#so did the rest... so many things i could draw about this short fight so many things happened

[fauchart]

Barbarian Rage (born out of love)

[danny-doodles]

Steve’s Hobby

This is a short 2k blurb about one of my Steve hcs, I am only really good at critical analysis writing so I’m sorry if this is bad!! Creative writing isn’t my strong suit but I felt like I couldn’t really explain this hc in a drawing as well as writing it could.

Growing up Steve was often taught the importance of words from his father, thinking it would be useful for his son’s future in the business. Steve was never the best reader, letters jumping around the page made it too difficult, so instead he listened to everyone around him. Teachers, his parent’s coworkers, older kids, all of them taught him the importance of the meaning of words.

How certain words would make someone a town pariah yet others a god among men. Steve was a more quiet kid but as he grew up he also grew confident in his words. He could tear someone down with one sentence, ensuring they knew he was not to be messed with. That’s why he was so confused when he struggled in his english class, he knew the power of words and the many meanings, but his teacher never understood. Sure he made grammar errors, how no one else struggled with the dancing letters he didn’t get, but how could the teachers not understand his connections? Steve shouldn’t have to explain why the red of the handmaid’s cloaks represented the ripping of humanity from the women, it was so clear to him. Obviously the boar head could be comparable to the church, how could his teachers not make the connection?

Even Nancy didn’t understand, someone he considered smarter than him. He knew she was trying to be nice when she critiqued his college paper but it still left him in the fog. Basketball was war to him, a fight that was pointless with one but possible with many. A challenge that called for leadership and a strict order. Everyone had the roles, knew where and when to shoot, needed the ability to think quickly on their feet and not struggle under the pressure. Uniforms to not only separate from the enemy but to show they are a unit reaching for a common goal. It was so clear leaving no need to explain, especially to Nancy.

But she didn’t get it, no one got it.

Maybe he wasn’t as good with words as he thought.

Steve from then on fumbled his words when he got nervous, scared he would say something that made him sound dumb and point out his weakness with words. The concussions didn’t help either, making him take longer to grasp concepts. Reading felt nearly impossible, the headaches were unbearable. Not to mention the kids' comments, judgmental and brutal as if Steve didn’t have a reason to struggle in the first place.

Everyone around him loved to put him in a sudden spotlight and when he didn’t say the right line he was booed off stage and dealt with the looks of disappointment from his co stars for messing up. So Steve stuck to what he knew, his quick remarks. Were they bitchy? Yes, but not coated in malice like they used to be. Piggybacking off others points with sarcastic comments so the other person kept talking, anything to get the attention of him.

But Steve had a secret hobby that he shared with no one, not even with his platonic soulmate with a capital P Robin.

Steve wrote poetry.

Years of horrors that by law he couldn’t share that caused vicious nightmares and a clammy grasp on reality at times tended to keep Steve up. Another gift bestowed by his father though was a feeling of shame when sharing his emotions. Didn’t help that those emotions were typically down played or outright ignored by others. Therefore a bottle filled with his emotions rested in Steve’s chest, which after Vecna he really realized probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do. So Steve took to writing them down, but he did it for himself.

No need to explain everything, he knew what he meant, he knew every context of every word. He wrote on his experiences, his emotions. He wrote when he was happy, he wrote when he was sad. Steve wrote and wrote and found his love for words again. And god did it feel good, it felt like taking back his voice from a world that underappreciated it. In a weird way it felt like revisiting a relative he had last seen as a child, that sense of freedom and the loss of expectation because in their eyes he was still that little kid. All they wanted was to see someone they loved and to Steve the words welcomed him back with a hug that rivaled his Nonna Maria’s.

Steve would ponder over lines at random intervals of the day, biting his pencil between his teeth during the quiet hours at work or simply jotting down a line right before picking the kids up. Steve wrote so often he kept his small little notebook on him at all times, usually accompanied by a pencil bound to it with a rubber band. (Turns out having hearing aids and glasses made it really difficult to put pencils behind one's ears). At this point everyone had seen his notebook, pale blue with some star stickers because he never had a shortage of them. Everyone assumed it was for something different. Some thought it was grocery lists, to-do lists, something productive. Others thought it was like a pocket calendar with all his plans listed so he didn’t forget. Dustin insisted it was meant to hold the definitions of anything D&D related so Steve never forgot, meanwhile Robin argued it was to hold all the wonderfully obscure movie recommendations she loved to give. All of them were wrong though and Steve kind of adored it that way. He didn’t have to explain himself that way, he could continue to hide under the blankets. Steve no longer held his tongue out of fear of others but because he had an outlet he much rather prefer.

Listening now felt less like a pop quiz, waiting for him to mess up his response, it felt like an actual conversation. Steve may not speak up as much as he would have before the Upside Down but he fell back in love with his own voice and maybe one day he would feel confident enough to share it with the Party, but for now it was all his.

No matter how much they wanted to prove who was right, the kids and older teenagers never touched the book when it was rarely separated from Steve. Well...after someone tried to grab it and they learned they really shouldn’t touch it.

While at the Harrington house the Party were preparing for a campaign session when the argument about the pale binded pages was brought up again. Steve had left it on the kitchen counter while he went to the bathroom, and Mike decided he was done with the bickering. He shot up and went to retrieve and open the book but before he could grab it the book flew through the air.

All the heads turned and landed on El holding it in her hand, “We are not Steve, this is his. It is rude to invade his privacy, would you like me to watch you without telling you,” everyone quietly shook their heads, “Then we do not watch Steve without him knowing.”

That’s exactly when Steve walked back in, it takes one look across the room at all the embarrassed faces and El holding his book with frustration painting her eyes to know what had occurred while he was gone. He walks up, kisses El on her head and softly thanks her while taking back his little literature.

After that incident no one dared touch the book or face the wrath of their favorite mage. They would find out when Steve was ready for them to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That damn little book haunted Eddie’s thoughts. He knew Steve was not what he assumed him to be so anything was on the table, he had been wrong about the guy before who's to say he won’t be this time?

Of course Eddie wanted to respect Steve’s privacy because Eddie personally would be mortified if Steve had seen any of his notebooks, mainly because of the pages of lyrics that not so subtly hinted at an itsy bitsy affection for the badass babysitter. If that didn’t give Eddie away the random ‘Eddie Harrington’ and ‘Steve Munson’ with hearts all over would finish the job. So yeah, Eddie was not crazy to offer up any of his notebooks to venture into Steve’s book. He just had no idea the universe would present him with a much more favorable offer.

Steve and Eddie started hanging out a lot more after Vecna, no shocker considering they shared a hospital room, and soon the bat buddies would spend their time together outside of the hospital. That’s why it wasn’t surprising for Steve to let Eddie venture into Steve’s room while he went to pick up their lunch.

Eddie was somewhat of a curious cat, so when he spotted the notebook and some papers scattered on Steve’s desk he was like a moth to a flame. He softly glided his fingers over the blue cover and exhaled some breath in a soft laugh over the star stickers Steve oh so loved. It was the paper though that caught his eye when he finished observing the book. It looked like lyrics at first but then he realized some of the lines were too short to be lines, if anything they looked more like stanzas from a poem. Steve had poetry on his desk, did Steve read poetry? Thee Steve Harrington likes poetry? God his whole doctrine was garbage huh. Eddie moved the paper towards him and started to read.

Watchful gaze

Setules on the glass.

Wishful gaze

Silent pleas of escaping rolling in the mouth

Fingertips slipping through the veil,

Grasping for warm hands,

Receiving lukewarm.

Hesitant to grab.

Dependency clasping the palms

Such a feverish feeling

Poking at the appendages,

A coldness that numbs.

Gently gripping for the heat,

The balmy yields.

Smoke and simmers,

Arms rushing to sides

Frozen.

Yearning for ardor,

Turn not yet given,

Waiting for the impossible,

Waiting for the unobtainable,

So understanding.

So relieving.

So desperate.

So alone.

Standing for the calling.

So patient.

So pathetic.

Empty Hands by Steve H.

Eddie was staring at the very last line on the paper, utterly flabbergasted. Steve wrote this? Steve writes poetry?! Is that what resides in the little book? Before Eddie could even find the power to turn to the book to look, Steve walked into his room. Again a quick look is all Steve needed to take before he knew what happened in his absence.

“Oh! Uh..I’m guessing you read it.”

Eddie slowly looked back up while caressing the paper, “Yeah, you..um..you really wrote this? Is that…uh..what’s in your notebook? Cause I will admit I never would have guessed that.”

Steve started scratching his neck, “I don’t blame you,” he huffs, “But yeah I write poetry, helps to let some of the thoughts out considering our lives y'know?”

“I totally get it dude! Lord knows my lyrics are infected with the whole spring break bullhonkey. So..totally cool if you don’t want to tell me but, why is this one out of the book? Were you gonna write it into the book?” Eddie picked up the paper to place it next to the notebook and turned to face Steve.

“Actually I copied it from the notebook, I’m gonna, okay wait, you can’t tell anyone this-”

“Even Robin?” Eddie exaggerated his smile to look wild.

“Even Robin.” Steve nodded with his eyes shut.

Eddie put his hands together and swayed while standing, “Wowww look at me, lil old Eddie Munson getting to learn the secrets of the mysterious writer Steve Harrington.”

“Eddie, you want to know or not?” Steve sighed as he put his hands on his hips.

“Yes. Yes please,” Eddie eagerly replied, barely letting Steve finish his sentence.

“The last time I went to Indy with Robin to go shopping at their mall we went to a cafe. The bulletin board had a flier for a poetry night and I got curious I guess.”

“You gonna perform the poem there?”

“That’s the plan.”

Eddie could understand wanting a fresh slate when it came to having a reputation. “Craving anonymity? Must be tough considering you are Hawkin’s golden boy.”

Steve smiles brightly and Eddie sees his shoulders lose tension, tension Eddie didn’t even notice because he was so distracted by the fact that holy shit Steve is a poet. “Exactly.”

Honestly Eddie would give anything to hear more of Steve's hidden works, he grabs some of his hair and brings it to cover his mouth, “I know you don’t intend to tell the rest of the bunch, but uh..would you allow a humble bard to observe your lyrical performance?”

Eddie looks at Steve’s face for any hint of annoyance and finds none, instead he finds a look that he could hope to be correct in his guess is excitement.

“Really? You’d want to hear more, it's not confusing or stupid to you?” Steve softly smiled at Eddie, making him swoon inside.

“It's art! It doesn’t need to make sense, it just needs to make you feel good, who cares if others are confused. And for what its worth even if I’m not right on the money that poem made me feel Steve, I mean as the expert in self-expression it felt real and vulnerable, y’know.” Eddie had to shut himself up before he himself waxed poetry about just how much he is dying to hear more from Steve to learn more about him.

