#sure 8/10 is less but you don't throw it away

[ystrike1]

Dark Castle - By faun_me (8.5/10)

This one is a rich and heavy story. Slow burn. Alot of lore. The love interest is an 8 foot tall half human rat man. Memory loss. You've seen some of these tropes before, but they're done well. The art improves steadily as well, and the creature design is well above average. No generic dragons here

Our nameless heroine has no memories. She knows so little that her common sense is gone. She isn't afraid of demons. She has been dragged into the demon realm for unknown reasons. She's being stalked by a friend that looks human, and his demon master desires her. Luckily, she is captured by another influential demon.

At first he seems very nice. He doesn't welcome the stranger warmly, but he doesn't throw her to the wolves. She would die for sure out in the open. The ruler of this castle, Nemalla, doesn't know she's someone else's prey. He really becomes her protector by accident. He even investigates the cloud in her memories, out of pity. It's....a refreshingly normal reaction. Our confused heroine doesn't get special treatment right away, BUT the male leads personality gets established. He's not unreasonable, for a demon.

His kindness is not too good to be true. We see his life outside of his conversations with our protagonist. He's a feared and fearsome leader that doles out capital, cannibalistic punishment with his own hands. He is weighed down by loneliness, because he never expected to rise so high. He was trying to survive, but success left him alone with many enemies.

He is never overtly awful to her, even though his daily life demands a manly/harsh attitude.

The lore is a ton of fun.

Our heroine is ugly. Her features are hideous. She has no tail. No soft fur. Her white skin is gross and unseemly. She does not elegantly blend into the dark, the way a sultry demoness would.

We get hints.

Nemalla is attracted to her, even though her looks are repulsive to any demon.

It starts out very innocently. Nemalla likes her company. He's used to fear and hate, but having a friend is a precious new experience. It soothes his mind. When he shoos our protagonist away to focus on work he regrets it. He muses over how to invite her back over for...him.

He doesn't just want her to regain her memories.

He wants to hang out.

Our protagonist must regain her memories on her own. Nemalla can only help her so much. That's the rule binding her amnesia curse together.

She remembers her name when he takes her to his gorgeous personal garden, to impress her.

Simona.

He tells her to stop.

Names are power in the demon realm, but she gives it to him.

He does the unthinkable.

He shares his name with her too.

He explains the gravity of their exchange.

Knowing a name means you can influence that being, in this particular realm.

Nemalla knows many names, because he is powerful.

Simona has nothing, and she has foolishly given her name away.

He considers...showing her. Punishing her to give her a reason to think. To be less innocent, but he doesn't do it because of his perverse attraction and his loneliness.

Nemalla was imprisoned before. He was at the bottom, with less than nothing. There's an extremely creepy scene. It kind of comes out of nowhere, and it's a red flag. It is why I'm reviewing this series.

Nemalla sees himself covered in blood, back in his chains.

Simona appears, glowing with ethereal light.

He looks at her like she is his only savior, and the illusion snaps away.

Nemalla isn't dreaming.

He had that visceral vision as soon as she touched his hand.

Simona has a friend named Alter.

He kisses her while she's asleep.

He grabs her while he's wearing a mask, and he torments her. He tells her nothing. He lusts over her in the shadows, and his master wants her too. I don't care if he's hot he made a terrible first impression, and the way he treats Simona screams "annoying yandere". You know what I mean. The kind of persistent guy that exists to be slapped around by the real male love interest. He's not that intimidating.

Hopefully his master will be better.

Boom.

Lore drop.

Nemalla was born a prince. The son of a queen. That queen...became lovers with a demon outside of her marriage. The bastard prince was eventually thrown in the dungeon, with his mother.

She died there next to him.

It's implied that she loved her half demon son, and he loved her, and that makes their story even sadder.

It also explains why Nemalla is attracted to Simona neatly. (He likes demons too)

It's nice that it's clear he likes HER, not just her body.

The master who wants her has not revealed himself yet, but I have no doubt. I have total faith in Nemalla. He is absolutely going to tear the other men after her into shredded demon beef.

(Important note: Nemalla can probably change shape. His real body most likely is the rat demon body, but I do think he'll try to seduce Simona with a hot humanoid form at some point. He's already done for. He thinks about her whenever they're apart.)

[leclercsfilm]

but i'll know, i'll know

this is all fanfiction, all fake!!! no hate towards charlotte or alexandra (if that's her name idk). this is purely for fun and please don't be rude to me or insult me. thank you. <333 also, i checked grammar so i think it's fine? word count: 873 (i can't write more ig)

summary: because of your friendship with charles, his significant other wants you out of his life. (angst)

charles leclerc x female!reader

another bad race for ferrari. charles crushed into a wall and carlos got a penalty. you watch the race on your phone, hopping to see charles while he is exiting the car. it hurts not being there for him in times like this but you know he is in a good hands.

maybe you are blaming on your little 'something different' that you feel towards him, but you feel your eyes filling with tears. ever since his new relationship, you had mixed feelings on both of them. he started calling less, and every time you see each other, his girlfriend made sure that the meeting lasts only couple of minutes.

you are still in touch with arthur, your other friend you made while watching your brother go karting with charles. you were all pretty close until you weren't. that's how it is supposed to be.

charles new girlfriend saw you as a threat, and you understand her. insecure with you along side him (even if you only see each other on races or on a reunions), or media attention and their stupid tabloids.

since age 10, this is all you knew. it hurts you that you can't be part of this.

you had a slight crush on charles when you first met, but that feeling got lost somewhere until he broke up with the previous girlfriend.

he was a mess, and you were his comfort. not only you, but there was pierre, lando, arthur, carlos, isa, kika.... everybody was there for him.

he accidentally kissed you, and he apologized 330430 times for that. but that woke up something in you. since then you were always confused around him, trying  not to blush or to be awkward enough for him to notice.

he did. he did notice. and when his girl said that he should stay away from you, he realized that it was probably for the best. he was also confused, but he had her by his side. he needs to be with her and devote his mind and soul to his girlfriend, not to wonder and question the situation with you. this was an easy way out.

you got up and started to look for something to eat. it was a mess of a day and you need to refresh yourself with something. distracting yourself.

while making food, you realize that the sun is not out anymore and that it is 8 p.m. you got your laptop and started to look up for netflix. just when you were trying to find where you left on 'friends' your phone started ringing.

without looking at it, you just picked it up.

'hallo?'

'y/n?'- a famous voice just started breathing into the phone

'charles? is everything alright?' - mutter while praying to God above that everything is fine

'yeah.... i just wanted to hear you for a bit...' - he sounded tired

'sure.. um, what now?' - confused as always, you said the first thing that came to your mind

'did you watched the race? it was pretty shit to be honest. im still shaking a little bit.'

'yes i watched it. sure it was a rough day for you'- you said while looking at the netflix which is infornt of you. you can't even calm yourself down.

'where is....she? is she with you? is there arthur or someone who can be with you?'

'no.... no really. im in bathroom. i had to escape somehow. arthur is waiting for me to get out. she was not even here. we had a fight last week.' - he sounded defeated. with his sigh, the silence got her way.

'im sorry to hear it charles. have you been drinking?' - you were worried about him, you think it never stopped.

'a little bit, yes. but im fine.'

'why are you calling me charles?' - you added

'i don't know why everytime im tipsy or drunk, i think of you. im sorry i couldn't defend you. i still think of our childhood, im sorry for throwing it away... i got scared, i got confused.. it was easier to run....'

charles cried, choking on his tears. your eyes watered as well, and you had to take a deep breath to hold back from crying out loud.

'you know... sometimes...no,no... almost always i have memories overwhelming me. it hurts so bad because you where always in every segment of my childhood, part of it. you were asking too much of me. i can't forget you...' - you cried out, while you wipe your tears.

'im sorry y/n. im so sorry. i don't know what i feel towards you. it not just friendship. i think we could be more. but we can't... and you know it. maybe this is just a process of healing... of forgetting.' - he tired to be collected. he really did. he needed to find a reason.

