab both of your hands and keep them there because our boy is t o u c h s t a r v e d.

Some Brahms headcanon

He’s a classical boy no questions asked - probably because he never really listened to anything else and his parents beat Mozart co into his head from very little on. I don’t think he’d be too willing to try to listen to new stuff, especially more modern things

I do think that he’d be more willing to listen to soundtracks though? I can see him taking a liking on Opera Maria and Draco (since Mozart’s Zauberflöte was playing for him too). Or piano pieces such as Valse D’amelie, some Ghibli soundtracks too. I don’t think he would like anything too omnious tho (like... the Bloodborne OST for example. good shit tho)

Ghibli movies!!!! iirc, the house didn’t have wifi and had bad phone reception. There is a landline phone, to which Brahms had access to control the line and cut it off any time. So it is safe to assume there Heelshires did not have a TV or computer in the house. But anyway, I do think that if introduced to movie entertainment, Brahms would love Ghibli movies.

He’s a crafty boy, he made himself a No Face mask the next day. I think that Princess Mononoke terrified him a little, with the boar god turning into a demon and stuff. Def a Spirited Away fan though. Maybe Arietty too, since in the movie the borrower family has to be very careful when moving around to not be discovered and I think He Relates (tm)

ok probably a fan of animations in general. I do think that he’d be picky about which one though - while he does strike me as a smart boy, he did live a very isolated life, so I think if he doesn’t get too many of the references, he probably will stop watching it. Like, I don’t think he’d be a fan of Star Wars the Clone Wars series for example. But Over the Garden Wall or Adventure time? probably more up his alley.

Also disney movies.

I think a lot about chucking the Harry Potter series or the Narnia Chronicles or the Hobbit at his head and tell him to read those too.

Touch starved but also Does Not Know How To Do Human Contact. idk about you but the way he dragged Greta away? Homeboy could have hurt her he could have just grabbed her around her waist and dragged her away.

Watch out, once you show him how to return a hug, you will be walking around the mansion with a 193cm backpack glued to your back.

He Is A 33 Years Old Virgin And This Is The Hill I Will Die On

Probably needs to be taught how to kiss properly too

moving on before things get too NSFW lmao another time maybe ( ͡�� ͜ʖ ͡°)

I don’t think he’d be very talkative. The most you’d hear him talk is when he is keeping up with the haunted house shenanigans using his child’s voice to make demands and stuff.

turns back to his OG voice when he is desperate and mad (as we know). It shouldn’t happen too often though as long as you stick to the rules and don’t leave him lmao.

In a scenario where he comes out of the wall more often to be close to reader/OC, he’d still be using his child voice to communicate, but it would mostly be three-word requests/questions. He’d be using head gestures a lot (nodding, shaking his head, tilting it sideways etc.). And probably gets grabby and physical too if he is displeased.

That being said, Brahms’s love language is physical touches for obvious reasons.

If you’d ask him to use his normal voice, he wouldn’t be used to it. Probably be very cracked and a bit shaky. He always talked to his parents in his child’s voice too - although I highly doubt that they really talked much over the years. Probably communicated a lot with knocking on the walls and with the parents shouting stuff through the room knowing he will hear it.

Ask him to spend his reading sessions with you face to face and have him read the chapters out loud to you in his normal voice to practice getting used to it. He can cuddle you while he’s reading as a compromise that should pacify him

whops that turned out a lot longer than I intended it to be  pls talk to me about Brahms I love him so much

[minervacasterly]

Eleanor, by the Grace of God, Queen of the English, Duchess of the Normans & Duchess of the Aquitanians and Countess of the Angevins

“… the young heiress was fair enough to content any king … “Charming,” “welcoming” and “lively” (avenante, vailante, courtoise) are the words used by the chroniclers to portray her … Her education had not of course furnished her with the orderly intellectual baggage fit for an abbess. Though doubtless, like all the heirs of her race, she had her tutors, her real school had been a varied experience …” (Amy Ruth Kelly, Eleanor of Aquitaine and the Four Kings)

The END OF THE EAGLETS’ REBELLION AND ELEANOR’S CAPTIVITY:

“Henry had no need of trumpets to tell him that sedition in Poitou had not been quenched by the imprisonment of Eleanor. He had suppressed the rebellion that had threatened the Angevin empire with a success so signal that it was popularly attributed to the miraculous intervention of Saint Thomas. But to the prescient Angevin the conclusion had less the character of finale than of omnious prelude. The whole uprising had revealed, not only to him, but to his enemies, the extent of a many-sided discontent that needed only coherence to be overwhelming. The queen, though in his hands, remained the object of intrigue, the inspiration of her rival foot-loose sons and of the turbulent fortune seekers who found their profit in war and rapine. The king turned over in his mind the problem of what to do with his captive … To divorce her might be tempting; the grounds were excellent –treason and two more degrees of consanguinity than had been sufficient in Louis’s case- but he could not set her free in her own estates to make some new alliance of her own. Capable as he was of reading the lessons of history, he had no mind to repeat Louis’s fatal blunder. He needed legates to suggest to him how scrupulous the King of France would be in the interest of his vassal, if once she were at liberty. To keep her in custody (forever?) might hinder new intrigues … In the court there remained alone of the famous coterie of the Plantagenets the Capetian princess Alais. In 1176 she was sixteen. No fault was found with her person. She was comely, gifted, nobly dowered, and she too had been polished for her role in the school of Marie of Champagne [Louis VII’s third wife]. Why was the Frankish princess alone of all that noble company of dames choises left unwed in the palaces of the Plantagenet king? Why had other marriages been proposed for the Count of Poitou? The world made these inquiries and the Capets pressed them home. In 1177, in extreme agitation, Louis appealed to Rome to enforce the marriage of Alais to the Count of Poitou [Richard] on pain of interdict on all the lands of Henry Fitz-Empress on both sides of the channel … Giraldus relates that Henry, confident of his prospect of getting rid of the queen through his appeal to the Pope, intended to take the Capetian princess for himself, disinherit the fierce eaglets of Poitou as the bastard of a consanguineous marriage, and rear a new progeny to possess the Angevin empire. Giraldus, never more piously enthusiastic than when exposing Henry’s vices, declares that after his separation from the queen, the king turned openly to the evil courses he had long secretly pursued. Briefly he flaunted the beautiful Clifford, and when she had vanished from the scene, he made a mistress of his precious hostage, the daughter of his overlord, the bride affianced to his son.  Did the Angevin mean to erase from his life story the chapter of his union with the disastrous Poitevin and go back to his earlier plan for a primary alliance with his overlord? It was recalled that before he had sold his birthright for Poitou and Aquitaine, he had sought a marriage with Louis’s eldest daughter, the Countess of Champagne …” (Kelly, Eleanor of Aquitaine and the Four Kings)

Henry II of England’s relationship and ultimate goal with Alice of France is still being debated. Whether or not he intended to divorce his wife (a woman who had given him plenty of sons) and who in spite of their rebellion, were of a fighting age to defend their respective dominions and perpetuate the new Plantagenet dynasty, is immaterial. Louis VII of France was against the match and so were most of the clergy. Following the death of their eldest son, the young King Henry; Eleanor and Henry II seemed to reach a peace of sorts.When Henry died, he was mourned by his subjects. Whatever his personal flaws, he had governed the country well and restored order to the anarchy caused by the civil war that erupted as a result of his cousin Stephen being chosen over his grandfather’s chosen heir, Henry II’s mother, Matilda. In spite of this, he left a strong inheritance to his surviving male heirs, among them his wife’s favorite, Richard who became the new King of England

“… he had left his inedible stamp on all of France and the British Isles. Until his last years he had mastered every king, duke, and count who had tested him. He was perhaps the most famous man in Christendom. And his fame burned across the ages to follow. For Henry II, king of England, duke of Normandy and Aquitaine, count of Anjou, Maine, and Touraine, and lord of Ireland, had begun a dynasty that shaped the future of Europe for more than two centuries.” (Dan Jones, The Plantagenet Warrior Kings and Queens who made England)

Despite their quarrels, Eleanor was well aware of the big shoes her favorite son would have to fill. And more importantly whom he’d choose to look after England when he went seeking glory in the Holy land and elsewhere.