“Thanks Eddie.” Steve gazed at Eddie as if no one had ever told him that before. Which now that hes thinking about it that’s probably the truth. Guess Eddie needed to constantly remind him then.

Eddie smiled, mirroring Steves while bending at his waist, “Oh but of course my liege.”

“Oh my god okay Eddie cmon the food’s gonna get cold.”

Steve started to leave his room and Eddie rushed to follow him, “Now that I know what the book is filled with may I pretty please read it?” Rapidly blinking his eyelashes in an attempt to look innocent and pure but instead looking like a piece of dust got in his eyes.

“Nope.”

“Ugghhh c'mon Steve! Just imagine the look on the little hellions when they see me opening the book! God the jealousy! The feeling of betrayal when they see me reading Steve Harringtons’s treasure trove of text and they are none the wiser to what is inside. And the best part, I have permission! The power I would hold Steve! The possibility, I could use them like little puppets to do my bidding while they crave information I alone hold!”

“Eddie that sounds like a headache for me waiting to happen, they’re just gonna badger me to tell them because they would claim it’s unfair you know and they don’t.”

“Eh, their egos could take a little hit don’t you think?” Eddie was now resting his head on Steve’s shoulder as the younger started to bring the food out of the carry out bag.

“Can I read your lyric notebook?”

Eddie’s eyes went wide as his brain proceeded to remind him of every lyric he had written around his devotion to Steve. Red in the face Eddie responded quickly, “Nope! Mmm you smell that Stevie I’m so hungry, aren’t you?”

“Subtle Munson.”

“Tis my middle name.”

Steve fondly rolled his eyes, “Sure.”

As they settled down on the couch Eddie tracked Steve grabbing the remote, “So I can really watch you?”

Steve turned and looked at Eddie with a calmness on his face. “Yeah Eddie.”

Eddie grabbed his hair as Steve stared at him, “Cool, cool, it’s a date.” Eddie froze about to panic silently as he tried to fix his slip up.

“Yeah, it's a date.” The two looked at each other, neither wanting to look away. After a minute or so Steve turned on the TV and if the two fell asleep together it was their business.

[authorred]

Doctor's Orders | Part 1 | Li Shen/Zayne x fem!Reader | Love and Deepspace |

Preface: As someone who chronically ignores her cardiologist's orders, what happens when that backfires on you worse than normal? Recovering from a life-threatening run-in with a wanderer, it's up to your doctor to put you back together.

This is entirely self-indulgent bc I love this man and this game is so pretty for no reason????? Download that shit (not sponsored, they're just my husbands fr)

Part 2

Warning(s): Mentions of bodily injuries, blood, near-death experience, SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 5!

You didn’t mean to stumble into another fight—it literally came to you. The aether core in your heart has begun to act up, resulting in you short of breath and lightheaded upon any sort of physical exertion. Your heart rate would increase dramatically in compensation which in turn made your evol act up—it was a shit show. Because of that Doctor Zayne firmly instructed you to rest until the core in your heart settled so tests could be run to determine the stability.

You wish you could’ve followed his orders—and you were, very well—but a wyrmlord’s protofield suddenly appeared around your apartment, trapping everyone and you inside of it. Xavier was gone, and you were the only Hunter stronger enough to fight it; you did everything in your power to ensure no one would get hurt. The Wanderer was strong, and you knew if you went full out your evol could get out of control—not to mention the core in your heart would act up, and you'd go into cardiac arrest.

You look around yourself to the frightened people huddling together as a feeble way to protect themselves from the monstrous metaflux monster. If you weren’t here they’d all be dead within seconds. You made an oath, and you will honor it until all life leaves your body.

Drawing your sword, you slide your hand down the smooth, sharp blade. Tendrils of black coil out and wrap and wind in the air. I’m sorry, Zayne. Please don’t kill me for this. The wyrmlord flies at you and you encase yourself in a layer of darkness, of which it absorbs the impact. You spin the sword between your arms for momentum before stabbing it through the shield, and the darkness follows. It pierces into the wanderer, leaving it to cry out in pain. It's not a difficult fight—this is rather easy for you—well, it would be if your heart wasn't an issue. You're not fighting at 100% capacity. Right now, you're at 67%.

The wyrmlord lets out a shriek before sending spikes of stone and ice to come up from under you. You're forced to move, dashing to the side quickly. One of the spikes nicked you on the outside of your knee, sending it buckling. You trip to your hands and knees but force yourself to keep moving out of the range of the wanderer. With your back essentially turned to it, it takes that opportunity to break from your shadows to lunge at you.

~ There is no such thing as a break at Akso Hospital--not for Zayne, that is. The head of Cardiology, chief cardiac surgeon, and one of the most gifted doctors of his generation has little time to relax, other than what time is granted to him. Though, he seems to enjoy the business of his life. It's not often he complains about his packed schedule and lack of vacation time. He stays professional at all times, never letting his personal feelings mix with his professional ones. He treats all his patients with patience and respect but very rarely is he emotionally involved. The last person he felt personally involved in was your grandmother.

However, he wasn't sure if he could keep his personal feelings out of this particular situation. He heard the paging of a patient being wheeled into the ED but he wasn't the one paged. Walking down one of the many corridors connecting to the ED he caught a glimpse of the person being hauled to the OR and he does a double take. His feet stay rooted to the floor but his eyes stare at the parade of nurses and techs following the gurney. Is that. . .

There is no way for him to confirm it yet--he wasn't the one called for the case. Not able to stick in one place for a long time he forces himself to look away and finish walking to his destination, body feeling light and dizzy. Something inside of him told him to call you—something wasn't right, and he needed to be sure one way or another. When he got to a relatively quiet area, he took out his phone and navigated to your contact under his favorites. The line rang for an agonizingly long time until it finally went to voice mail, of which your voice delicately greeted him with a, 'Sup bitch, I'm either busy or dead. Say what you want now or say it to my gravestone, it depends'. Zayne slowly lowered the phone from his ear—you're supposed to be resting, there's no reason as to why you shouldn't be answering your phone. You always answer him when he calls or texts.

The pit in his stomach sinks deeper into his gut and doubt gnaws at him. Could the person that was just wheeled in for emergency surgery really be you? He'll have to wait until the OR is finished or wait until he's paged. He wishes to the gods it's not you, and if it is, he wishes you'll pull through whatever is wrong.

[brisquad-unit-4402]

nightmare hug

it’s my birthday today btw. december 15. sonny be upon ye. i started three new wips with him in the last few weeks ack i wasn’t kidding when i said he was very in my head lately!

tags: gender neutral reader, established relationship, hurt/comfort, cuddling

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You wake up in bleariness and immobility. Underneath the pile of blankets, a greater weight holds you down, stifling your skin and refusing to let you turn out of your position.

It’s nothing to fear. If anything, it’s welcomed. Usually Sonny keeps to his own side of the bed, and the most contact you wake up to is a limb barely touching yours. On the rare occasions he falls asleep with you in his arms, he’s quick to hide it, and considering how he’s the first to wake between you there’s no telling how many morning cuddles you’ve missed out on.

Long fingers and short nails wire around your waist. If you can’t hear his breathing, then you can feel it: a steady rise-and-fall rhythm along your shoulder where he presses his head. His hair prickles your skin while his breathing soothes.

A slow morning hum falls out of your mouth as your voice comes back to life. It’s the prelude to fully waking up, and when Sonny retracts his arms before you can open your eyes.

Except he doesn’t. Even as you snort awake, his hands remain where they are.

“Good morning, Sonny,” you start. You’re so sleepy that it barely becomes a whisper.

It surprises you that he’s just as sleepy as you, too. “Morning.”

“How’d you sleep?”

You’re greeted with silence.

“Not great?”

Sonny buries his head closer to your neck without a word. “That bad, huh.”

When he mumbles you can feel his throat vibrate against your skin. “Mmmyeah.”

“Awww. Well, it’s morning.” You force one arm out of the blanket pile and manage to pat his head. “Don’t worry. I’ll fight off the bad sleep demons any day of the week.”

“I just want a hug.”

“Hugs over fights? Who are you and what did you do to Sonny—“

His hands squeeze tighter. You didn’t even know his nails could dig into your skin like this. He’s clinging on like you’re a stuffed animal, but the amusement ends once you realize that’s not just a sleepy tremble. Sonny is actually quivering.

It’s even rarer for Sonny to let himself be vulnerable.

“C’mon.” Your voice goes soft as you turn around to face him. He stays where he is, holding you while his head is buried to your throat.

He’s practically motionless save for his quivers, which you work out by stroking his back. Your hand draws circles along him, occasionally punctuated by a pat or two. “You’re where you belong, right here at home. You’re safe with me.”

His breath, too, is shaky, little clouds of heat curling around your chest as he tries to form words. “I don’t even remember what it was about. I shouldn’t be so…” His grip tightens. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. These things happen. It doesn’t make you any less of a person, and it doesn’t make you a nuisance, either.”

He grunts. “Feels like I’m a failure whenever I’m like this, though.”

His hair is silky under your hands, and softer under your lips. “I love you, Sonny. No matter what you think of yourself, I’ll still love you, and I’ll always remind you that you deserve to be loved.” Another kiss to his temple. “Thank you for trusting me enough to let your guard down. Being the one you can rely on is a privilege to me, and one I do not take lightly.

“I don’t think you could ever be a failure, even if you tried,” you say. “You take such good care of me, so I’ll happily return the favor. It’s what I’m here for.”

When you stop talking, nothing follows but quiet. It’s just the sound of your arm brushing against sheet and skin as you massage him, soothing whatever unspoken worries he has left.

When you raise his head your fingers rest along his jaw. “You’re my hero, Sonny. You’re the strongest person I know. No matter what.”

One of his pale hands bumps along to yours. His palm drags against the corner of his hidden eyes. His lashes flutter by the crease of your lip as you kiss the stress away.

Sonny’s shoulders raise when you part with eyes barely open, tide pool blue glossed over with restraint and legs tangled around yours, stunned and scared, a combination you’ve never seen on him.

The restraint falls with a hiccup. He chokes on air as you hold him. His hands lower you down as he clings to you, and for the first time in a long time, Sonny allows himself the right to cry.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi

[rjshepherd]

so yall might have guessed by my late night dishonored posting but i got into the games recently and now i have brainworms.

anyways heres some art featuring spymaster daud, post lobotomy Jindosh, Lamb (but make her void spicy) and low chaos ending Outsider.

also have some headcanons below the cut

Pose refs by Mellon-soup

Daud

After fighting him in the flooded district, Corvo makes a deal with Daud to serve as spymaster as a sort of community service to the empire he's partially responsible for kneecapping.

No one is happy about this, least of all Daud.