'well... it was nice to hear you charles. take care of yourself. don't be harsh to yourself..' - with that, you ended the call.

closing your laptop, you finally let emotions to control you. you finally let out frustrations and your tears. your memories with him no one can change or make disappear. you'll always know and remember him, but you'll never know what you two could be.

well, this was painful for me to read, im so sorry. i wish i was better. :( please, remember that english is not my first language and that i've created this account to fix my mistakes and my grammar. please do not insult me and make fun of me. love you <3

[nebulousmedic]

I saw some tier lists on Twitter and they were inflicting a lot of psychic damage upon me. Anyway merc dad tier list

So here's mine! I think Spy gets WAY too much shit.... He seems to care for Jeremy AT LEAST to some degree. I don't think it's a coincidence that they ended up landing the same job, honestly. I could actually see Spy being decent-ish if his identity didn't, y'know, force him to leave his family for safety reasons. You betcha he pays child support tho.

Sorry Py and Solly lovers, I think they'd be a right mess. You can let them play with your kids under a VERY watchful eye. But that's it.

if Medic had a kid I think they'd turn out kinda traumatized.... Or, at least they'd be eerily desensitized to blood and viscera. He's one of those parents that doesn't know how to play- well, not with toys anyways. Worst dad jokes. Very embarrassing, probably scares off any other kids with his presence and eerie smile.

Sniper strikes me as those "hands off" kinda parents?? exposing kids to controlled danger, teaching them to hunt and such. He's probably seen as a "cool dad" by the other kids due to his tough and rugged appearance. Both him and Medic would struggle opening up emotionally to their kids, and they wouldn't know what to do when the kid is struggling as well.

Yeah Scout was the youngest out of 8, BUT that means that at least one of them had to have kids, there's a very high chance that he got to do all the kid caring stuff many times, being and uncle. I feel like he's pretty good with emotions and whatnot. He's definitely the kinda dad to be super involved in his kids' friend circle and play with them as much as he can (wether it be boys or girls, he doesn't care). If his kid didn't like sports he'd be sad but try to find common ground with them in other things.

I don't have a lot to say about Engie and Demo. Demoman obviously has alcoholism problems but I think he'd -try- to tone it down for the kids' sake. Like he wouldn't be able to quit for sure, but he's drunk less frequently. He definitely wouldn't want the kid to see him like that. I feel like he's a very sweet dad, very silly and encouraging. Definitely cries when he pauses and realizes how fast they grow up.

As for Engie, I feel like he needs a bit of anger management, he doesn't snap at his kids or anything but he does get very frustrated (it is visible) and has to walk away and leave for a while. Very good parenting other than that and submerging himself in work. Maybe a bit strict at times.

Heavy is.... Pretty much perfect in my eyes. He's patient, sweet, smart, stable. Knows how to deal with kids even if they're throwing tantrums. Very mature, but he also knows how to let go and be a child himself. He might be a little overprotective at first, but after he realizes that, he'll pause and think about it and how to deal with it. He constantly keeps himself in check, asking if he's doing a good job. 10/10 please give me piggyback.

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 8

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 |-| Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11

AO3

Summary: After an encounter at Coombe House leaves Frankie and Rosie's relationship fragile, they seek to repair it when she is given leave for Christmas

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 6.5k (BUCKLE UP FOLKS)

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58

The sun disappeared as soon as it had come, and as the weeks rolled steadily into December the men at Thorpe Abbotts learned the truth of the great English winter. At sunrise, the grass lay encrusted with frost, but by midday the ice was washed away by downpours, leaving the fields a muddy marshland. Every day was dreary, cold, and damp, and Rosie was beginning to feel mocked by it, the outside world mirroring the misery he felt within.

Frankie was avoiding him. She wouldn't admit to it, but she hadn't spoken to him alone in weeks. Sure, she would sit with the Riveters in the pub or come to see them before a mission, but since their trip to Coombe House, he couldn't get her alone. Whenever he thought the chance had arisen, some pressing matter would suddenly arise that she had to attend to, and she was gone as soon as she'd arrived.

He missed her. He missed her so badly that it hurt - he missed her face being the first he saw after every mission, missed being able to tell her everything, missed making her laugh. Rosie didn't care that she hadn't kissed him anymore. He just wanted her back.

"Tell me what happened again," George demanded, perched on the edge of her bed, watching Frankie as she brushed the stubborn knots out of her hair.

Frankie sighed. "I have told you a million times already."

"I know. I'm just still trying to fathom how you could be such a fucking idiot!" She cried, grabbing one of her pillows and throwing it across the room, colliding with Frankie with a soft thump.

"Oi!" Frankie exclaimed, lobbing it right back, a shriek escaping George as it smacked her in the face.

"He's so obviously in love with you - has been for months - I just don't get it. Coombe House was the perfect opportunity. Bit of a snog and a shag, yunno."

"Jesus Christ," She muttered, shaking her head. "You're the one who warned me against getting too attached. I'm just... starting to think you were right."

George's smile dropped, and she swore she felt her stomach lurch. "Oh, Frankie, no-"

"What? Am I seriously supposed to just go for it knowing what will happen if he doesn't come back?"

Frankie hadn't uttered a word of this to her, but it was clear it had been plaguing her for some time. "I'm not supposed to be a cautionary tale, I'm supposed to be your friend. Which means I want you to be happy - find it where you can, don't just avoid it because of what happened to me."

Her entire face furrowed with her frown. "I'm just... I'm in too deep already. And I'm scared, George."

"Oh, c'mere," George sighed, rising to stand as she gestured for Frankie to come closer. Enveloping her in an embrace, her nostrils inhaled the always-lingering scent of engine oil. "I don't regret Curt. I miss him like hell and sometimes it feels really really shit. But I wouldn't trade the time I had with him to make it hurt less - if anything it's more special to me now. Don't hold back because you're scared it'll hurt later, because if anything does go wrong you'll regret it more than anything."

Frankie frowned, chin burrowed into the crook of George's neck. "You think so?"

"I know it."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The pub was packed as always, the sea of faces ever-changing with the constant stream of replacements. It didn't matter that it was just as busy as it had always been, the place felt half-empty with so many familiar faces missing. Rosie's Riveters were always guaranteed a table, their reputation as the 100th's finest flyers preceding them - boys would actually give up their chairs when Rosie came in, and he could never dissuade them, no matter how much he cringed at the attention.

Half-empty pint glasses littered the table, conversation and laughter flowing freely among the team, but Rosie couldn't help but let his gaze wander. She was usually here - usually posted at the same spot at the bar with George, hogging the space in front of the beer taps so they could always get the bartender's attention whenever they needed another round. But when he looked up now, their spot was taken by a pair of replacements who scarcely looked old enough to fly.

"Rosie agrees, dontcha?" Bailey's voice came, and it was as if he'd been forcefully dragged back to reality.

"Hm?"

"Brooklyn's better than Queens, ain't it?"

"Oh. Definitely," He nodded, attempting to be as subtle as he could as he continued to scan the room.

Suddenly, the piano in the corner started up, thumping out a raucous tune. He'd only seen it used once or twice the entire time he'd been at Thorpe Abbotts, but the nearing advent of Christmas seemed to be putting the Brits in much higher spirits. A crowd of RAF and WAAF staff had formed around the piano player, drinks in hand as they began to perform a sequence of rowdy old drinking songs, more yelling than they were singing.

The words were foreign to American ears, but the English seemed to know them all by heart, belting out sordid tales of prostitutes and the like in a jolly, musical fashion. The pilots seemed roused by the scene, and Bailey began to clap along to the beat in encouragement, grinning as he watched the crowd. There was a sense of joy in the air, enough even to make Rosie crack a smile, elbow resting on the back of his chair as he listened.

And then he saw her.

Frankie was leant against the lid of the piano, pint in hand, belting out the words with the rest of them, grinning as she sang. She was wearing her proper WAAF uniform, her hair curled tight beneath her chin, lips painted a deep red. He never saw her in dress uniform, and for a moment he was taken aback by how well it suited her. Before Rosie had formed any sort of plan for what he was doing, he had risen to his feet, and was crossing the room towards her, weaving his way through the crowd.

A hand seized his arm. George was certainly strong when she wanted to be, and she wanted to be now, dragging him sideways away from the group, gnawing at her bottom lip, her teeth coming away with lipstick stains.

"It's my fault," She stated firmly, speaking loudly to be heard over the music.

Rosie's brow furrowed in confusion. "George, what're you talking about?"

"It's my fault Frankie won't talk to you - I only just figured it out, I'm sorry."

His shoulders squared, a frown forming. "What do you mean it's your fault, what did you do?"

"I... I told her that I haven't been speaking to the pilots since Curtis Biddick died - you don't know him, but he was... kinda my boyfriend."