“Richard processed to Westminster behind ranks of bishops and abbots, barons, knights, and the solemn officers of England ... Perhaps the proudest of them all was Eleanor of Aquitaine. To see Richard crowned king of England represented the apogee of his mother’s ambition, fulfilling as it did a famous prophecy of Merlin: “The eagle of the broken covenant will rejoice in [her] third nesting.” Immediately on Henry’s death, her beloved son had released her form captivity and restored the lands and revenues that had been taken from her as punishment for the rebellion of 1173; even before he had arrived in England, Richard had sent a command that his mother, now aged sixty-six, should occupy a preeminent place in English government. She had spent the weeks preceding the coronation traveling around the country, holding court, and extracting oaths of allegiance from the great and good of the realm …” (Jones, The Plantagenet Warrior Kings and Queens who made England)

When Richard I of England died, a part of Eleanor died. But she remained resilient as ever, doing what had to be done to safeguard the new king of England (her youngest son, John “Lackland”) throne. As a result, John came to her aid when she was about to be captured by her grandson, Arthur of Brittany, son of her late second son, Geoffrey. Since war had broken out between Philip II of France and John I of England, the former believed he could gain the upper hand by showing his first ace under his sleeve in the form of Eleanor’s grandson. The teen (arguably) had a better claim than his uncle. John was the youngest of the eaglets, Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine’s brood while Arthur was the son of their second son. Angered by Eleanor’s decision to support his uncle, Arthur pushed back by laying siege to the Castle of Mirebeau, where she was staying, in Aquitaine (modern day Western France).

Eleanor had been through all sorts of adventures and survived all kinds of treacherous plots and court intrigues. Her determination, wit, ambition as well as her struggle to preserve the courts of love and other knightly romantic culture through her granddaughter Blanche of Castile, are a testament to the incredible woman that she was. After that foiled attempt though, Eleanor opted for a rest that was long overdue. Like many aristocratic women of the medieval world, she took the veil and became a nun. She died three years later in 1204 and was entombed Fontevrault Abbey in the county of Anjou next to Henry II.

[nonbinaryeye]

Please tell me some unpopular opinion of yours!

Either about the fandom or about the show (or both), surprise me

I would like to write a bit longer and more complex post about it later but...

I really don't like some of the takes on Martin especially in fifth season in the fandom. Now first of all I wouldn't even say it's majority and this is only my opinion and it's perfectly possible that I'm the only one who doesn't fully understand his character.

From my point of view there are basically three kinds of kinda simplification of his char. Either he's being still characterized as sweet overprotective guy as he was in seasons 1 - 3. I sometimes see lines which were clearly said as annoyed or frustrated later portrayed in fanarts as much more understanding when he sounded clearly annoyed... I mean they are in the middle of apocalypse and his omnious boyfriend never gives him straight answer. He got all right to be a bit frustrated.

On the other hand I've also seen previous seasons recontextualized as that Martin has always been quite vocal and assertive... I think I've seen takes that he Jon actually dislikes him because he gave him harsh lecture about not killing spiders but that's not who he was. When we first heard him he was nervous. And anxious. And desperately wanting to just do a good job and being more vocal only when he was defending Jon. But he's been through lot he's more in control now he's trying to overcome his self worthe issues pretending he never had them takes a great amount of the character.

Oh and of course the third take is that he's not understanding enough towards Jon and his whole character in season five is ooc and his relationship with Jon is overall unhealthy. And I agree that his action and decision are sometimes quite frustrating and almost hypocritical and you can view Martin's relationship with Jon whatever way you want but I really disagree with the ooc part because people change after a trauma. Sometimes a lot or it a way you wouldn't expect them.

Okay this accidentally got a bit longer than I intended I just wanted to make sure that I explain myself properly.

[liquidmetalslime]

You ever thought about what they can do with the setting/story of future dq builders games considering the games they're based on? Any personal wishes?

I imagine they’ll do a third one that will be some sort of sequel to DQ3, and years after that maybe 100% original stuff. For a personal wish: A more arcade based game where you rebuild towns and cities from all the major games in the series (including spinoffs and mangas even!) would be amazing. Like now you’re rebuilding Zamoksva, in the next chapter Somnia, in another one Trodian, etc. The progression would be like in DQB1 but once you unlock a recipe and go back to earlier chapters/missions you still can make it (kinda like the lyre in DQB1, i guess?), and by compleating challenges equivalent to the ones in DQB1 you could unlock unlimited materials like in DQB2.