But as an important lesson to Emily, sometimes you have to put your feelings aside for the good of the Empire. People are tools and it's up to her to use them properly. Daud quickly proves he really is the best man for the job.

Daud is constantly cold, even in serkonos. He seems to think this is because he is void touched but Corvo is the opposite, he metabolises like a house on fire.

Since he's always cold he's taken to wearing a lot of layers. This has the added benefit of padding his falls or protecting him from sword slashes.

When he came to work at dunwall tower, most of the whalers followed suit, watching from the rooftops for dauds command to take the place over. Only the order never came and with nothing else to do the whalers decide to join up.

Daud has an incredible sweet tooth but after losing so many teeth to that corrupted bone charm he decided he couldn't afford to lose more to cavities.

In his limited free time from his duties Daud enjoys playing with the castles wolf hounds.

Kirin Jindosh

After his impromptu electro lobotomy he was dazed and very confused for months but did eventually regain some of his intelligence.

Despite that he still struggles with his short term memory, coordination, tinnitus and sleepwalking.

Kirin also lost the sight in one of his eyes due to the high voltage of the machine damaging the vitreous of his eye.

His hand wasnt damaged by the shock but he replaced the entire thing to help with his tremors.

He spends most of his time now in wei-gon researching the insects that live in the countries unique flora.

The Outsider

After being freed by Billie she quickly realises she's not up for being someone's responsible adult and promptly delivers him to dunwall tower.

Developed a strange sort of sibling relationship with Emily.

He spends most of his time travelling and drawing. Would probably attract sokalovs attention had he not already left for tyvia.

Despite being disconnected from the void, he still has powers similar to the marked that he can use for traversal.

The scars from his fatal wounds weren't present when he left the void but developed over time.

He spends a lot of time with jindosh, drawing and the rest of the time in Morley with Lamb.

The little bag he's carrying with the whale patch was a gift from her. It contains all his art supplies.

Lamb

Transplanted lamb from bg3 world so I could have a DH oc lmao

She's part of an au with @je-suis-problematique . She's sort of a void creature who deals with souls. She's mostly hanging around observing things and the changeable nature of the void in low chaos Vs high chaos

Got kicked out of the void around dh1 by the envisioned for trying to help the outsider.

Landed pretty much smack dab in the middle of the flooded district, kinda got taken in by Daud and the whalers for a few months (read as: they couldn't get rid of her and she made good food so she got to stay)

By dh2 she is running an apothecary, traveling between the isles to acquire herbs and plants.

If the Overseers ask her eyes are a " medical condition"

I don't feel like expanding on it BC this au only appeals to me and my frendo but lamb has influence from the Kindred so I'm designing a Wolf for her as we speak

[soapskies]

Can I get a scarecrow with a child reader who was so traumatized by the sight of his father's unethical experiments that he became literally a living doll. That is, he is no longer sad, not happy, he has become just like a robot. He does whatever he is told, but there is no more light in his eyes. I will be very grateful if you do with the Tim Sale's version.

SALECROW WITH A BROKEN CHILD READER

MALE READER. SHORT HCS.

— ya’ll really do love your angst huh.

It’s not hard to realize what had happened to you.

You used to have such strong reactions to everything he did, but now even the poke of a needle elicits nothing from you. No more fighting, screaming, thrashing or tears.

Every demand is met with a weak nod, and every dose of toxin makes your bones grow stiffer

Salecrow tries all that he can to startle you, but every attempt doesn’t even draw the smallest hints of a smile out of you.

He enjoyed bossing you around, but he grew bored of how emotionless you were. He couldn’t control you through fear like he did before, take pleasure in how you trembled and cried and rushed to get things done just to avoid punishment.

And it irked him.

He performs many experiments on you to figure out a way to reverse it. Tries every tool under his belt to breathe humanity back into you. But you wouldn’t budge.

Not when he tried to pick apart your thoughts, not when he provided an antidote to his toxin, not when he hugged you for the first time in a long time.

Mind-broken to the fullest extent possible, you were nothing but a soulless shell, unable to feel, unable to fear.

Now, if only he could figure out how to inflict that kind of trauma on the Batman…

He feels a bit of… guilt about it. Especially if he can’t find a way to bring you back.

I guess the rest of your days will be spent helping him out with his plans and having tests run on you out of the vain hope that you will come to your senses.

[rottenbrainstuff]

IWTV S2 ep 5 - the good Young Daniel shit. TW: mild suicidal ideation? imp of the perverse? or something?

Nice, I was really waiting for this one. I just love Young Daniel, I find him so incredibly delightful, and I’m trying to pin down why.

Part of it of course is that the actor does such a good job, part of it is how charming I find his big goofy grin, how he flips back and forth between XD and DX so quickly. But I think it’s also because since episode one we’ve focused mostly on nothing but vampires, who’ve had decades or centuries of trauma and grapple with super-human sorrows and fears, and even old Daniel has had a full life of disillusionment and regret and physical pain. But here's Young Daniel and he is so different from everyone, even his future self, so young and naive and fresh, really the absolute antithesis of every other character we’ve got used to at this point. Maybe that's it.

Armand continues to be so pathetic to me in how simple he is. Like, while I watch all this, I'm reading up on V:tM for my daughter's game, and like. Armand isn't running some elaborate political long-game with complicated motivations only a 7th generation methuselah would understand, it's all just so pathetically basic, he wants someone to love him (Lestat, Louis, Daniel... doesn't matter who) and he doesn't understand why no one loves him like he wants. Man I remember his face back when Louis was talking about his Lestat hallucination, the very bare hurt. So lonely and so simple.

Mr. Easeful Death. I found this whole bit extremely disturbing, because Assad is a good actor and the whole thing is extremely comforting and compelling to me, like an anglerfish lure drawing the deep sea fish right in. It would work on me, in a heartbeat, and I find that disturbing to contemplate, like standing at the edge of a big drop and being terrified of how easy it would be to fall. Armand's little merciful hunting that he talks about in that one short story, finding the people who are so tired of being alive, or finding the people who desperately want to be consumed by a demon lover, and becoming that for them, yeah that would work on me, pathetically easy. Don't Fear the Reaper and all of that jazz - I would be gone, gone immediately, gone before he even finished his spiel. Rest - my god, yes please. I am so tired. And so, I found the whole scene so incredibly disturbing. Armand is the feeling of comfort that comes at the end when someone is freezing to death, the relaxing nitrogen narcosis that urges the deep sea diver to do something stupid and sink to their death, the light that lures the little fish right into the mouth of the anglerfish. That is 500% my jam, that scares the shit right out of me, gentle loving death as a mercy, a service, a putting-out-of-misery, yikes. It's terrifying. I fucking love it.

To my surprise though, Daniel fights against it. He has things he wants to keep working on, his life isn't pointless, he likes his life, he wants to live. Broke my heart. Perhaps you could say that my surprise with his reaction comes from my own extremely bad world view. But I wonder if that's not the normal reaction Armand usually gets. He didn't really react to Daniel's objection - I kind of wish he did, I think it would be neat to establish this was something that sets Daniel apart and surprises Armand. Armand thinks he's grasped the threads that will help him unravel Daniel's resistance, he's done this so many times before, but this time it takes a couple tries to get it right. I wonder if it makes Daniel fascinating to Armand as well. Oh well! Just a thought.

Poor old Louis, poor old everyone.

I had mentioned I had watched some video analysis of the show (which pointed out the characters I thought were new were actually based on stuff from the book, which I had forgot/missed, dummy) Seems that, understandably I guess, ep 5 was (is) controversial. And now I feel like a bad fan, because unlike a lot of people, apparently, I like that Lestat has done something that is actually unforgivable. I am not excusing his behaviour, I think it's inexcusable, and that's why I like it. I... yeah man. I dunno. I feel like a bad fan. Everyone talked about how book Lestat would not do that. And at the time when I first watched the ep, that's exactly what I thought as well - Lestat was always a shit but he was never this bad. Episode 6 made me think back on that some more though. I just... Look, I don't really care for book Lestat. Not towards the end, anyway. To me, as the books went on, he became more and more like someone's bad dnd character, the most special and the most skilled with the most sad backstory and this and that and blah blah blah and not enough realistic flaws to balance things out.

In the video it said gross fans are excusing his behaviour like oh, well, it's because of xyz abuse, it's because of abc thing, my gosh I even saw a post saying that you know maybe the reason for the ep 5 fight was all because of Amel (lore stuff - it's this spirit of violence and rage that infects all vampires) and that wasn't the "real Lestat" at all like... noooooo no no no no no no *sigh*. I'm not excusing anything. I mean, the past abuse puts things into context and makes it sad and interesting because it's a perpetuation of cycles of abuse, but that doesn't excuse it. I like that Lestat has done something legitimately inexcusable. I liked how shocked I was in ep 5 and how convinced by his sincerity I was in ep 6 and I like how that left me conflicted and confused. I like that it's difficult. I don't want it excused or explained or handwaved, I want it to stay ugly and uncomfortable, exactly as it is.

Man. I really do feel like a bad fan though. Am I the only one who can't stand the later books and wants this show to be 6 seasons max? Two seasons each for IWTV, Vampire Lestat and Queen of the Damned. They can inject appropriate bits of Vampire Armand as needed. And then after that, stop. No more. Am I the only one? Anyways. Creeping closer to the end of season 2 now. I can't wait to see more of Madeline and Claudia, even if it's so sadly short before the big bad wrap up.

[fatuismooches]

ITS 💌 ANON!! as per usual i come to you with a headcanon at ungodly hours of the night in my time. i’ve been playing too much honkai star rail…BUT!! fluff and angst combo again 🏃 ure the best :(( pls don’t follow my example and get proper rest !! thanks for always being cool hehe

Dottore making a medicine that actually does work!! you can move around like normal, no longer as tired, and ofcourse- Dottore is thrilled. He’s done it, he kisses them and he takes reader everywhere, every single place he wanted to- he checked everything, they were fine…until suddenly, they fainted and he basically finds out that the medicine could only make everything good for a short amount of time before putting reader in the most excruciating pain possible after, so sadly, zandik curses himself and gets back to work :(( he dosent care about the sacrifices, he dosent care what he has to give and what gets taken away as long as you don’t. He’s a committed man and he’s committed for until after life. Literally will reincarnate with you if he can because he will *not* let go.

TO THE FLUFF THOUGH! zandik taking atleast 1 hour everyday to do something that you like because he realizes that you miss him (and he misses you too). At first he was wary because he wanted to ensure that he could get you cured as soon as possible, but he couldn’t handle it if you were all sad and gloomy either. He didn’t want you to think of yourself as a burden and god forbid, you try to leave again (referring to that one ask where reader leaves bc they feel like a burden,, in feel like he’s be so damn scared…even if he won’t admit it). So reading you a book? sure, just be prepared for many side comments if it’s some cheesy romance novel or him reading a textbook. Drawing? hell, he’ll draw an anatomical heart with you holding it! Cuddling? he’ll wrap you up in his fluffy coat and hug you as much as you want.