"Oh, George, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, it sucks. But I think she took it to heart, and now she's scared to get too close to you in case something happens."

"... She told you that?"

"Not explicitly, but I'm not an idiot. And I know her very well."

Rosie nodded hurriedly as he considered this, passing his weight from one foot to the other as he debated approaching Frankie. Sucking in a deep breath, he nodded determinedly. "George," He held her by the shoulders, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. "Thank you."

"Don't ever do that again."

"I am sorry," He nodded, hands held up in surrender as he backed away, turning on his heel to make a beeline towards Frankie. George watched him go, brow raised at the sudden spring in his step.

"Weird bloke," She muttered.

They were halfway through a frankly awful rendition of Three Jolly Rogues when Frankie heard someone calling her name. Her gaze travelled across the crowd, words trailing off as she noticed Rosie at the edge of the group, unable to penetrate the mass of people as he craned to catch her eye. Eyes widening for a moment, she instantly felt her heart begin to beat faster as she chugged the remainder of her beer, abandoning her empty glass atop the piano as she tried to shove her way through to him.

"Frankie!" "Rosie!"

They spoke simultaneously, words to rambled and quick to make out, especially over the din of the pub. "Let's - let's go outside, yeah?" Frankie called over the music, and he nodded in agreement. His hand on her back came as a reflex, an instinct as they moved towards the door. She didn't step away.

Stepping out into the night air was like running head-first into a wall of ice, the sudden cold almost making Frankie gasp, her breath erupting in a visible cloud in front of her face. The sheer number of bodies inside the pub kept it permanently warm, so much so that it was easy to forget they were in the thick of December. Sucking in a breath, she rubbed at her arms to generate some warmth, her uniform jacket offering little in the way of insulation.

Rosie opened his mouth to speak, but she got there first. "I'm sorry. I've been treating you like shit and you don't deserve it, I was just being a fucking coward and-"

"Hey - no, no, no, you're ok. George told me what was going on and I get it. I get it, ok?"

Her expression was contorted in something like fear. "You do?"

"Of course," A smile flickered across his face. Of course he did. "I have no idea how hard it must be for you to wait for us all to come back, knowing what can happen up there. But... I don't wanna sound selfish Frankie but I can't stand the thought of dying without us being friends. You make coming back worth it and I- ... I miss you."

Frankie was silent for a long moment, and Rosie braced himself for whatever she was going to say.

"Come to my house for Christmas," She said. His mind had been racing trying to predict her response. He had not expected that.

"... What?"

"I got a forty-eight-hour pass for Christmas, I'm going over to my Dad's house. You can't spend it with your family, and we've got plenty of room... Well. You'd probably have to sleep on the floor but-"

She trailed off as she realised he was laughing, her brow furrowing as Rosie chuckled, nodding continuously. "Yeah," He beamed.

"Yeah?" The corner of her lips curled upwards in that wonky smile he so adored.

"Yeah, I'll come," Rosie grinned, taking a step forward and enveloping her in a hug, arms wrapped tight around her shoulders and she instinctively reached around to hug him back, her head resting against his chest.

"That would've been really awkward if you'd said no," Frankie said, her voice muffled against his jacket. Rosie laughed again, and she felt the vibrations through his chest.

"I was never gonna say no."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They took a train on Christmas Eve, each carriage so packed with servicemen and women on leave and families visiting each other for the holiday that they were forced to stand, shuffling awkwardly out of the way whenever someone had to squeeze past. The pair had nothing to do except for a single pack of cards, although it soon became evident that the lack of space forced them to stand so close that they could always see each other's hand, and every game rapidly became pointless.

"So George isn't coming? Or Ken?" Rosie asked, fiddling with his watch as they plodded steadily onwards through the countryside, plumes of smoke from the coal engine partly obscuring the view of the trees and fields outside.

"George's family lives down in Dover - though you'd never guess it from her accent," Frankie chuckled. "She's got a pass too, so she's gone down this morning. Ken got invited for dinner by the parents of those lads he's always looking after - he'll be over there tomorrow."

He nodded along as she spoke. It had been almost an hour since anyone had tried to shuffle past them, so they'd taken to sitting on the floor, legs outstretched as far as they could go across the dirty old carpet. "Say, how'd you and George meet anyway? I never asked."

"We were both working at RAF Docking from about the middle of '41. There were a lot more WAAF there than at Abbotts, so we didn't bunk together, but we just sort of stuck, I s'pose. She only came here because of me - I got asked to come 'cause of your manpower shortage, but she reapplied so she could come too. Good thing too, I'd have been fucked without her. I think we got a bit co-dependent," She smiled to herself as she spoke, and he couldn't help but mirror it.

There was not a single sign or announcement to indicate where they were on their journey along the way. Frankie had told him it was a part of the government's anti-invasion measures, so that any would-be invaders would be unable to find their way, but really it just made him paranoid that they had missed their stop. Nevertheless, the moment they pulled into their station, she was up on her feet, a sudden air of excitement about her as she scrambled to gather their belongings. Rosie followed her out onto the platform, trying not to cough at the puffs of coal smoke that filled the station.

"Not far now," She assured him, a suitcase full of clothes in one hand, a satchel of presents in the other. It was a surprisingly sunny afternoon, although the biting cold would have suggested otherwise, and he trailed after her as they descended the high street, Rosie's head turning this way and that to take in his unfamiliar surroundings.

Frankie breezed through the place with practised familiarity, letting out a huff as she realised she'd almost lost him to the Shakespeare memorial as they passed. He had become entirely distracted by it, peering closely at the engravings that lined the base of the statue.

"Oi! Don't go all tourist on me, flyboy - I won't be late for dinner," She teased, and Rosie held up his hands in surrender, scurrying to catch up.

He could tell they were close when her shoulders drooped, excitement replaced by a comfortable calm. They reached a row of short, terraced houses, set back slightly from the main road, the thin strip of shared lawn still wet from the morning's blanket of frost. Frankie had begun grinning as she approached the house on the far end of the row, a spring of holly tied to the knocker with a messy knot of string. She shot him a smile, knocking firmly upon the wood, before spying an elderly woman a few doors down, struggling under the weight of her shopping bags as she fumbled with her door keys.

"Let me help with that, Mrs Higgins!" Frankie called, leaving Rosie alone on the doorstep as she hurried to help the old woman, gently prying the bags from her grip.

"My, Frances, haven't you grown!" Mrs Higgins declared, beaming up at her, made tiny by her stooped shoulders.

"Not since I was twelve, dear," She assured her, helping her in through the door as she carried the shopping behind her. Rosie smiled, watching on with his hands in his pockets, and he wondered how he could feel nostalgic in a place he'd never seen before.

Suddenly the door to Frankie's house swung open, and he found himself faced with a red-faced man, peering down at him with a frown. "Can I help you?"

"Dad, that's just Rosie! Let 'im in!" Frankie cried from down the street, hurriedly exiting Mrs Higgins' house as she scurried to catch up.

Mr Bevan was a huge man in every sense of the word - so tall and wide that he practically filled the entire doorway, and it almost seemed a miracle that he and his daughter were even related. But the moment he heard Frankie's voice, his face lit up with such love Rosie wasn't sure he'd ever seen anything like it, unleashing a hearty, belly laugh as she ran into his arms, practically throwing herself at the man.

"Rosie? Who's Rosie?" Another voice rang from inside - a girl's voice, high-pitched and certainly familiar. "I thought you were bringing the pilot!"

"Rosie is the pilot!" Frankie called down the hall, chuckling as she broke free of her father's embrace. She ushered Rosie inside, piling her bags at the bottom of the narrow staircase. As he entered, a girl was peering suspiciously at him from the kitchen doorway. She couldn't have been older than thirteen, a crop of golden hair flowing from her scalp, and at her hip cowered another child, a little girl of about three of four, hair so blonde it was almost white.

"But Rosie's a girl's name!" The older girl protested.

He chuckled. "Well, in fairness, my real name's Robert."

"Alice, be nice," Frankie scolded gently, lifting up the smaller child with one arm as Alice's cheeks bloomed a bright red. He realised she must have been Jill, recalling her name from the phone call all those weeks ago at Coombe House.

The Bevans' house was inescapably narrow, the five of them struggling to pass each other as bags were brought in and Frankie's father bustled through to the kitchen to put the kettle on. But as she sidled into the living room, she let out a gasp, a grin creasing her cheeks.