Back to the topic, I’d want the third one to be for the next gen (imagine if DQB3 had raytracing! ... but that would require them to give em a bigger budget lol), also to at least give DQB2 some time to settle properly; and to have playable vocations, or at least specializations. I suppose something like choosing between being more of a miner (ocasionally get x2 of a mineral from breaking 1 ore, get access to better weapons easlier, etc) or a gardener (get access to plants earlier, can revive dead trees, ect) would be good. We’ve seen some kind of (non-playable) class specialitzation with the soldiers in DQB2, i’d want them to build (no pun intended) on that. Also give the player spells, maybe?

I want more QoL too, like once you have had a liquid on the botomless pot you could open a submenu and select it directly without needing to find it again, or being able to switch controls on the fly (not offering the options to switch the western ps4 controls back to how they are on switch and eastern ps4 suck; if you’re gonna make changes like that at least let me choose), more options for existing tools (like that one that allows you to splice a block in half... but only horizontally), etc. I very much enjoyed DQB2, but i have to agree its a bit too handholdy and dialogue heavy; maybe a text skip button would help (specially for the omnious text lol).

Also i want inn signs and the like to be part of sets like the Tree Swing or Potted flower, for instance i imagine Door + 2 Blocks (any) + Inn Sign = Room detected as an inn. There’s plenty of room for new Sets (again, no pun intended)

Most of the stuff i want could be achieved by giving the team a bigger budget, but given i’ve absolutely loved both games i trust the team regardless. I trust in Kazuya Ninou!

[frozenmiwa]

Review: Rise of the turtles, part 2 (TMNT 2012)

Here we go again, I know it’s been a while. Originally, I meant to get this review out during the quarantine last March but I never got to it. I got the first season on DVD during March and I thought of just watching the episodes from DVD instead of finding them online. During June I got myself a problem however: My TV broke (or more precisely: speakers broke) so I couldn’t really watch anything with any kind of audio. Now that I have my new beautiful TV, I thought nothing would be more suitable for my first watch than some TMNT.

With that, I decided to take a notepad, sit on my sofa and watch the second episode.

Continuing the last episode, Turtles realize who ever took April and her father, may have some answers to what happened to them 15 years ago so they end up interrogating Snake, the man who was driving the van. While they find out the “people” doing these kidnappings are called “The Kraang” and that they have been kidnapping scientists from the city, they don’t find out why. Snake himself doesn’t know the answer, he tells the turtles where they can find the Kraang but manages to get away from them later on. While he is listening in Leo and Raph trick him into believing they are going to use his van to drive in as they are attempting to save April and her father – which is not actually way they plan to use his van. The turtles return to the lair to gear up for their mission. Raph has a tender moment with his pet turtle while Mikey pops up and ends up being chased by Raph with spoon. While Leo is having doubts whether their plan will be a success or not, Splinter then encourages Leo by telling about his past, of how Splinter – as a man lost everything due to a feud with a former friend, Oroku Saki. While Splinter may have lost his family and his name, but he eventually gained a lot of things, like his sons. Leo not completely sure about things, he is positive they will make it through the mission somehow

In the Kraang headquarters April makes a hilarious attempt on escaping and failing at it, while Snake and the Kraang guards outside are waiting for the turtles to arrive. Turtles are on their way alright, using the van as a distraction while they themselves use a different way of transport. When the turtles have found their way inside the building, it turns out it is not something you’d see every day as the place is filled with alien robots. After a while they manage to find April and her dad, however once the turtles are about to get them out, the Kraang appeared and took both humans away. Turtles chase after them but a newly mutated Snake (later named Snakeweed by Mikey) shows up and turtles find themselves yet another battle. This leaves Donnie to save April before she’s taken away by the Kraang. While Donnie manages to save April, her father isn’t quite as lucky as he is still at the clutches of the Kraang.

In the end rest of the turtles manage to take care of Snakeweed – even though not permanently. April moves in with her aunt and is determined to get her father back somehow, the turtles (or mainly Donnie) offer their help in the matter and thus gain their first human ally. So, all is well – or as well as it can be at the moment.

Or is it?

As turtles find out, one of their shuriken ends up in the news, while turtles think it’s cool, Splinter tells them to be more careful from now on as they are mainly meant to say hidden for their own good. And he is right about that as we find out someone very sinister is seeing this very same news broadcast in Japan and plans on visiting an old friend…

What I liked about the episode:

+ Over all this was a very good episode, it had a solid plot, good pacing and great action scenes. Even that one where April tries put up a fight. I found that scene very comical and entertaining. However, my favorite fight scene had to be the one where the turtles face off newly mutated Snakeweed.