- 💌 anon

AWW ILYY 💌 ANON!! Hehe I am trying my best to go to sleep earlier... it's a work in progress. Also i feel you on the HSR brainrot but I'm TBL 57, have no good artifacts since I haven't farmed, and stuck on the deer boss fight 💀 i gotta get on the grind soon 😫🫠 But you better get proper rest too!!! Or else- 💖💖

NOOO THE FLUFF GETS IMMEDIATELY WIPED AWAY TO ANGST- I can't imagine the sheer happiness you two would feel. Reader, of course, would be absolutely elated and very plainly show how delighted they are. You're running, hopping, Dottore even twirls you around and you do a pretty little spin as you fall back into his arms. You're so happy, you haven't smiled or laughed this much in ages. Dottore, as usual, doesn't show nearly as much emotion as you, but don't let that fool you. Internally, he's feeling something he has never felt before, so foreign that normally he'd be trying to get rid of it but this time he knows exactly why he's having this feeling. Thrilled, excited, proud, enthusiastic, words that could not even begin to fully describe this feeling. Centuries of work finally paid off, never to have to be repeated again. To see you so purely happy, makes him look forward to things going back to how they once were. Oh, how much fun you'd have joining him as his assistant again. The whole atmosphere and feelings of the clones in the lab are in sync for once.

Except... it all comes crashing down. Literally. When you collapse in his arms with ragged breaths, skin searing to the touch, actual tears begin to form from how badly it hurts. Immediately the mood from early deflates as he rushes to get you back to normal and ease your suffering </3 To have something he desires right in his hands, just to be snatched away from him with no warning is something he's never experienced before. He is a scholar, possibly one of the most intelligent beings in Teyvat. Such a thing shouldn't have happened to him. But it did, and he has to start over. He probably killed some people to blow off steam. No remorse. Just anger.

Sigh sigh I LOVE THIS SM. Normally, he'd scoff if it was any other activity. Especially when it's boring meetings. A whole hour? For nonsense? He finds it meaningless. His 24 hours are spent doing important things. Important things being research, experiments, notes... and you, of course. You're right, when Dottore has a goal or something he wants to reach, he just throws himself into it. No breaks, nothing, he just wants to make progress, progress, progress. Especially when it's you on the line. He'll refuse any and all contact. But he's come to realize your state deteriorates even more if your needs are not met by him. Not to mention the clones are sending messages to each other internally about how sad you are, which he decides he overhears way too frequently </3 So he knows he has to put a stop into it. (And yes, that ask was sad as hell, I still think about it 😭🥺)

Love how we agree he's a pro at drawing anatomical stuff hehe. You cut out the hearts he draws and put them on your walls or something ;( And also AHHHH THE FLUFFY COAT CUDDLING... No words can describe how much I love that scenario. It's so cute to think about both of you wearing it at the same time... you're on his lap, he's wearing the coat but it's swallowing your whole body up anyway since it's wrapped around, the fluff tickling your face!! <3 The book is in your hand, you both take turns reading it but Dottore interrupts whenever something dumb is said or done. Oh.. but you end up falling asleep since his voice is so relaxing and his chest is so comfy..

Ughhh eternal lovers with Dottore is hitting me right now ;( Especially when you talked about his commitment... hell yes this crazy doctor will not bat an eye at anyone else besides you it doesn't matter how long it's been. For you he has no limits. He always be intrigued and into this person who managed to worm their way into his cruel cold heart...

[bastetwastaken]

If you're still doing the requests and are still open to other ships could you try Wishshipping with this line/theme 👉👈

"If I could, I would kiss away all of your scars."

Preferably Yugi saying it to Jou? Between Hirutani and his dad I feel like Jou probably has a lot of scars that he tries not to be self-conscious about, but it's hard sometimes I bet 🥺

Idk a theme of like "I don't mind your scars but you do so if I could I'd kiss them away" feels really good for them

There doesn't have to be NSFW but I will say I think bottom Jou with Yugi needs more love 👀

Totally understand if that's not your cup of tea though! If you do this thank you, if not thank you for at least providing an opportunity to ask 💙

Hey!!

I love this idea, it's so sweet and you're right, Jou went through it and he'd likely carry some sort of scars from that. Poor guy.

I know this is suuuuuuper short, but I really hope it's sweet for you. (I agree bottom Jou needs more love, but I'm afraid my brain isn't providing the smut right now.)

I hope you have a wonderful day and thank you for your ask <3

........

The bed was warm, the late morning sun crept around the edges of the blinds on the windows and he was content. He would have been happy to lay there for the rest of the day…it was such a shame they had plans with their other friends which required them leaving their home. 

Yugi looked over at his still sleeping boyfriend who was facing away from him, his breathing soft and slow and always soothing to hear.  

He had to fight the urge to close his eyes and fall back asleep again. He would have done, but he knew he needed to be the voice of reason here, and had to be the one to get them both out of bed and to the movies on time. 

The sun hit Jous bare skin and drew attention to the marks which still littered otherwise smooth skin. 

He sighed quietly to himself as he reached out and slowly ran his fingers slowly across the scars on Jous back. He knew what they were, knew what each one meant and who was responsible for them but still, at moments like these he found himself thinking about them just a little too much. 

He felt angry when he looked at them, but that anger wasn’t directed at Jou, never at Jou. It was directed at the people who had harmed him. Those who had caused the pain he knew lay behind each scar on his body…and he had so many. 

The scars themselves didn’t bother him, it was the history behind them that got to him. He wished he could take away the pain they caused. Wished that it had never been caused in the first place. 

“Do they bother you?” Jou asked quietly. His soft voice deep with sleep startled him slightly. 

“No.” He said softly, sliding an arm around Jous waist as he moved closer, pressing his chest against Jous back. “I’m sorry if I woke you.” 

“I was kinda awake anyway.” Jou said with a shrug. 

They were both silent for a while, Jous hand found his where it rested over his stomach and held it tight, pulling him even closer and drawing a soft laugh from his lips. 

“They don’t bother me, by the way.” He said gently, placing a soft kiss on Jous shoulder. “I know how you feel about them though.” 

“I hate them.” Jou whispered. 

“I know.” He replied with another soft kiss to his boyfriend's skin. 

“Everytime I see them I just wish they’d go away.” Jou said sadly. “Even the faded ones still piss me off.” 

“I understand.” He said softly. “They hold so much pain for you…” 

“So many memories I’d be much better without.” Jou sighed. “I just wish things had been different…” 

“So do I, but not because of these.” He dipped his head to press his lips to a large scar under Jous shoulder blade. “But because you didn’t deserve the pain they put you through. You didn’t deserve to suffer as you did.” 

“I wish you could get rid of them like that.” Jou hummed as he moved his lips toward the centre of his back, placing gentle kisses to each mark he found. 

“If I could, I would kiss away all of your scars.” He whispered against his boyfriend's skin. 

“Maybe you already have…” Jou said softly. 

“Hm?” 

He moved away as Jou turned over onto his back, then settled against his chest, looking down at his boyfriend with a soft smile on his face as he waited patiently for whatever he wanted to say. 

“I dunno.” Jou laughed quietly and looked to the side. “I mean, you’ve always helped me with that side of my life, even before all of this happened, you know?” Jou gestured between them and Yugi laughed. 

“Yeah” He said. 

“I think what I mean is…” Jou looked back at him, a hand lifted to cup his cheek and Yugi smiled as he leaned into the touch. “Maybe not in the physical sense, but you’ve done so much to heal those wounds. The pain that they carry.” 

“I’d do it all again.” He said with a smile. “Because I love you, and I care about you.” 

“I love you.” Jou said with a laugh, the hand against his cheek pulled him forward and he went willingly, meeting Jous lips halfway. 

[brick-a-doodle-do]

Little bird hybrid Tommy and cat hybrid Wilbur but Wilbur loves his little son :)

(don't worry lol it's fine)

hi sorry this took years and years and years and years something in the air made me want to write so i finally did :D

also wilbur is a catshifter cause it fit better mmmgfmds

but they say it came out of a small thing

cw: panic ?

wc: 874

—–—

His brain is working, it's letting him shift and letting him pounce to the forest floor, it’s letting him pick sticks up, but he doesn't think that anything about what his brain is telling him to do is logical nor sustainable. In short: Wilbur doesn’t know what he’s doing. 

One rule set in place, no attachments, (Perhaps a common one amongst his kind), and the only thing to have ever gone wrong. Tommy hadn't been anywhere near him when he had gotten the urge to drift to the scent of a bobcat, which he had been eager to avoid at the time. He had managed to save Tommy, a tiny avian nearly tangled in the grasp of the feline. He himself had been a cat at the rescue of the tiny, one that conjured up a fight from the little bird. 

Days later, (And many more intentional meetings), Wilbur had a strange string in his chest pulling at his feline body, not the one that controls his shifts but another one, just as personal yet undefined. 

It made him feel strangely inclined to collect twigs. 

Tommy had no problem with such a thing, instead welcoming at the offering of help from his newfound friend. Wilbur just had to get used to the feeling of being a cat for longer than an hour. He never used the form for much other than exploration, the rest of his time he assumed the profile of Wilbur Soot, a local musician in the bustling city he lived in. 

His cat form offered much more adventure, albeit ones that ended in enforcement of the things he preferred to not participate in. 

Like Tommy. Especially making Tommy a nest. 

Perhaps Wilbur had been a little too caught up in his debate to notice as the avian steps closer to the edge of the branch, murmuring about every other thing that comes to his mind. Wilbur had been half-listening, chirping smally in response but mainly occupied with the precision of his nest job. 

With each satisfying twine of said nest, he’d leap from the branch and land on his paws, then pad off to colllect more sticks and scale the trunk of the tree, adjusting the positions of the twines and repeating the process, leaving Tommy to his own devices.

In what world would (wary) Wilbur have ever considered doing that? It only results in the same outcome:

Tommy’s rambles are cut off with a loud yelp which draws out into a scream, a sound of terror that makes the fur on Wilbur’s neck stand. He turns his head back, carefully balancing his way over to the branch in search of Tommy, eyes as wide as they could be and an unsure whine in the back of his throat. Below him, a miniature splash spills into his ears and suddenly his paws are walking for him, right off the edge of the branch and into open air, panic rising in him that causes a shift mid-air, his form lengthening and causing more of a splash than his cat-self would have. 

Through kicking his feet in a panic, he quickly— while still submerged in the river— shifts back and paddles back up to the top. The feeling of water soaking into his fur makes him internally cringe, the extra weight nearly dragging him down. 