It was a sparsely furnished place, but in all honesty there probably wasn't room for anything else. A thin pine tree was propped up in the corner, strings of tinsel and chipped old baubles hanging from its branches, and newspaper chains hung from the curtain rails.

"Oh, isn't this just wonderful," Frankie remarked as Jill wrapped her chubby arms around her neck in a sideways hug. She turned her head, nodding at Rosie, prompting him to say something.

"Oh! Yeah. Very nice, it's just like back home," He nodded in agreement, slightly tense under the eyes of strangers, even if they were both little girls.

"Rosie, d'you want a cuppa?" Mr Bevan's voice boomed from the next room. For a moment he panicked, staring at Frankie with wide eyes like a deer caught in headlights.

"Tea. Do you want tea?" She whispered, putting Jill down on the sofa.

"Oh, uh - Yes! Thank you, Mr Bevan!"

"Oh, bloody hell, it's Allen, son," He shook his head, carrying in a teapot on a tray to place on the small table in the middle of the room.

"Even the boys at the garage call you Allen, eh Dad?" Frankie pointed out, pouring a cup of tea and straining the leaves before passing it to Rosie.

"Reason I hired 'em," He agreed, lowering himself into one of the armchairs with a heavy grunt. Rosie accepted the tea with a smile, and had just brought the cup to his lips when Allen leant down and unstrapped his foot, pulling it off and propping it against the wall. He almost choked. Alice let out a snort that sounded remarkably like Frankie's.

"Christ, sorry lad," He laughed, red face turning even redder. "Probably should've warned you about that."

Rosie forced out an awkward chuckle, nodding along. Jill was sat beside him on the sofa, staring up at him with wide eyes, mouth hanging slightly agape. He smiled down at her, noticing Frankie as she smirked at the whole scene.

Their dinner was a meagre feast of beans on toast, and Rosie suspected they were saving everything else for Christmas Day, saving it up to put on a true banquet. He and Frankie had been relegated to the living room to sleep, and she took the sofa whilst he lay on a pile of cushions and blankets on the floor. It wasn't a house built to serve any more than three - after all, it had only ever intended to house Frankie and her parents.

He was staring up at the picture frames that lined the wall as she came in - messy childhood drawings on aged paper, a laboured scrawl captioning each one with things like 'Me and Daddy' and 'My House'. Frankie had been putting the girls to bed, and padded across the carpet with a sigh, the sofa springs creaking as she collapsed backwards onto them.

"Did you draw those?" He asked, pointing up at the wall.

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. "God, they're so awful, I keep telling him to take them down."

"No! They're great! I think it's really nice."

Frankie stared down at him for a moment. He'd changed into his pyjamas already, lying straight across the living room floor, blanket tucked under his arms. She began to giggle, cheeks flushed from the cool draft that filled the room.

"What?" He asked.

"It's only nine. You look like you've had mummy come and tuck you in for bed," She teased, unable to look at him without collapsing into giggles again.

"I'm tired!" He protested, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Yeah, yeah. So am I, to be fair. And - fair warning - Jill will be in here at five in the morning tomorrow to open her presents. She's so excited, I don't think she'll sleep a wink."

Frankie lay back along the sofa, feet propped up against the armrest as she draped a blanket over herself before reaching out to turn off the lamp. "They're sweet kids," Rosie spoke into the darkness.

"Alice is cagey around new people - just tell her a good flying story tomorrow and she'll love you. I think Jill loves you already. She doesn't talk much, but she'll want you to play with her toys, so you'd better do it," She instructed him, and he let out a chuckle.

"Alright. I promise."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Rosie was awoken by the thunderous sound of little footsteps barrelling down the stairs, a shriek escaping Jill as she streaked into the room, making a beeline for the sofa as she hurled herself on top of Frankie. She let out an agonised groan at the sudden weight, retaliating as she tickled under Jill's arms, eliciting a series of squeals from the girl.

He groaned, grabbing one of the cushions and pressing it tight over his head to dull the sudden noise. He heard Frankie laugh, and felt her warm breath against his ear as she bent down to whisper "Told you so."

It was a half hour before the rest of the family made an appearance, time which Frankie spent desperately trying to prevent Jill from tearing open her presents, insisting she had to wait for her sister.

"Just one? Please? Please!" She whined, feet dangling off the edge of one of the kitchen chairs. Rosie wandered in and the girl went suddenly quiet, nervously pursing her lips.

"Hey Jill, why don't you show Rosie your cars, yeah?" Frankie said, pausing mid-sentence to let out a yawn as she put the kettle on the boil. The child's brow furrowed, considering this, and when she looked up at him she spoke with the seriousness of a businessman conducting an important negotiation.

"Rosie, will you play cars with me?"

"Absolutely I will," He nodded, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. Jill grinned, pushing herself down from the chair as she scurried back into the living room. Rosie shot Frankie a glance, brow arched in confusion. "How does she have so much energy?"

"She's a kid," She shrugged. "I think they're all like that."

The cars were rusted and chipped, paint peeling off to expose the tarnished metal beneath, and Rosie couldn't help but suspect they must have been Frankie's years ago. He could picture her as a girl, playing with tiny tin cars on the floor of a garage somewhere whilst her father worked away fixing the real thing. The idea made him smile.

Jill made little whooshing engine sounds as she wheeled the cars around on the rug, occasionally ramming one into the table leg as she mimicked a crash - there was a groove in the wood from years of games such as this. Rosie found he did not know how to play with a child as small and as quiet as Jill, but he lined the toy racing cars up in a nice, neat row for her, quickly discovering the girl much preferred to destroy that work than admire it.

"This one's yours," She declared, holding out a chubby hand to present him with a tiny metal biplane, half of its propeller long since broken off.

"Why thank you," He grinned, accepting it gladly. They had been playing for a long time before Rosie realised he too had begun to mimic the sound of engines, lips pressed together as he tried to replicate the hum of his B-17.

Allan and Alice appeared after a while, and once the girls had opened their Christmas presents it was all hands on deck to prepare for their midday feast. The children were placed in charge of the bread stuffing, a charge they appeared to take incredibly seriously, and Rosie was presented with a pile of carrots and potatoes to peel. He sat at the table, dutifully toiling away, the kitchen gradually growing hotter and hotter as the chicken they'd bought from one of the neighbours slowly roasted in the oven.

The creak of a chair beside him caught his attention, and Rosie looked up as Frankie sat down, sliding a glass of sherry towards him. "Frankie, it's ten in the morning," He pointed out.

"If you're not at least halfway drunk by lunchtime, you're not doing Christmas right," Frankie shrugged. He noticed her father had already finished a glass. Taking a sip of her drink, she reached across the table, seizing one of the unpeeled potatoes from his pile, using a knife to whittle away at the skin. "You're very slow at this," She pointed out.

"Sorry, I'm not a practised potato peeler, dear."

She chuckled. "Guess we'll just have to train you up... Merry Christmas, Rosie."

He tore his gaze from his work, nicking the skin of his finger slightly with the blade, although he couldn't make himself mind. "Merry Christmas."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A myriad of wonderful smells had filled the kitchen by the time they sat down to eat, his chair perched on a corner of the small table between Frankie and Jill. The girls had created little paper crowns for the occasion, crafted out of scraps of wallpaper and decorated with old buttons. Rosie's sat far too small atop his head, but he fought to keep it balanced on his scalp, replacing it every time it fell off. It was a simple banquet, but after the work they had put into creating it, he could've sworn it was the best food he'd ever eaten.

"This much like your Christmases in the States, Rosie?" Allen asked.

Rosie nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yeah. Good food and good company, that's what it's for, ain't it?"

"I'd offer to let you call your family, but we don't have a phone," Frankie admitted, reaching across him to take Jill's plate so that she could cut up her chicken for her.

"It's no trouble, really. This is all wonderful," He nodded again, and Alice snorted as his paper crown slipped off of his head, tumbling to the floor.

Frankie shot the girl a look, brow arched in warning. He suddenly remembered what she had told him the night before. "Say, I haven't told you any of my flying stories yet, have I?" It was as if Alice were a dog, the way her ears pricked, intrigue suddenly lacing her expression.

"No. You haven't."

"Please do!" Jill added, and her older sister nodded in agreement.