+ Speaking off Snakeweed, I’m glad we saw what his mutation process looked like. As far as I can remember I don’t think we have seen mutation scenes in previous shows, so I haven’t really payed the process much attention until now. From what I could tell the whole process was painful and it had horror-esque feel to it, so that’s a plus.

+ I know I didn’t give April much of praise on my first review and it is no secret I hate her with burning passion, but in this episode, I found myself kind of liking her character. She wasn’t someone I would go nuts over, but her personality showed off nicely. Nothing of her personality came off as forced and I liked her interactions with Donnie even though I do not ship Apritello in this version.

+ I really liked the ending, it wrapped out the episode nicely but also brought up a new threat in Shredder while not giving away too much when it comes to his appearance. This helps to keep his character as sinister as he should be.

What I didn’t like:

Honestly, I don’t think there was a thing I didn’t enjoy about this episode, and that’s a first. My only complaint doesn’t have to do with the episode itself but the way the episode was put on DVD. I’m perfectly aware this episode was meant to be one parter, but it in some releases it was presented as a two parter. I remember seeing this one as parts 1 and 2 myself when it aired in my country. I would have liked if the DVD did the same, but oh well, at least I got to watch the whole thing as it was intended.

…I don’t have lot to say about the dub Finland eventually got, simply because I don’t remember much about it. What I do remember I did enjoy Shredder’s Finnish voice. He was voiced by Jarmo Mäkinen, who voiced Valtor from Winx Club as well as Savanti Romero and Zanramon for the third season of TMNT 2003. While he didn’t have deep voice like Kevin Michael Richardson but that didn’t stop him from sounding menacing. I think Mäkinen is similar Markus Bäckman who voices Splinter in a way they sound great as villains. What I like about Mäkinen is that he is able to portray his villains (and I’m mainly talking about his interpretation of Prime leader Zanramon in the season 3 of TMNT 2003) as chill one moment and threatening the next. So, I would say he was a good pick for Shredder. Now I only wish I could have a good memory of him voicing Shredder.

And now, some screen shots!

Turtles seeing the mutagen cannister. I really love their expressions here.

Raph about to do some interrogation....

...In a form of mutation roulette. One of my favorite scenes in the episode. I like the glowing effect they did with the ooze here.

Kraang base.

“What? I can be the only one who’s hungry.” - I can relate.

Everyone here: Mikey, weren’t you supposed to do something?

Leo and Raph looking for Snake.

Snake hiding.

Donnie at work.

Raph busted after having a sensitive talk with his pet turtle, Spike.

“Were you talking to your pet turtle? That is so adorable.”

Leo having some doubts. Luckily Splinter has a story to tell.

Last battle between Hamato Yoshi and Oroku Saki. I swear from this angle young Oroku Saki does remind me of Hamato Yoshi from 2003 series.

Tang-Shen with their baby daughter Miwa, during the battle.

Oroku Saki starting the fire...

...Which kills Tang-Shen (at least it seemed so before season two that is.)

April knows her rights alright..

But because the Kraang don’t care about their rights she comes up with a plan...

...Buuut it doesn’t look like it’s working.

“Well I guess we can just sit here..” - I must say I like coloring of their cell.

Snake and some Kraangdroids waiting for turtles’ arrival.

Snake mutation.

Turtles climbing the wall.

And they made it in. I really like they gave each turtle different eye color in this version but during action scenes they still have white eyes like in the comics.

Argument between Donnie and Raph.

Some alien robots.

...But now they are toast.

It’s a brain thing!

And now it’s biting Mikey!

This is what happens when you pause an episode at a random moment. Mikey looks cute though.

You heard him Raph, we are going that way.

Donnie manages to find April’s cell.

Action with Mikey.

Donnie picking the lock.

“Hey, do you think it’s easy to pick a lock with these hands?”

Not so fast...

...Because these guys are here.

And with them, more trouble arrives.

Like newly mutated Snakeweed for example.

April being taken away by the Kraang.

Leo figuring out the plan to get rid of Snakeweed.

...While Donnie is trying to save April.

And now it’s April’s turn to hang in there.

April saved by Donnie.

Leo in action.

Snakeweed electrocuted.

Turtles have gained themselves some new enemies.

It’s Kraangy! ...Wait, that doesn’t happen until season 2... or 3... can’t remember.

Turtles promise to help April find her father.