He spots Tommy easily, (Giant red wings couldn't have made it hard),  the tiny looking around for what Wilbur could only assume to be either Wilbur or the culprit of the splash, (Also Wilbur). His wings flutter wildly the longer Tommy fights to stay above the surface. Wilbur paddles closer to the avian, meowing in concern, (And irritation), at the way he flails. 

“Oh—fuck, come here, uh, cat, I completely think there's a human here and I don't think I'm the most skilled swimmer,” Tommy pleads, swirling his fingers together to attract Wilbur as if he wasn't swimming directly Tommy’s way. 

He approached, ducking his head so he can get a grip of the back of Tommy’s shirt, picking him up gently and continuing to paddle his way to shore. 

“Thanks big man,” Tommy applauds, out of breath. Suddenly, he’s reaching back to stroke Wilbur’s nose. He purrs at the action. 

Finally, the depths of the water seem to disperse and he finds his footing on the river bed, then up onto the grassy forest floor. Tommy murmurs something about being let down, but Wilbur promptly ignores it and scouts out their tree, an easy find considering the bark of it had claw marks from Wilbur’s failed attempts at agility. 

Wilbur pounces, latching onto the trunk and carefully climbing up it, tail out for balance and his ears pulled back as he concentrates. He strays to the side as a familiar branch catches his attention, a bundle of twines and leaves settled midway along the branch. 

The avian struggles out of his bite and falls into the cushioned nest. Wilbur sits beside the boy and considers doing something, but only stares at Tommy as he situates himself. 

Wilbur jumps from the branch and lands on his paws. and without a glance back he finds his way back to his home. He has got to stop seeing this tiny. 

—–—

[grandprovidence]

Gameplay Diary 3/11/2024

Hello, short post this week as things were mostly the same as the last session. A lot of roleplay and trying to learn about NPCs. The main topic I want to focus on is actually my friend's game, which we played right after mine. To give background, the other players and I were sent to find out what was making the population of a dungeon act aggressive towards the inhabitants of the village. The first issue that we came across was the fact that we were told that our reward for the quest was based on how many creatures in the dungeon we left alive. The second was the fact that we were on a time limit without information on how long we would need to spend in this mine. The third was that the NPC who gave us the quest had no other information or leads to give us outright. This leads to a group of four adventurers going into a dungeon with a strong “Do not kill” protocol in mind which then leads to all of us running through the dungeon to find the source of the issue as fast as possible. Not ideal if you worked on the dungeon as he did but the optimal strategy for a group who has such limited knowledge. Now the blame can easily be placed on us as players. We didn’t search out any information but, to us, this dungeon could have been large and demanded every second of our time. The problem with a GM blaming players is that it never works. As a GM you should expect players to show up, play your game, and do nothing else. The people you play with are smart, cunning, and good problem solvers. Players, with a capital P, are flighty, quick to act on limited knowledge, and prone to running into more problems than they can solve. All of this made me consider the idea of how GMs make dungeons. There is a large amount of information on how to make an interesting dungeon. The five room rule being one that many people look to along with the ideas of different elevations, a theme that spans through the puzzles, fights, and lore, and ways to guide players through a dungeon so they see everything you want them to. I would like to take all of this game design knowledge and transform it into a way for Providence’s to follow a few steps or guides that will lead them to making an adventure, dungeon included, that helps the Providence know how much EXP each section gives, what kind of knowledge is necessary for the players to not get blindsided, what kind of knowledge is beneficial but not crucial for the players, and how to have different parts of the adventure flow into one another. This is a daunting task as the modularity of an adventure and the Providence’s ability to improv when the players go off of the plan is one of the largest draws for TTRPGS. The idea of just throwing a Providence to the wolves, saying something along the lines of “Dungeons are things in the ground and adventures are fun romps you experience with friends, you figure out the rest” irks me as the GMs, especially those who are new or don’t research level design, can fall into simple pitfalls that make an adventure not live up to what they expect. My main goal of the mechanic will be to assist in avoiding these pitfalls while also keeping the “Adventure outline” simple and easy to make so that a Providence can make up additional sections or entire adventures using the system without too much strain and without ruining the flow of the game. If anyone has any advice with things that are similar to this or have any questions, feel free to send an ask or a message!

[thatcasualgamergirl]

When I was in my single-digits, one of my cousins was really into Dragon Ball. I’d go up to him and watch him play a game about a diverse cast of characters with powers I’ve never seen before. But I pushed it aside, as it didn’t look that interesting at the time.

I knew DBZ had a huge influence on the world. Most of the videos I watched at the time were 2d Sonic sprite animations with choreography and techniques were very heavily inspired by the anime (I mean, look at Nazo Unleashed for example or Super Mario Bros Z). But looking up “dragon ball fights” just to get a taste, I wasn’t nearly as interested in it as the fan-made Sonic fights.

Fast forward to about September 2023. I was 16. While watching YouTube, a short clip about a YouTuber named Lythero playing Dragon Ball FighterZ with his friends. The game looked really fun, so I watched his other videos, and with each one I slowly got more interested in getting this game, even though I barely know anyone the cast besides the one with the orange gi and the rival with the cool armor and the cool device on his ear. So I bought the game for my Switch, started playing it, and then…well…

Something just snapped…

I know through a video game is not the best way to get introduced to a franchise, but boy did this game really did it! It introduced me to so many new characters and aspects, like I didn’t know that this Goku Black and Zamasu were the same guy! AND THEY CAN FUSE?! That hairless cat can destroy worlds with just a finger?! A dude that can skip time itself?! And SO MUCH MORE! It was all mind boggling.

It even got me into actually learning the HUGE story and watching all the iconic fights. I even learned about DBZA and even despite its humorous tone, I could understand the story.

It even got me into drawing these characters and while I did struggle on them for a bit, Toriyama’s art style and how he drew these characters helped me in how to draw them.

I had a new hyperfixation. So when I heard about his death on this here site…

I didn’t know what to feel.

Actually, no. I do know. I should feel glad that I finally have been impacted by his work. I should feel glad that I now understand why is work basically impacted the world. Dragon Ball is at lessons thing that connects all of us. Case in point, I had a conversation about it with a grown man last night after he caught me playing Dragon Ball Legends. We talked about our favorite character (Vegeta), favorite sagas, best moments of the show. It’s convos like that that make it so timeless.

Here is my latest sketch related to Dragon Ball. A drawing of these two Saiyan warriors who have impacted the world.

So on behalf of me and everyone else in the world,

Thank you and Rest in Peace, Akira Toriyama.

- CAZ

[theadventurerslog]

Discworld | Part 1

The Adventurer’s Log

Release Date: 1995

I love Discworld the book series by Terry Pratchett and have done so since I was 13 when I first discovered it by taking Soul Music out of the school library. I'm currently doing a chronological reread and figured I might as well go all in and play the games too while I'm at it. Well, the first two anyway. There are three games, well actually four. Apparently there was an interactive fiction game in 1986 for The Colour of Magic, but I know nothing more beyond that and never see it mentioned. (Have to say I am curious though). For purposes here, however, three games. The first two pull events from the books, while the third focuses on an original character in an original story and that's Discworld Noir, which I would love to try sometime but getting it to run looks like more of a hassle. So for now the first two games.

That said I don't know if I'll go straight to the second one after this one or have some other stuff in between. I'll see how I'm feeling and how things are looking as I already have plans for November and I may want some short stuff for October.

I watched a friend play the second game several years ago, but I don't remember much and I'm pretty sure we didn't do the first game. What I've played so far hasn't been familiar. I'm pretty sure this is a blind play-through and if it's not it may as well be.

As for the Discworld itself, if you don't know, it's a magical flat world resting on the backs of four elephants standing on the back of a giant turtle, the Great A'tuin, drifting through space. Reality tends to be...thin. Things have a tendency to slip through.

This first game pulls its general plot from Guards! Guards! which surrounds a brotherhood summoning an actual dragon to the city of Ankh-Morpork. Dragons at this point in time only exist as much smaller swamp dragons which are far less dangerous aside from having a tendency to explode. The book is the first book in the city watch arc. The game, however, uses the character Rincewind as the main protagonist. Rincewind is a wizard, or wizzard, of the Unseen University in Ankh-Morpork. He's actually terrible at magic, but in his heart, he's a wizard. So, clearly the progression of this plot is going to go completely differently. Which I am okay with and it's nice the game could be played by someone who's never read the books. And it's drawing inspiration without stomping all over its source material and making you wonder why they didn't do their own thing, so I'm okay with it. I just need to tamp down on my own nit-pickiness for smaller details. Inspired by, inspired by. While still being recognizable. Excuse me I may have some aggravations with a certain other...'adaptation but oh no not really'. If you know you know, if you don't, don't worry about it. Ahem.

The game opens with a shot of the Discworld and the Great A'Tuin.

Introducing the Discworld.

Then we get the summoning ritual:

Dragon! Dragon!

Dragon!

Ominous peeking through the wall. Dragon!

And I'm already wondering who may or may not be involved from the book. Like, is the Supreme Grand Master still there heading this up? Are they the same person? It's an interesting thing both knowing and not knowing the plot at all.

From here we're gifted a scene of an Ankh-Morpork street with Death waiting and a drunk ambling down the street.

That's Ankh-Morpork all right.

I'm not sure about Death's voice, but I'm also very used to Christopher Lee from the animated adaptations of Soul Music and Wyrd Sisters (and Christopher Lee, come on, just an unfair fight really) or Ian Richardson from the Hogfather movie adaptation. They did add some effects so he's still got some IMPACT though. Still some sense of speaking in caps. And he's not a main character here anyway. I wonder how much he will pop up... How many deaths will there be? Will Rincewind have a near-Death experience?

The drunk ran into him briefly and got an ominous see you soon. Which... Yeah. The drunk proceeded into an alley and was saved from a mugging by being fried by dragon fire.

With that grisly affair complete we move on to see the Unseen University.

I was given another scene of the Bursar speaking with the Archchancellor talking about the rumours of the dragon. The Bursar notes that dragons don't exist unless you believe in them. Belief is extremely important on the Disc. Nevertheless there seems to be one and it's the university's civic duty to do something about it, so he sends the Bursar off to fetch Rincewind. Do you hate Rincewind, Archchancellor, is that it?

A note about the Archchancellor. He seems to be meant to be Ridcully from the books, and by the point of Guards! Guards! he certainly was the Archchancellor and have been for several books. He hasn't felt very much like Ridcully at this point though and if it wasn't for an 'unhygienic' comment I'd be uncertain if it was him or not. The game just has him labelled as Arch chancellor so I'm sticking with that instead. Except making it the one word it's meant to be. Split in two words is driving me a little nuts.