Rosie began to recount some of his most interesting missions - the narrow misses, the daring manoeuvres - every detail embellished for dramatic effect to such an extent that he was at times bordering on fabrication, and he could tell from Frankie's smirk that she knew not everything he was saying was strictly true. She was smiling at her father across the table, the two of them enjoying the utterly transfixed expressions plastered across the children's faces, so enthralled that they almost forgot to eat.

Any scepticism Alice had shown before was long gone, staring wide-eyed across the table at him, her cheeks blooming red as if she'd come face to face with her lifelong hero. Either that or she was developing a crush. Frankie was beginning to suspect the latter. When dinner was finished, the girl approached her as she was filling the sink with water to wash up, leaning over to whisper in her ear.

"Frankie - Is Rosie your boyfriend?"

"What? ...No, honey, I don't think so."

Alice's brow furrowed, a look of absolute horror painting her face. "What do you mean you 'don't think so'?"

Frankie chuckled. "You'll get it when you're older."

She rolled her eyes, golden curls bouncing as she gathered the dirty dishes, stacking them in an orderly pile beside the sink. Bing Crosby came over the radio on the windowsill in front of her, the faint drawl of the King's Christmas speech coming from the main radio in the living room. Her dad had taken off his false leg again, revelling in every moment he didn't have to wear the thing, and Frankie was elbow-deep in soapy water by the time Rosie reappeared.

"Where'd you go?" She asked, looking up as he came in through the back door, paper crown still balanced atop his head.

"Getting rid of leftovers - the neighbour took the chicken scraps for her dogs."

"Ah," She nodded, suppressing a smile as he sidled next to her, seizing the dishcloth and beginning to dry the plates and cups she had finished scrubbing.

"... Yunno. Alice thinks you're my boyfriend."

Rosie nodded, laughing softly. "I think Jill thinks we're married."

"Oh she loooves you," Frankie teased, knocking against him with her hip. "She'll be wanting you to put her to bed later."

She wasn't wrong. The adults sat around the living room that night, the children long since sent to bed. Empty glasses covered the coffee table as they held their hands of cards close to their chests, finally able to have a proper game - albeit a slightly addled one. The room itself smelled of sherry, and their cheeks were all flushed pink, laughing as they played, the radio still turned on in the corner, although nothing came from it but static.

They were having such a good time that they didn't hear the little patter of footsteps trailing down the staircase - didn't look up until she was stood in the doorway, a ragged old teddy clutched in her hands. Jill's voice came out meek and exhausted. "I can't sleep."

"Well, I'm not surprised, my lamb," Frankie's dad spoke warmly. "You ate a whole month's sweet ration today."

She rubbed tiredly at her eyes, and Frankie pushed herself up off the sofa. "Alright, let's go, eh?"

"I want Rosie to do it," Jill insisted, sleepy brown eyes looking back at him. "Please?"

Frankie glanced over at him, shrugging as if to say 'I don't see why not'. "Sure thing," Rosie nodded, grunting slightly as he hopped up from his seat. Jill grinned, clutching at the cuff of his sleeve with a tiny hand as they headed up the stairs together.

Returning to her seat, Frankie grinned, watching them go until they were out of sight. It was quiet for a long moment, and she reached over to turn off the radio. Her father cleared his throat slightly. "You never mentioned - how long have you been with yer fella then?"

She had been halfway through a last sip of sherry, and choked suddenly on it, almost spitting it back out. "Who, Rosie? No, dad, we're just-"

"Oh, bloody hell, petal," He shook his head, and she wondered how he could make a term of endearment sound so frustrated. "I'm not blind as well as legless."

"You've still got one leg Dad-"

"Don't gimme that. That lad's in love with you, else he wouldn't have crossed the bloody country on Christmas Eve to come eat old carrots with you. And you! Christ alive, you look at him like you used to look at Danny-boy from down the street when you were goin' out with him. Except worse."

Frankie let out a long, agonised groan, slumping so far back against the sofa cushions it was as if she were hoping to melt into the furniture. "Dad!" She exclaimed. "... He's American."

He snorted. "Bloody hell, didn't think I raised you to be a snob."

"No! Not like that! I just... he lives in America. I can't leave you, Dad."

"Oh, piss off, yes you can. You think I'll grow this feckin' leg back overnight through the grace of your presence, love? If I let you waste your life sittin' around here, then I've failed as a Dad. I've failed your mum, n'all."

"Don't say that," She shook her head, tears forming and clouding her vision.

"No. I mean it. If that lad is gonna make you happy you go with him, dammit. Gettin' to raise you has been the best thing that ever happened to me, but you're your own woman now, Frank. And I've got a couple more little-un's to deal with. Can't have you hanging around, there's not bloody room anymore."

Frankie laughed, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. Her dad made to stand, groaning as he put weight on his false leg, and she jumped to her feet to help him, but he raised a hand to her, and she had no choice but to back away.

"I love you, petal," He beamed down at her, pressing a firm kiss to her forehead. "And now I'm going to bed. Too much bloody sherry." She squeezed his hand, stepping out of the way so he could hobble past, grunting slightly as he hauled himself up the stairs.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time Rosie returned, Frankie was lying on the floor atop the pile of cushions and blankets he had used as a bed the night before, staring at the pictures on the wall.

"You're in my bed," He pointed out.

"I got the sofa last night - your turn."

"No - no. It's your house, you take the couch."

"Look, Rosie, we are going back tomorrow and I'll not return you to the boys with a bad back. Make me look like a bad host n'all."

He let out a sigh. "Fine," It was dark in the living room, and she couldn't wholly tell what he was doing until she felt the blanket lift up, and he burrowed beneath it beside her.

"... What are you doing."

"Compromise," Rosie shrugged, their shoulders pressed together. "... Who's Danny?"

"Oh my God!" Frankie exclaimed, covering her face with her hands, voice strained in embarrassment. "How much of that did you hear?!"

"Just a little. I was waiting for Jill to brush her teeth. So?"

She sighed, arms dropping to her sides in defeat. "He was my boyfriend for a bit when I was seventeen. It wasn't a big deal, but Dad loved him so he brings it up all the time."

He chuckled, nodding. "You were right, by the way. I do like your dad."

"Told you."

Neither of them said anything for a long time, the room plunged into silence save for the sound of them breathing. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could make out his features, her head lolling to the side as she stared at him.

"Actually, I lied," He confessed. Her brow furrowed in confusion, watching as Rosie rolled onto his side to face her. "I heard everything."

Frankie did the same, the pair facing each other properly. "You sneaky shit," She teased, and he let out a huff of laughter.

She heard him take a deep breath before he spoke again. "Was he right?"

"About what?"

In the dim light, she could see his brow furrow. "You know what."

Rosie's hand moved to cup Frankie's cheek, but before he could make a move she had closed the gap, and he felt the warmth of her lips press against his, sucking in a sharp breath through his nose. The blankets rustled as she pressed herself against him, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck as he lifted his head up off the pillow, moving to hover over her, their lips never parting.

After a moment, she pulled away, and they both took a second to catch their breath. "Jill's probably gonna get up again in a minute. She's a nightmare to put to bed, I swear."

"Understood," Rosie nodded firmly like a man on a mission, peppering kisses from her cheek down to the crook of her neck as she squirmed, trying not to laugh as she planted a palm flat on his forehead, prying him away.

He sighed, and a bubble of laughter escaped her throat. "I'm serious! We will scar that child for life."

"Alright," Rosie huffed, lying back down beside her. He raised his hand to her face once more, her skin sticky with sweat as he pushed her hair out of the way, getting a proper look at her as best he could in the dark.

"Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?"

Frankie hummed. "No. Don't think so."

"You are beautiful," He mused, winding a strand of her hair around his finger. "Even in the dark - even when you smell terrible and I say I don't care. Which I don't, by the way."

She snorted with laughter, briefly pressing her lips to his once more. "Well, I also don't mind when you smell like shit."

"Aw, that's sweet."

A small voice came from the doorway, and for a second both of their hearts stopped, hurling themselves away from each other as they tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. "I still can't sleep," Jill protested, frown audible in her voice. Rosie felt the urge to laugh at the accuracy of Frankie's prediction, and she clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound.

"That's ok sweetie, I'm coming," She called. The blankets rustled as she moved to stand, pressing her forehead against his just long enough to whisper.

"I told you so."

[pardi-real]

Weapon Review part 1(?)

Warning: will describe what weapons do

Let's review how well the weapons fare against angels and what they're gonna do with it. By your local akuneko brainrot patient (me). The bonus points aren't really counted.