Maybe it’s just me but I find April’s pupils creepy looking. They make her eyes look souless... at least to me.

I swear Donnie has the cutest design ever.

Leo talking to Splinter inside the dojo.

Watching the news.

Okay, who dropped this?

Yay, they made it on the news!

So what’s the worst thing can happen?

Well there’s always this omnious person.

Ending still.

Okay I admit, I may have over do it with the screen shots but they are my favorite thing about these reviews, that and getting to watch some TMNT.

So, what’s next? For now, I’m going for the third episode of TMNT 2003. Hopefully it doesn’t take as long as this post. We can always hope, right?

[postcardsfromsimtopia]

However, before Cynthia could give said job-offers more than a fleeting glance, an omnious gurgling sound called for her attention. A cautious peek into the bathroom revealed, that indeed toilette, sink and bathtub had once again broken down unanimously and were now sprouting water more merrily than the fountains at Von Haunt Estate. As if afraid to be left out, the pipes on the wall had joined in, adding a little dripping to the water-play.

Cynthia was still busily trying to counteract the flood, when Ivy returned home from school. With Cynthia busy in the bathroom and no snacks readily available, Ivy pushed the pile of letters on the kitchen table aside and started to do her homework. Only when she was staring blankly into the space before her while pondering an especially tricky question, did Ivy take note of the letters on the very top of the pile.

“Sis,”  Ivy shouted, a little louder than stricktly neccessary, “you got offered a job to get the Belle Pepper back on track?” In the bathroom, Cynthia grunted affirmatively, still trying to pull the wrench-wheel on the wall pipes tighter. “Isn’t that the place that killed someone with their curry and has the urn on display over the bar,” Ivy continued unperturbed, “it says here “improve our menu while remaining true to the establishment’s unique flair and reputation” does that mean they want you to create a menu that kills sims?” The dripping stopped. Cynthia took back a step and brushing sweat of her brow scrutinized her handywork. “I guess so,” she replied.

The door pushed open and Ivy stepped in, by now she had reached job-offer number two. “The other one is from Brindleton Bay. It says, they want to turn The Bay into a place for sims to spend their holidays. “Moving costs will be covered and you and your family will be provided with a adequate cottage near the town-center,” Ivy read, “They pay next to nothing and an adequate cottage probably doesn’t even have pipes that can clog, but we’d get to leave this sorry mess ... and a cottagey thing sure has space for Miss Caramel and a dog!” Cynthia had just turned to explain that she had not accepted the job, that she did not want to leave for Brindleton of all places and that they had to think of Phil too. But before Cynthia could mention any of those things, the pipe behind her burst and drenched her completely while Ivy jumped back into the living room with a yelp.

Still unsure of what to do about the job-offers, Cynthia had sworn Ivy to secrecy. A promise, Cynthia assumed, Ivy had never intended to keep in the first place. By next morning her sister had spilled the news to Phil, cottage and the possibility of dogs included. “Sounds like a good offer, “ Phil commented over breakfast. “Why wouldn’t you want to go? It’s the new start you hoped for,” he asked before shoving a spoonful of porridge in his mouth. “It’s not what I hoped for,” Cynthia grumbled, “It would feel like running away. Besides, what about you?” Cynthia tried to change the subject but Phil was having none of it. “The Bay is highly unpopular, nasty smugglers and nothing b’sides fishing to pass the time. I’d get a transfer in a heartbeat,” he waved off her concerns. Pressing the matter he continued: “But you can’t seriously want to rather hang out in this sorry excuse for living space to get back at ...” Temper rising Cynthia cut him off: “It’s not about getting back at Siobhan, not only. And the aparment’s not nearly as bad as the two of you make it sound.” As if on cue, three things happened at once: The gurgling in the bathroom started anew, the electricity died with sparks and hissing and in the bedroom a mouse squeaked, obviously equally perturbed by the lack of comfort the apartment provided.

Her words died on Cynthia’s tongue. Phil, always the calmer of the two of them, simply raised his eyebrows and continued to chew his breakfast. Cynthia sighed. “Alright, I give up,” she said, defeat in her voice, “get your dog, I’ll write back to this Miss Lynx and tell her I take the job.” Phil smiled, Ivy whooped, Cynthia gritted her teeth and outside on the balcony Miss Caramel was having a quiet breakfast, blissfully oblivious to the commotion and the impending dog.

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