A note about this whole intro: there's been a fly buzzing around every scene from the drunkard coming on screen, then it bothered Death and continued on through the Archchancellor and Bursar's conversation. I have no idea what to make of that if it's going to be relevant or what. Complete mystery. In some ways it feels like it's just a fun guide to follow as you move through the intro, but also... why?

And finally we move in to Rincewind being woken up by the Bursar banging on his door letting him know the Archchancellor wants to see him, and I was finally given control.

I had a few different things to examine, like the totally not-ominous shape outside to which Rincewind said:

"Yes - a mysterious shape, a sinister shape - a shape fraught with... shapeness.

It must be a plot element - otherwise there'd be a better label!"

I can't remember the exact label. I think it was something like 'mysterious shape' or was that exactly.

The wardrobe had no knob to open it with. Turns out I could have opened it then but I didn't have a handle on the controls yet. Sometimes... it pays to look at manuals! Something I did not do until a little later.

And on top of the wardrobe was the sleeping Luggage. The Luggage is also from the books. It's made of sapient pearwood and rage and will follow its owner everywhere and anywhere on its many legs. At least when it's not sleeping here anyway. I couldn't rouse it yet.

With my examinations complete and my seeming inability to do anything yet I left to go explore the university.

And got traumatized by stairs.

I mean it's a point and click. No manual movement here. You can't die. But the Sierra stair trauma is real, especially after King's Quest IV... After my little moment of gratitude that this isn't King's Quest and the stairs cannot harm me, I started exploring.

I found my way to the dining hall and got my first conversation the UI of which was sure familiar. I had to laugh that I'm playing this after Sam & Max Hit the Road. It's the same system!

This also made me go find a manual to see what these options actually mean and learn other controls.

So from left to right we have

Big smile - greeting

Clown - sarcasm

Question mark - question

Cloud (has an animated lightning bolt I didn't catch) - anger

Waving hand - goodbye

And then other topics can appear too.

I also found out that left clicking is for moving, of course I knew that. Right clicking examines. I'd figure that out. But most importantly, double clicking is how you interact. I also found out if you click on Rincewind you can access his teeny tiny two item inventory which is more like one item because once you get money, it sticks so you only ever have room to carry one other item on his person. The rest is for the Luggage when it's acquired.

I chatted with the wizards which while entertaining didn't give me anything too terribly useful to know at this point which is fine: mostly just chatter about wizardry and the dragon rumours. I like talking to all the people anyway. And Windle Poons was there too! He's an important character in one of the books.

In my continued exploration I found a storage room and got my first inventory item--a broom. I always get excited for my first item.

I also found a statue and a groaner:

I checked out the library and got an aside? An instructional aside? A game equivalent of a footnote as a nod to the books' footnotes?

There were a couple of these informative bits, one explaining the Librarian who is an orangutan--he was turned into one in a magical accident and refused to be changed back--and another discussing L-Space.

So far I've only seen these in the library.

Here's a whole page about L-Space! https://wiki.lspace.org/L-space

So a fun thing here I wasn't expecting and they don't explain at all so purely for book readers. The character giving these little lessons is Twoflower made clear by the glasses and camera, ahem, iconograph. He was in the first two books and was the Disc's first tourist. Circumstances led him and Rincewind to be travelling together and many antics ensued. He was also the original owner of the Luggage.

See? I can do asides too. Back to the game.

I also chatted with the Librarian "Ook!". And was told I'd need a library card to take anything out after much back and forth. I did get a little irked that a lot of the dialogue options led Rincewind to calling him a monkey, which is something you Do Not Do with the Librarian if you don't want the wrath of an orangutan. You do not want the wrath of an orangutan. Rincewind kept getting head bopped. Hard. It's just Rincewind of the books would know better! And he and the Librarian end up getting along pretty well. Then I reminded myself of 'inspired by' and carried on. Things are just going to be different. Not looking at anything horrifically egregious so far; it's okay. Even Rincewind himself isn't exactly right here in other ways either. Just hush that part of my brain.

I finally made my way to the Archchancellor and found out what he wanted.

Unseen University needed to be 'properly represented' in attempts to dispose of the dragon. Can't have some yokel slaying it and have people wondering what wizards are for. Then he sent me to go fetch a copy of Featherwinkle's Concise Compendium of Dragon Lairs from the library.

I ended up going back to Rincewind's room first, and with my knowledge of double clicking was able to open the wardrobe with a little magic and get a pouch of money. With the broom I was able to prod the Luggage awake and get it to join me.

Then back to the library where I was able to just request the book. No card needed when it's a request from the Archchancellor I suppose. Or the Librarian was trying to be rid of me earlier.

I brought the book back and the Archchancellor found the formula for Recoglimento's Neverfailing Dragon's Lair Revealer. He was quick to halt Rincewind's protests as well with making sure his performance would be brought to the attention of the university board when they review his grant next year. Ah, university politics.

So the formula, which thankfully can be accessed when checking the book again, so it's always handy needs four ingredients:

A staff of tumultuous thermaturgy.

A miniature creature of excitable chitters

A container made of the strongest ferrous metal

Dragon's breath! Ulp!

I got a voice actor joke too when I kept trying to talk to the Archancellor:

Archchancellor: "No time for idle chatter." Rincewind: "Well, sorry. As if I can help who supplies my voice."

Rincewind is voiced by Eric Idle. Heehee.

I have goals now! Good old adventure game object collecting!

Next up I'll do another sweep of the university in case anything changed, then check out whatever can be checked out on the grounds and presumably head into the city proper.

[quibbs126]

I didn’t really feel like drawing fankids today (or at least not now), so instead I drew some Ruby Cacao Cookie, a character I’ve been wanting to draw more of but never got around to

And she’s also the only one of the “ocs related to Dark Cacao” that I actually made to be an oc, not just a hypothetical character that just took up space in my brain

So I’ve fleshed out a few more details with Ruby Cacao, and I just want to say them

Not much to really say about the drawings themselves. The first one is just supposed to be Ruby being concerned over her brother, coming back with scratches all over him. She’s supposed to be somewhat strict on him, but given the dangers of the land, it’s pretty justified. As shown in the other picture, she tends to be kind to him

The bottom two pictures are just supposed to be that Gordon Ramsay meme, which also describes her herself, even if it is a slight exaggeration. Like I said, towards Dark Cacao she’s very kind and understanding, trying to support him even if he has trouble doing things (he’s like 5 here), and she’s always the one he goes to when he’s scared or in trouble. However, to everyone else in the tribe, they know her as being quick to anger, very aggressive and willing to commit violence on other children. Granted, part of the reason for her aggression is the fact that everyone else in the village tends to be mean to her little brother (which has a reason, but I’ll explain later), or they’ve basically given up on life and she’s fed up with them all. But regardless she does have a short temper and is quick to anger, as well as just very distrusting of people. Were she to have lived to meet the other Ancients, it’d take some time for her to warm up to them and trust them with her brother. (I realize she kinda sounds like an overprotective parent not letting their kid date someone and having to be won over for their blessing. If polyancients, then yes this would probably happen). Though also later in life she would have mellowed out some, as she’s learned not to just assume the worst of people and that there are good Cookies out there

So I alluded to me having made the backstory to the fate of their village and why it’s so run down, so I might as well talk about it. Basically, just blame the Licorice Sea. So basically, the Cacao Tribe lived right off the coast of the Licorice Sea, which also used to be farther inland, as there was less of a force pushing back on it. Years prior to the time shown here, around when Dark Cacao was baked, there was a major attack from the Licorice Sea on the Cacao Tribe, to which the warriors fought against bravely. In the end, the Cacao warriors were able to push the creatures back, but in the resulting carnage a lot of their village was destroyed and many, both warriors and innocent civilians, crumbled. To the rest of the tribes, this is where the Cacao Tribe met their end, in glorious battle to defend their people. However, they did manage to hold out, but their plight was not over, as soon after, a plague broke out amongst the (I don’t actually know what it does, but I imagine when it was visible, it showed up as splotches of licorice on the dough with it eventually turning the eyes dull. Also it was fatal. Maybe it culminated in the affected melting into licorice? I dunno), caused by the attack and overexposure to the Licorice monsters. As such, the warriors were the ones first affected by the plague, and since it was a slow acting sickness and people didn’t know about it, it quickly spread throughout the tribe. They had to cut themselves off from the rest of the world at that point, hence one reason the other tribes thought they all perished, and try to work out on their own how to stop it. The plague devastated the surviving population, and while a cure (or at least something to help fight off the disease for those who could be saved) was eventually found, by this point so many had succumbed to the disease that the population of the tribe was no more than 20 Cookies. After all the horrible death and misery that those survivors went though in such a short amount of time, they were basically all left severely traumatized and for most of the adults, it left them with a constant state of sorrow and hopelessness, wondering when death was coming for them, or why they were the ones left to survive, some even saying they should have all died when the rest of their tribe did. Dark Cacao and Ruby Cacao lived through this, however they were very young at the time, with Dark Cacao not remembering any of it. As such, he just doesn’t feel or understand that same sense of loss, especially since he still has his sister, and because of that other kids (and to some extent the adults) take out their feelings on him. Ruby Cacao is a bit older, and only vaguely remembers the end of the plague (both of them got the disease, but got it late enough that they weren’t too affected before the cure), but the others don’t pick on her because they know she fights back, and fights hard (she’s got abnormal strength like her brother)

Edit: oh yeah, another thing I wanted to mention but forgot, after making up this backstory, it made me consider making a fic where another Licorice Plague happens, but this time it’s in the aftermath of Episodes 13-14, since they have a pretty big Licorice Sea attack themselves. I think it sounds interesting, since while Dark Cacao knows what it is once he sees the visible symptoms and he’s the only one to have lived through an outbreak like this and knows that there is a cure, he was too young to actually remember any of it, only being told about it and not knowing all the details. So if the Citadel wants to find a cure before it causes devastation to their troops, we might have to do some memory magic stuff to find the answers, which could also lead into other characters learning of the past he keeps secret (if it was like a thing where someone else has to venture in his memories, I’d pick Caramel Arrow for the one to do it), which could be neat. Also, there’s the whole conflict of the fact that to keep the plague from spreading, they’d have to quarantine the entire Citadel, meaning they’d have to completely shut their gates once more, even though they just opened them up again after so long, which could plant fear and doubt back in to the minds of the citizens, and Dark Cacao doesn’t want to do that, but the alternative puts the entire kingdom at risk. I feel like there’s plenty of interesting concepts you could have with this, I’m just not very skilled at writing multi-chapter fics, so I don’t really know how to approach this

But eventually the tribe met their ultimate fate a few years later, when the Licorice Sea attacked the tribe once again, and as there were no warriors and most of them just wanted to die, and as such they and what remained of their village was swallowed up by the sea, with only a few survivors, that being those that still wanted to live and could escape the attack, which weren’t many, but included Dark Cacao and Ruby Cacao

What happened after I’ve already said, them living alone in the mountains (with Dark Cacao becoming more independent as there’s only two of them, so he feels he can’t just hide behind her and has to step up and do his part), Ruby meeting her tragic fate and what happened with Dark Cacao afterwards

I also had some ideas for what Ruby Cacao would look/be like if she had lived, mainly just in that while she uses a large sword like her brother and nephew now, she later ends up preferring dual daggers, sort of like what Caramel Arrow has, only it doesn’t turn into a bow. Also that when she’s a teenager, she wears a cloak made out of a snow lion’s pelt, along with other things made from its fur (Dark Cacao has some too). I’m thinking she’s more of a hunter than her brother. Were she to live, she’d probably go with him and the other Ancients on their journey, and (presumably) get a Soul Jam herself, probably a red one. I’d imagine she and her brother would end up joint ruling the kingdom, or if she doesn’t take ruling role, she’s at least got an important role in the kingdom. I imagine she and Dark Choco would get along, with Ruby Cacao thinking he reminds her of Dark Cacao when he was that young (and then probably teasing Dark Cacao about it, to his embarrassment). Don’t know if she’d have a kid of her own, but if she did they’d probably be named Ruby Choco Cookie.