The types of weapon listed here are unofficial and merely what I think they are.

I'm pretty sure the weapons aren't scaled in actual size in the pictures because Lucas's scythe definitely looks bigger in-game and Lato's daggers aren't that big.

Daggers/Combat knives

I was searching for materials regarding why daggers over swords for research purposes, but then I remembered Lato uses daggers too. Daggers are so cool.

It's lighter than swords and should increase his agility

And it has holes, holes on blades to reduce weight (usually) so further increase in agility

It's perfect for stabbing and easy to carry

Maybe he can throw it because he has multiple. Requires mad skills tho

The hilt makes it look like a trench knife (maybe it is, idk)

It mainly stabs. Too short for fatally slashing (different story if he wanna torture or something) What he gonna do, stabs angels eyes? Actually do angels have the same vitals as humans? Then he can just stab their hearts

Generally lower damage and shorter range than swords

I wish the blades were serrated to make it cooler (+ easier to tear off limbs)

7/10 +3 from being cool

Double-bladed polearm

Looks graceful to me. Polearms aren't for throwing because they're longer and heavier than spears.

With blades like that I think Berrien can use it for stabbing, except with more force because of the momentum

Looks like it can slash too but I don't think it's effective. It may be a quick attack but it needs space to do a rotation. Maybe it'll do well when surrounded by angels and that's when double blades come into action, he only needs half of the rotation, maybe less if there are many angels but not enough damage Imo

It definitely has long range

The long shaft can drive away things, defend, and maybe for bludgeoning too just like what a metal pipe would do *insert falling pipe mp3 here*

Hard to use in a cramped space

Double blades like that is actually quite heavy, and he should be rotating/thrusting that around

Actually would get Berrien in big trouble if an angel closing in

8/10 it's good. I like how he stores it under his bed

Double Ax/Labrys

Practically, the point of Double Ax is so that the blades can have different degrees of sharpness. Lumberjacks can use one side for felling and the other for limbing. But Fennesz isn't a lumberjack so you know whose limbs,

Definitely dishes out big damage

Labrys is a symbol of power, it should looks intimidating, it sure does but I don't think angels can feel intimidated (if they feel anything at all)

There is a lot Fennesz can do with it, it's primarily for chopping/hacking but it can also do thrusting, hooking, slashing, and so on. For maximum damage he can do an overhead strike... No wait I just realized this Labrys has longer shaft than usual

Increased reach I guess

It's heavy, no matter how strong Fennesz is, it might drain his stamina

Create openings especially when gaining momentum

He'll get in big trouble too if an angel closing in

7/10 DPS enough ig, +3 for being pretty and loosely looking like a butterfly

BFS

Look at that extra-broad broadsword. I wonder which one is heavier between this and the double ax

Big damage but with speed, Bastien is known for his insane speed

What else does it do other than damage…? It looks very cool I guess, like a shounen protag or Guts or Cloud

Just like usual sword it's good for stabbing, thrusting, slashing, piercing, etc but because it's wide it can be used for shield too maybe

Heavy

Despite the speed he still leaves openings and results in plot-points. What a deadly weapon

5/10 too deadly +2 for shounen

Thorned/barbed whip

What was Ammon thinking when choosing this? It's less of a killing weapon and more like a torture device. Looks very aesthetic tho since it resembles a rose

Can make the opponent bleed profusely. Can angels actually die from blood loss? (Do they even have blood…?)

Long range, and can keep angels from getting closer

It's noisy so it can intimidate & scare things away. Again, if they can even be scared at all

Fictionally it can be used to tangle, trip, or holding enemies in place ala Indiana Jones with his bullwhip (requires mad skills)

It barely does any fatal damage

Difficult to control/aim

With it barbed, it's more likely to cause accidental self-injury. Or injures companions. Unless he's really really skilled… Well, I sure hope he doesn't train often. *Insert uncanny mr incredible png*

Then again it would be difficult to not harm any companions in a cramped place

It can't do any slashing, thrusting, hooking, or literally other type of attack, it mostly whips

Also would get in trouble if an angel closing in

4/10 it's cool but impractical, +3 for being pretty

You know what, I know way too little about angels or maybe I just don't remember

Maybe to be continued in part 2

I started writing this for no reason so yeah why not post it.

[phantasmagoriaq]

Writing Pattern Tag Game

Thank youuu @telegraphavekiss for the tag, this was fun!!!

Rules: list the first lines(s) of your last 10 fics and see if there's a pattern.

1: -You’re all here for Anthony?

2: A sharp ring woke him up suddenly. He could see the light of the phone screen on his nightstand, hands moving messily in the dark as he couldn’t manage to find his glasses.

3: "It’s been a long time. I don’t really know what to start with, I’d like to ask you so much, I need to know so much. Instead, I just ask you, beg you to not throw this away, just stay with me until the end of this, please?"

4: He should’ve really seen it coming. Should’ve expected when no answer came through, or when the line up came out and the name was missing, and still he jumped out of the van, running around the already parked ones, hopeful.

5: -Hi Anthony, it’s uhm… it’s Tim, again.

6: The road moved slowly under his eyes, the low rumble of the engine settling a soft constant rhythm in his head. Steve and Geoff were asleep, Tucker drove silently as Andrew, sat next to him, held up the map that had miraculously avoided getting them lost for the past six years.

7: He stumbled a little on his feet when he got up, head spinning just enough for him to know he had to take it easy. He usually never drank, or at least never drank a lot, so he wasn’t really used to the warmth that kept spreading through his chest, nor to the way his whole body just felt light and very heavy at the same time

8: Warped Tour felt as some kind of fever dream, it was the parallel world the characters get shot into and that takes the shapes of everything they’ve been warned against.

9: They should’ve talked about it. He cursed himself throughout the whole next day, when both them and Circa finished their July shows, when he gave Anthony a hug goodbye and felt him sight against his chest.

10: Maybe it wasn’t the best idea, but he wasn’t sure what else he could do.

Is there a pattern? I'm not 100% sure, I mean all these are chapters off from the same fic so I wouldn't be so surprised if some elements were similar, they all seem a little boring though so I got to work on making the first phrase catchier. I guess I like, where I can, to start off with dialogues, I try to never make the scene too obvious and usually don't say right away who's the main character/who has the pov in the chapter. I find it funnier to hint it for a little before actually writing down the name, but I guess it shows less here since, again, it's all from the same fic.

I literally know 3, 4 to exaggerate, people on tumblr and two have already been tagged so uhm, I guess I can go with @hibiscusteabag and @tony-ruunaser-alighieri , have fun!!! Plus anyone else that would like to do it and wasn't tagged, go ahead!

[khaire-traveler]

hi! feel free to ignore this ask, but im new to hellenism and worship in general. because of some sleep problems, i have set up a little altar for hypnos some time ago, and while my sleep has improved, i also need considerably less of it? (from 10+ hours to 4-6). is it a "normal" after effect of asking hypnos to bless my sleep?

also, hope you are doing well!

also also, if you have any tips on working and worshipping other deities residing in hades, that would be much appreciated!

sorry for the wall of text lmao

Hey there, Nonny, thanks for the ask!

My advice with things that relate to your health is always "mundane over magical" (I know that's typically a witchcraft thing, but hear me out) where it's honestly better to talk to a professional about such things than to think it a result of a deity. Maybe it could be Hypnos, maybe not, but I'm not fully comfortable confirming that for you, especially since I am, by no means, a medical professional of any kind. If you're noticing other symptoms, such as those common with mania (feeling you need less sleep, being abnormally upbeat and energetic, increased impulsivity, etc.), I would suggest seeking professional help (I am just saying this just in case; I don't know anything about you or what life is like for you). It makes sense, to an extent, that you would be needing a bit less sleep if the quality of your sleep has improved, but that said, it would usually decrease to 8 or 9 hours rather than going from 10+ hours down to 4-6. I don't think this sleep thing is related to Hypnos; I didn't personally have that experience when he helped me with my sleep.

With that aside, worshipping other Underworld deities would work the same way it has been with Hypnos, I imagine. I personally follow the practice of throwing away or burying perishable offerings, as burying it is a form of "returning it to the earth" for me. I don't consume any food or drink offerings I give to Chthonic deities either, as doing so doesn't feel right to me (it's like mixing something dead with something living, if that makes sense; it's about respect for me). I don't have much advice other than those things, and that's simply based on my own practice, so you obviously don't have to start doing them. I'd say to listen to your intuition and always research a deity a bit to get to know who they are (and even as a form of bonding). In the Deities section of my pinned post, I have more general advice for deity worship, but I think this is all the Underworld-specific advice I have to give; my worship doesn't change much for Ouranic or Chthonic deities, honestly. I think I'd be better at giving advice if you were asking about the worship of a specific deity (or deities).