But yeah, I think that about covers what I wanted to say

To be honest, I want to draw more on this page, so I might edit this later with more sketches and then details about what’s on that. Though most of what’s going through my head for ideas is just them when the Licorice Sea destroyed their village (the final time) and Ruby Cacao hypothetically older. Though I’m also considering drawing them during the Licorice Plague, aka very small Ruby and Dark

[sequinsmile-x]

hand holding #33 please ‘bandaging the other’s hand and not quite letting go’ !!

This one got away from me!

And it was also meant to be pure fluff but some hurt/comfort snuck in here.

-x-

Love Like Wildness

Emily helps to prepare dinner on pasta night which, of course, means she hurts herself.

Warnings: Mentions of blood

Words: 2.1k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

He’s running late. 

Aaron used to pride himself on always being on time for everything. It was something Haley would always gently tease him for, a soft smile and a quick roll of her eyes as they got anywhere they were going at least twenty minutes early. 

Being a single father had truly put that to bed. Jack had not only inherited Haley’s smile, but also her terrible timekeeping skills, often leaving it until the very last second to tell Aaron about a school project, or that he needed ingredients for his cooking class. It was the latter that had made him later this evening, having to pop to the grocery store on the way to pasta night at Dave’s so Jack could make cookies at school the following day. 

He sighs as he knocks on Dave’s front door and patiently waits until it is pulled open, Derek smiling at him as he stands back to let him in. 

“Hotch, we wondered where you were,” he says, his eyebrows knitting together as he looks down at the plastic bag in his hands, “You bring your own ingredients to dinner now?” 

“No,” Aaron chuckles, “Jack forgot he has to make cookies at school, I had to get it on the way here.” 

Derek laughs and pats Aaron on the shoulder, “Rossi and Emily are in the kitchen, she was here first so he made her help and the rest of us are in the living room.” 

Aaron nods, “I’ll go put this in Dave’s fridge and grab a beer.” He walks the short distance to the kitchen and smiles at the sight he’s met with. 

Dave is making his famous sauce, the one he’d never share the recipe of no matter how many times he was asked, and Emily is standing at the counter, carefully chopping vegetables with a level of concentration he rarely saw on her face. Dave looks up as Aaron walks into the room and he smiles at his friend.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” he says, drawing Emily’s attention to Aaron too before he frowns slightly when he nods towards the bag in his hand, “What’s in the bag?”

“Eggs and butter. Jack forgot to mention he has cooking class tomorrow,” Aaron replies, and Dave laughs.

“Go ahead and put it in the fridge, and grab yourself a beer whilst you’re at it.” 

“Get me one whilst you’re there, Hotch,” Emily says, winking at him as their eyes meet. 

“Of course, Prentiss.” 

No one on the team knew about them. Something that began as a practical thing, keeping their relationship between them as they figured everything out, became something they both treasured. A precious thing untouched by the judgement or opinions of others. They loved the rest of the team and saw them as family, but any adjustment was hard on all of them, and Aaron knew that Emily worried about it as much, if not more,  as he did. Their relationship, their love for each other, was important to them. The very thing that helped them stitch themselves back together after everything they’d been through. Helping each other slip their broken pieces back into place. 

Loving her was the easiest thing he’d ever done. She was stubborn. Never gave up in a fight, and was, at times, impossible. But he loved her through all of it. Just like she loved him. 

It had only been 6 months, but he wanted it all. He wanted to live with her, to marry her. He dreamt of a little girl that was half her and half him, his future all mapped out in a way that had seemed impossible not too long ago.

For any of that to happen he knew they had to step out of the shadows, that their time loving each other in secret was nearly at its end. But tonight wasn’t the night to do that. 

He makes quick work of going to the fridge and putting the bag in there before grabbing two beers. He twists the tops off and places one next to Emily. Dave was distracted now, back to making his sauce, so Aaron takes the opportunity to look Emily up and down, enjoying her outfit of a well-fitting pair of jeans and a red sweater as if he hadn’t seen her less than two hours ago. 

“How did you get roped into helping cook dinner?” He asks, smiling as she glares at him, her eyebrow raised in what he knows is a promise for later, a familiar sparkle in her eyes that only ever meant good things for him. She opens her mouth to reply but is cut off by Dave.

“She isn’t helping cook,” he says, barely looking up from what he is doing, “she could burn water. She’s regulated to chopping only.”

“She is holding a knife and can hear you,” Emily says, narrowing her eyes at Dave before she looks back at Aaron, “How’s Jack, apart from being on his way to a star baker?”

He smiles at her, at the casual way she asked about his son as if she hadn’t been at their apartment a couple of hours, curled up with the young boy on the couch as she helped him with his French homework. She’d left before Aaron had, before Jack revealed he needed to go to the store, so they could arrive separately. So they could maintain their secret. Aaron hides his smile as he takes a sip of his beer, worried if Dave looked up, or paid them even the tiniest bit of attention, he’d see through them instantly. 

“He’s good,” Aaron replies, leaning against the counter, “He misses you.” 

Emily flashes her eyes up to him, a smile spreading across her face before she looks back down to her task of chopping vegetables, and he knows she’s going to play along. 

“I miss him too, I’ll have to - motherfucker.” She curses loudly and drops the knife to the counter, the clattering and the way she cries out drawing the attention of both men in the room. 

“Em, are you ok?” Aaron asks, placing his bottle of beer down on the counter, stopping himself from touching her. 

“Fuck, I cut my hand,” she says, squeezing her hand tightly, blood dripping down onto the countertop. She opens her fist and hisses, air sucked in between her teeth as she sees the damage where she’d slipped with the knife, a cut across the centre of her palm. 

Aaron gently reaches out, his hand cupping the back of hers as he inspects the cut, “It shouldn’t need stitches, but we should clean it.” 

“The first aid kit is in the downstairs bathroom,” Dave says, a slightly curious look on his face as he watches them, “You go help her Aaron and I’ll clean the blood off my marble countertop,” he raises his eyebrow at Emily, “I’d say that next time you’re demoted to peeling…but why do I have the feeling you’d manage to hurt yourself doing that too?” 

“Shut the fuck up, Dave,” Emily replies, her voice still full of attitude despite the fact she was actively bleeding. 

“Come on,” Aaron says, holding her hand up so it was elevated, a small attempt to slow the bleeding before he could bandage it up for her. He puts his hand on her elbow to guide her out of the room, and they both pretend they can’t feel how Dave watches as they leave. 

As soon as they are in the bathroom he closes the door behind them, grateful that they are alone so he doesn’t have to hold back in his affection for her. He guides her towards the toilet, putting the seat down as he does. 

“Sit down, sweetheart,” he says, turning to the medicine cabinet and getting the first kit out before kneeling on the floor in front of her, his knees cracking against the tiles, “Let me have a look.”

She groans as she opens her hand, pain lancing through her palm as the movement pulls at the skin.

“Dave is never going to let me live this down.” 

Aaron laughs as he opens the first aid kit and removes a bandage to press against the still bleeding cut, making her wince again, “Sorry, baby,” he says as he lifts her hand to kiss to her wrist, “If you want, if he brings it up too much I can partner him with Reid and tell him Dave doesn’t know the difference between Star Wars and Star Trek.”

Emily chuckles this time, running her good hand through his hair, smiling down at him, “Dating the boss really does have its advantages,” she winks at him, her hand moving to cup his cheek, her thumb skating back and forth over his skin, “Why does Jack have to make cookies?”

Aaron sighs, his eyes fixed on her hand as he pulls up the bandage, pleased to see the bleeding had, for now at least, stopped. He grabs an antiseptic wipe from the kit and pulls it out of the packet.

“This is going to sting,” he says, and she nods, not missing that he hadn’t answered the question. 

“We both know I’ve survived worse.” 

He doesn’t reply to that, he simply presses the wipe into her skin, apologising when she tenses, her teeth clenched to stop herself from crying out. 

“They are for Mother’s Day,” he says, looking up at her, smiling softly when her eyebrows knit together slightly in confusion, “The cookies. They’re for Mother’s Day.” 

Emily sighs, her eyes closing as her hand moves down to his shoulder, squeezing it softly. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” she replies, opening her eyes to look at him, “I thought you talked to the school about this kind of thing.”

“I did, twice,” he says, disposing of the wipe in the trash can next to the toilet, “But I guess I’ll have to again. It’s not that I don’t want him to join in. I just…”

“Want the heads up so you can prepare him,” she finishes for him, and he nods, pulling out another bandage from the first aid kit to wrap around her hand, “Do you want me to go down to the school for you? Give the teacher a piece of my mind.” 

Aaron laughs, a sound that never failed to warm her from the inside out, and he shakes his head. 

“I love you for that, but no. It’s ok,” he replies, finishing wrapping up her hand, and tucking the edge of the bandage in, “Besides, Jack and I came up with a plan for the cookies.” 

He stands up, groaning at the strain in his knees as he does so, and he leans down to pick up the first aid kit, placing it on the bathroom counter, he offers out a hand to Emily and tugs her upwards, his arms wrapping around her as he pulls her into a hug. 

“What plan?” She asks, her arms looping around his neck, her injured hand hanging over his back. 

“You’ll have to act surprised, but you might find yourself with a lot of snickerdoodles on Sunday.” 

It takes a moment for his words to register, and she swears her heart skips a beat. She pulls back from him a little to look at him properly, her eyes searching for his face to see if she’s misunderstood in any way. 