I'm sure this wasn't the most helpful response in the world, but I hope you found something useful in what I said. Take care, and have a good day/night! 🧡

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Trimax Thoughts Vol. 8 Pt. 1

More stream of consciousness. Here goes! I want to catch up so badly so I can suffer through... whatever happens in Volume 10 with you guys. I'm scared. :)

[All images are from Trigun Maximum Volume 8.]

Love that Knives can't do anything without being absurdly extra about it. It's not enough to go and invade human towns, he's got to have his giant-ass spaceship hover over everybody. He needs to loom. He needs to loom so badly.

Ah, once again, Knives denying Vash autonomy over his body. Also talking about "using" Legato too, which just goes to show how Legato is basically just a tool for him (though I don't think Legato particularly minds).

"I have seen them throw our spent corpses away like garbage." <- "our", yet another instance of Knives not really drawing a distinguishing line between himself and Vash/his sisters. Treating them all as one.

[ID: A close up of Vash's face, grimacing and sweating, saying "Believe me, Knives, I have seen the dead Plants. All of them had the black hair. They weren't the bodies of Plants who had lived their natural lifespan. They were the bodies of Plants who had been abused and pushed past their limits. End ID.]

This panel, with his own black hair emphasized, plus the way Vash is finally able to verbalize some blame on Knives and includes himself in the Plants that humans are forced to rely on, is interesting and encouraging development. Vash too, has been pushed past his limits, time and time again. But this reframes it less as self-punishment or "deserve" and more like responsibility he feels obligated to take on, because literally no one else can. The saddest part of this is that nothing will change for the better at this rate, because all of Vash's energy is (quite literally) being sapped just playing damage control against his own brother's actions. I often wondered why we didn't see Vash interacting with the other Plants a little more or focusing his help on them - and while I think there's interactions we're probably not seeing behind the scenes, Knives' actions kind of force Vash to prioritize the humans in all this, because he cares about both humanity and his sisters... which really sucks for the sisters, who are still being drained and hurt. It's frustrating, overwhelming, and feels like you're stretched far too thin when you're caught in the middle like this. And it's not that he's necessarily okay with this - he isn't. I think this kind of proves he knows and understands how cruelly he's treated. But unfortunately, this kind of thing can happen to people who care too much... Vash's dehumanization (for lack of a better word) in all this is misery inducing. (Also as a bonus, check out the panel where Knives is talking about the sisters being oppressed and murdered - his hand is doing that thing again where he covers her face, even though it's a gentle gesture!).

"There will be screams and shouts and then there will be silence." <- I'm sorry this is horrific but all I can think about is the llamas with hats skit - "That is what forgiveness sounds like. Screaming and then silence." Hhjskdhbvjdfhbv

Wolfwood is trying not to kill them (!!!!!!!!!)

Ughhh Livio's guns are literally strapped to his arms. His function is to be a living weapon, indeed. Combined with the guns also looking like crosses it's just... ugh.

See, here I will concede that Knives makes a good point. Vash says "that's the way it is" and Knives says "who says this is the way it has to be?" 100%, out of context, I'm with Knives. "Things take time", sure, but immediate action should always be taken to minimize the damage in the here and now. People are still hurt in the time it takes for large-scale change to occur; you can't just wait for things to change. Unfortunately, adding the context back in, minimizing hurt has never actually been Knives' goal. He's still thinking on a near-absolute level here. And worse, every added year they waste fighting each other, they could've been working to find better solutions for their sisters - the situation probably would've improved a lot faster if they had been a united front. But Knives refuses to listen, because "helping" was never his primary goal to start with. It reminds me a lot of people who want to punch bad guys instead of support their victims. People who want to be right, instead of do right. Do you see what I mean?

"Keeping yourself from feeling the pain and never finding the true source of it." <- because Knives would rather invent an enemy than confront his own fear... it's not an easy thing to do, but you have to try if you ever want to heal... the only actions we can ever truly control are our own...

Fuck Chapel man.

So, Knives' plan is not just to rescue the sisters but also to absorb them??? All of them??? Does... does he know if he can handle that? Are the sisters like. Chill with this or...? The imagery of it all is so incredibly beautiful though... I would screenshot several pages of this but it would take up too much space.

[ID: Two panels, one with the absorbed bodies of Plants in an indistinct mass, and the next showing Knives standing at the top of a large grate, filled with the merged bodies of Plants. End ID.]

Bro...? I am confusion. How. How does this help them. It's like he's storing them so they can't be used... I mean I suppose that's better but. ???

Badass Elendira moment!!!

Oh man I love the way this builds. It all feels so futile. No one seems happy or satisfied. Starting with the random people and the outsider view. The concern and then the dawning horror as they realize what's happening. The ethereal pages of Knives absorbing the Plants, only to show they're essentially being placed in a cage. He's not smiling and his face is grim. The focus on the death of a random character. Vash and Legato are locked in a stalemate. Back to outsider view as Zazie witnesses the devastation. Focus on Wolfwood, bitter and guilty. Back to the outsider pov and the panels that grow more and more hectic and cruel in their depictions. The break with the quiet panels of the desert. ...seven months later. It's so incredibly cinematic and visceral. I must say, I was not expecting such a large time skip.

AHHH GIRLS!!!

Luida my beloved. Her and Meryl are so similar in their desire to help, their insider knowledge on Vash, and their struggle between kindness and pragmatism, and it's really cool to see.

I wonder... can Plants only communicate through dreams or memories? ...Knives falling asleep again randomly too... he is eepy from all the world domination and the exhaustion of isolating himself for 150 years. :(

I'm so sorry but I really do think it's funny that Knives' plan is just "I'm going to store my siblings (yes, all of them, even my twin) in some containers and put a grate over it. Surely this will solve everything."

The Plants are brain-blasting him???

Badass Elendira moment number 2!!!

WOLFWOOD'S BACK YEAHHHHH

Vash is controlling the angel arm?!

No sorry, this whole sequence is insane! Wolfwood acting on his own free will! The two of them tag-teaming Legato just by reading each other after 7 months without contact! Wolfwood braving death! Vash braving the use of the angel arm! They trust each other enough to face what they have been so afraid of! Holy shit!

[ID: Blood covers the floor, the rest of the background is pale white. Wolfwood is slumped over the Punisher, as Vash shields him. Vash has sprouted numerous wings and feathers in a dramatic spread as he says "No, you are not lost, Wolfwood!" End ID.]

AHHHHH?????? AUGH. He heard his prayer? Literally heard it? Are you fucking for real right now? And look at the way he's not just shielding him - you can see in this and the next few pages that he's also supporting him... gently lowers him to the ground... Wolfwood reaching up as if to touch him... Vash not even knowing who Chapel and Livio are but being angry enough to threaten them with the angel arm, of all things. AUGH.

I love the severity of this situation, the build, the declaration from Vash that he is now fighting for Wolfwood, Knives rapidly losing control of the situation, you know, all that good stuff... and then there's just. This.

[ID: The first panel is of the interior of the ship, covered with multiple instances of the sound effect ガ for clanging, interspersed with "ooph!" "ow!" "oof". The next panel is of tiny Vash and Wolfwood falling through open sky, having fallen out of the ship. End ID.]

...pinball machine. Lol.

Knives was unable to follow through on killing Vash. I mean. We all knew but still. Then he helplessly reaches out with his other hand... the one without the power he absorbed... :(

[ID: A photo of young, smiling Vash and Knives on a black background. Underneath, it just says "...it's over..." End ID.]

Ow. Ow. Ow.

Omg finally Wolfwood backstory.

Fuck Chapel!

OMG they're both in blankies... sorry but tiny blanket Wolfwood is my new favourite thing ever. Look at him.

Ahhhh Meryl went to Marlon! Augh and now Vash knows she's still in his corner - because last time he mistakenly thought she was afraid of him when she pulled away... but it wasn't true at all! :')

Man I so hate that it was more of the Plants who were killed in the attack... I know Brad hated it too since he apologized but I just... ugh they're so caught in the middle of this whole conflict, and we don't even know if they wanted any of this.