“He’s…making them for me?” 

Aaron smiles at her, his hands pressing into her lower back as he leans in to kiss her, his lips soft against hers. 

“Of course he is,” he says, kissing her once more before he pulls back, “You’re his favourite person,” he smiles, his dimples carved out in his cheeks in a way that always makes her stomach flip, “It’s one of the many things we have in common.” 

She shakes her head, overwhelmed by love for him and his son. For the life they were slowly building together. 

“I love you,” she says, her fingers trailing through his hair, unable to think of anything else to say. 

“I love you too,” he replies, smiling before he leans down to kiss her, “I wish we were at home.” 

“We will be soon,” she mutters against his lips, chasing him as he pulls back. 

Any thought about how she called his apartment home is interrupted by a knock on the door, Dave’s voice travelling through the wood as they break apart like they’ve been burned. 

“You two doing ok in there? We don’t need an ambulance or anything do we? This would be an unfortunate end to Prentiss’ career.” 

“Dave-” Emily warns, crossing her arms over her chest, wincing as she accidentally presses her injured too hard into her arms. Dave chuckles, and she can just picture him shaking his head. 

“I know, ‘shut up.’”

“We’re fine, Dave. We’ll be there in a moment,” Aaron says, shaking his head at his girlfriend. 

They hear Dave mutter something to himself before they hear his footsteps getting further away. Aaron reaches out for Emily’s good hand, squeezing it gently before he lets it drop.

“Later?” 

“Later.” 

-x-

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[schismusic]

THE DISCOGRAPHY PRINCIPLE, Episode 4: Coil, or: Better Git It in Your Soul

As I'm writing this piece, everyone who knows their shit is spasmodically waiting for the physical repress of Moon's Milk (In Four Phases) to hit store shelves, assuming they haven't bought it off the site. All the people who have been knowing their shit since before it was cool to do so already had the FLACs on their hard disk drives. Not to brag, but I'm part of that second group. I love gay people, I love Creative Commons licenses, I love what happens when you rub them together (in case you're wondering, you have a phenomenon called teenage lightning).

[As you're going to see throughout the piece, the remaster did come out, and it's glorious]

If you ask anyone they will probably tell you Horse Rotorvator is Coil's best, and it's not like they're wrong, but it may be a bit limiting. It goes about the same as Incunabula; refer back to the Autechre post for more clarification, but in short it's an incredibly good record that takes some extra work done in the present time because some of its sound palette choices end up making it sound a bit uncanny, if not dated. I'd rather not go with "dated" for this specific record simply because Scatology exists, and it doesn't get anymore '80s than that, not necessarily in a positive way. If we take out The Anal Staircase (by the way, great title, guys!) the rest of the tracks on Horse Rotorvator have some actually quite futureproof stuff going on, on average - sometimes bordering on prescient, like on Penetralia, just barely removed from 2010s brostep aggression, and sometimes I wish they had the hardware to process that stuff. But the big-ass reverb on the snare and percussion, the sheer nudity of the production, the way the orchestral bits and samples are integrated into the arrangements kind of make it sound like the record is striving really hard for a sound that simply could not be attained at the time of realization.

The great part is that literally nothing I said in this paragraph is a negative at all.

Compare Penetralia to, for instance, Restless Day from Scatology; or maybe even compare Ostia to Tenderness of Wolves. Both are great, sure, but while the Rotorvator just don't check out at times, the Scatology ones seem to have an expiration date written on them. Only one exception to this rule: At the Heart of It All. If I had to draw another comparison, this would probably link up to The First Five Minutes After Death, and this time it's the latter paling in comparison to the former. It sounds sickly and isolated in a special unique way, unable to fight back, devoid of any possible bite: it sounds like it saw the actual horse rotorvator, the Four Horsemen slitting the horses' throats and meshing the jawbones into a gigantic, earthshattering plough. Nothing exists beyond At the Heart of It All. Nothing survives.

Coil, after all, always flirted with a sense of profound despair, even at their funniest and most tongue-in-cheek. This is relevant: not many other bands of their era display, or even have, that same sense of humor about not just themselves but the whole world; consequently, not many have reached the same scope of intent, and the same successful realization of said intents, as Coil. Partially unrelated: one of my favourite stories about them is that one time in the early 2000s when the rest of the band couldn't find Jhonn Balance after a gig in Greece — I think at least, I'm going off the top of my head here — so on the following morning they were forced to board their plane to their next gig in mainland Europe without him. So as they're about to play the gig without him, seeing as he simply isn't there, magically he shows up, and nobody could even imagine how he'd managed to get there on time. At the time Jhonn was already having big trouble with alcohol, had already broken up with Peter Christopherson. Many of these things I came to know through some tried-and-true Coil obsessives, and there's apparently a lot of them around: people who exchanged correspondence, cassette tapes, memories with some of the collaborators in the band or even Balance and Christopherson themselves. There's basically an army of unauthorized Coil biographers out there. But staying more strictly on the point, it's impossible to separate Coil and the lives of those who made up Coil; therefore it is impossible to separate Coil and life itself.

Some of you may remember me mentioning the aborted Autechre/Coil collab back in episode one of this series. In that very same conversation, we had a really deep dive into how Coil's attraction to — mostly Western — esotericism, even the most downright evil and uncomfortable parts of it (how could we ever forget the iconic "the industrial use of semen will revolutionise the human race" shirt?), stemmed from a more general interest in the fullness of life; and the more I think about that, the more understandable Coil's visual fascination with nature is. Four EPs, one for each of the major sun-related astronomical events introducing the four seasons; the luscious woods on the covers of the two Musick to Play in the Dark records; the rocky cliffs and the goats being a perfect aesthetic fold to The Remote Viewer's abrasive/ascetic hurdy-gurdy drones. All of this accompanied to music that seems to strive for the most eldritch effect possible — in one way or another, Coil's sound design is like looking very, very, very deep into the bottom of an abyss of your choice simply for the fun of it, or rather for the curiosity, the doubt that something of incalculable value might lie down there. We as humans really enjoy getting to know stuff much more than we enjoy actually knowing stuff, the progress of process is much more enticing to us than the staticity of completion. Coil still sound, twenty years after Balance's death and almost fifteen years after after Christopherson's death, like they are disciples. They listen just as much as we do.

And this predisposition to listen is specifically what makes them particularly apt at speaking, too. Coil express depth because they feel deeply, ultimately, and they don't fear emotion — any emotion. Which means they are just at ease analysing the diffusion of gossip and its subsequent deformation and bloating as they are discussing alcoholism and the search for oblivion, and what's better: these topics are discussed in two sister tracks (namely Red Queen and Ether). Both tracks, alienated from the context of their respective records, sound like relatively soothing jazzy piano ballads with some lunatic saying the most out-of-pocket shit possible on top of them, and some pretty fucked up background noises going on, Red Queen being the easiest possible application of this concept. But the effect gets somehow creepier when Jhonn Balance actually introduces a recognizable melody into the mix. This is probably the best moment to talk about Jhonn Balance's voice.

If I'd talked to Dog about this piece, they probably would once again link me to Drew Schorno's piece about "vestigial shamans" (you can find it here). Balance's singing is not about technique, but at the same time it's not as simple as the boomer-like concept of mojo, either. Balance could barely carry a melody through most of the time, to a point where some Coil tracks sound like they'd benefit heavily from a guest vocalist; early on, I believe, Coil — perhaps Balance himself — must have been convinced that was the case too, and for proof just look at the plethora of external one-off collaborators brought in the fold (among many notable names, one stands tall: the legendary JG Thirlwell). Then you try to actually substitute Balance, or maybe even sing your own version of the track, and it doesn't work anymore*. It simply stops being compelling in a way that is very hard to quantify. Yet another name popping up from the Autechre piece, i.e. that of Tom Waits: it's that lived-life element mixed with the more strictly performance-related aspects of vocal interpretation that makes the difference, sure, but it's about how you cannot tell where one ends and the other begins. Tom Waits achieves this by virtue of his life-long effort to turn into his own character, i.e. by way of sheer commitment to the bit if you're so inclined; Jhonn Balance — ironic that, of these two, he should be the one using an actual pseudonym — does that by simply being a vestigial shaman, a person so profoundly wired for jumping in and out of some other world that he seemed, for better or for worse, to be unable to stop doing that.

*There is, of course, only one exception to this rule, and that is Rose McDowall, i.e. most likely a vestigial shaman herself, at least judging by her Facebook. I am lucky enough to be her virtual friend on there, and she seems like an incredibly endearing person — speaking frankly, I'd love to buy her a drink and have a conversation at one point…

The shamanicity (is that even a word?) of Coil is stunningly matched by the sound design and production: so materic it's tangible, so abstract it forces you to wonder what's on the other side of the door. You don't always want to know. In the summer of 2016 I was listening to Batwings in a dark room, for some reason, and there was a crucifix in this room; I shone a flashlight on it and the crucifix projected its shadow on the wall and at that point I very distinctly felt something powerfully trying to make its way through my ribs, into my chest. I immediately left the room. To this day this remains the sole thing in my entire life that made me firmly and unequivocally grasp possibilities beyond what we see normally. And as much as I love waxing poetic over Balance's lyrics and vocals, in this case I believe it was mostly the repetitive, simple keyboard figure — it's almost as if they'd managed to shrink down a church organ and you could now play it, volume obviously adjusted for size, within your breast pocket. But the whole array of clicks and pops, or the insanely advanced vocal processing, displayed throughout the Musick to Play in the Dark/Moon's Milk era really elevates the composition and arrangements to new heights, making them a true spectacle to listen to even on the most low-specs sound systems.

The beautiful thing is that Coil doesn't necessarily need the extra bells and whistles and, more importantly, that they know when and where to use them. This is on display throughout most of their discography, but nowhere is it clearer than on The Ape of Naples, a posthumous record that is entirely built to represent Balance's aural eulogy. One of the most overlooked tracks on the record, I'd argue, is Tattooed Man, basically a simple pop song revolving around laid-back percussion and a simple accordion melody — until, of course, Balance himself intervenes almost shouting a tale of dead lookalikes, of love and hate, of self-image and acceptance (or lack thereof) of finality. It's hard to explain why this track would be more touching to me than the more openly emotional Fire of the Mind (link) (which has one of the best opening verses in the history of recorded music, if you ask me) or Going Up (my main issue with this one is that it comes after Teenage Lightning and Amber Rain, both incredible tracks that scarred me for life — in a positive way, but I do realize its necessity in the economy of the full record of course. It just is). I guess it's touching to find that at the end of the line, even resolute spiritworld straddlers get a bit scared of their own powers. But after all, the main requisite for being a shaman is feeling more than the others — being, maybe, more human than the others.