Ah, and Wolfwood's leaving... :/

[ID: A blank white panel with the words "Needle-noggin...". Next panel, Vash looks over, paying attention. Next panel, Wolfwood stares ahead distantly. The final panel is half of Luida's face, a flashback where she is telling Wolfwood "Yet he keeps moving... through his own never ending hell." There are several ellipses from Wolfwood. End ID.]

^Ok, I saw this earlier and Wolfwood leaving kind of confirmed what I thought might've been the case here. He already knows the Ark is headed toward the orphanage; that was what he was trying to persuade Livio to help him with; to protect their home together. I really do think Wolfwood was on the verge of asking Vash to help him here, before he apparently changes his mind and switches to asking Vash to stop Knives instead (which is... what he's already been doing. It's rather unnecessary for him to ask Vash to do this imo). The gap is this memory of what Luida told him. Whether it's that Wolfwood feels they should both be moving forward through their own personal troubles alone, or whether he feels Vash already is dealing with too much to burden him with anything else (my money's on the latter personally, given we see him with a similar sentiment in Volume 7), I do think whatever he was going to ask initially was not what he ended up saying aloud. Maybe I'm delusional. Idk.

!!! Wolfwood spinoff! :D

WAIT is this a prequel or something? This girl assumed he was a priest and Wolfwood just starts sweating nervously "um... yeah... that's me" hdjfhbvsdjfhbv

AW he knew her as a baby... ah, he's always ended up kind of responsible for others, huh?

Ok but this is kind of funny. "Can't believe she didn't remember me..." My dude this girl was like two years old.

Why does Orekano have a cross on his outfit???

Oh fuck this dude he's creepy.

The bird carving... :')

[mebiselfandi]

Tagged by the amazing @licharlo thanks for the tag💕

rules: share the first lines of your ten most recent fanfics and tag ten people. if you have written less than ten, don't be shy and share anyways.

1. Neymessi - In My Heart I Know

Neymar checked his reflection in the mirror one more time before rushing outside to where Leo was waiting for him leaned against his car.

“Okay, let’s go,” he murmured as Leo got back in the drivers seat and set off into the night.

Neymar wasn’t all too sure where exactly Leo was taking him but he didn’t press to figure it out.

2. Neymessi - Or Maybe

Neymar woke up, yawning slightly as he took in his surroundings. He blinked the nights sleep away and waited for his eyes to adjust to the small slivers of morning light that filtered in through the curtains.

3. Neymessi - Strawberries and Cream

The bowl of strawberries by Neymar’s bed side wafted a sweet scent through his nose. He picked one up, plump and red - biting off the tip and humming at the tang of the small fruit. Swallowing the rest of it, he twirled the stem in his fingers; green and leafy. It was soft on the pads of his skin and he smiled at the velvet feel of the leafs surface. He thought of the hairs that gathered sparsely at the base of Leo’s neck. How they felt not too dissimilar to the smooth fur covering the small stem.

4. Lichantony - Minha Pétala Vermelha

It was a nice day out. The sun was warm, not too blazing hot as it had been the last few days. And there was nowhere either Antony nor Licha needed to be. So when Licha had proposed the idea of having a picnic in a quiet field they’d stumbled upon when they’d gotten dismally lost, how could Antony say no?

5. Neymessi - Nap

Unlike Leo, Neymar rarely ever took naps. Usually the younger man was always full of energy from morning to night while Leo used any free time to sneak away and sleep for a short while. However after partying all night before, Neymar was feeling particularly sleepy for once. The afternoon sun that filtered in through the window onto his bed was warm against his skin. He glowed golden and he smiled softly when Leo entered the room looking equally sleepy and satiated.

6. Kunessi - Collapse

"Come on. Come on! Come on! YES!"

Kun laughed loudly as he finally managed to beat Leo at fifa. He cheered loudly and ran around the room laughing as Leo began to sulk in his chair, throwing the controller aside.

"I told you I'd beat you Leo! Who's the best now?” Kun asked sarcastically. He struck a ridiculous pose, flexing his arms and giggling hysterically as Leo rolled his eyes.

"Ugh," he groaned as he crossed his arms moodily over his chest

7. Kunessi - Trembling Hands

Kun had watched Leo all his life. First on the TV then right next to him. He couldn't remember a time when he didn't watch Leo. Anxiously, impatiently, waiting for his reaction to something funny he'd said. Happy when the other man's eyes crinkled in the corner and he laughed loudly and uncharacteristically without a care in the world. He watched him so intently he could trace Leo's mood before Leo could. Kun took pride in knowing Leo so well and Leo knew it. And it was moments like this when Kun was grateful for his secret superpower, as he'd told Leo one afternoon while they played FIFA.

8. Neymessi - Finally Alone

It was one of those days. When the schedule was so tight Leo and Neymar barely saw each other. The few glimpses they had were when they were tired and worn out, half gone from the vigorous training they were doing. The sun baked their skin and even if they wanted to they wouldn't have been able to talk to each other without somebody interrupting.

9. Neymessi - As Sweet As You

Neymar scanned the counter once more to make sure he had everything he needed. Flour, eggs, milk, cocoa powder, etc. Yes everything exactly. Putting on his apron, he began to measure out all the ingredients needed as quietly as possible, so as not to wake Leo up.

10. Vini Jr & Gavi - Just My Luck

The venue was packed to the brim with guests. Footballers and friends. Musicians and plus ones. The multitude of crowds all chattered and mingled with each other over the loud music being played. Anyone and everyone was invited to Raphinha’s birthday party. He’d decided to make a big event of it this year. Something about you only turn 27 once. Gavi couldn’t remember. Him and Pedri made their way over to the birthday boy, wishing him a happy day and so forth before he directed them to the present pile where they could drop off their gifts. Pedri handed his to Gavi before disappearing off into the crowds to talk to someone. Gavi pushed his way over to the present pile and just his luck he should bump into the one person he didn’t want to see.

“Vinicius.”

“Pablo.”

I was gonna include a bonus for the second chap for the first fic but it’s just not that good and it will be changed v soon

Tagging @dykemar @liverpool-enjoyer @white-light-on-my-prism @bettercostume @swaggypsyduck @kuhcra @karotland I know some of y’all are just starting or are keeping them under lock and key so no pressure at all to participate 💕

[arizonaconservativegal]

It's almost as if no political movement has goals anymore, rendering them completely pointless. The left and the right are closer than you think. In fact, they are deliberately working together to create a culture war to keep us distracted. That is why neither of them will ever be successful and why it's best if people stop playing this pointless game.

I hear this a lot from people who mostly just want to justify their own apathy. I gotta push back.

Have both parties failed to do anything meaningful while one or the other of them have full control of a state or federal government? You betcha. Have they also completely failed to work across the aisle when control is divided? Damn straight. But the reason isn't that they're colluding to make things worse or keep us distracted, as you say. The reason is real simple: they just don't want to do the work.

Not because then they'd lose a critical campaign talking point and not because they have lobbyists/donors in their ear telling them not to and not because they actually think it's cool that we have all these problems. They don't want to do it because it's a lot harder to actually fix shit than you think it is.

It's a little bit like cleaning out a hoarder's house. The mess is so overwhelming that you don't even know where to start with it. Yeah, the answer is to get rid of the junk but everything looks like junk when you have a mess this big and some of it is probably not stuff you want to throw away, like the resident's family photo albums or their favorite winter coat. You have to go through it all and figure out what's worth keeping and what's not but there's so. much. stuff.

So you decide that you are going to start by just throwing away all the newspapers that have accumulated over the last 60 years because how could anyone possibly need these? But then you realize that there are newspapers in every room of the house. There are newspapers under the bed. There are newspapers in the attic. There's a fucking newspaper in the refrigerator. Every time you think you've gotten them all, you turn around and see another. You could do this for a month and never finish clearing out just the newspapers, let alone anything else.

So you say forget the newspapers. Let's just work on one room at a time. The living room seems like a good place to start. There are stacks and stacks of junk in there that you can just go through one by one. Except that when you start doing that, you realize that half the house is a fucking jenga tower and if you touch anything this stack, it's going to topple three other 10 foot stacks of stuff and quite possibly crush you underneath it.

Eventually you just get frustrated because you've been working for a week and made no discernible progress. You've thrown out a metric fuckton of junk but there was so much of it to begin with that no one can tell anything is different at all. Meanwhile, the resident of the house has been screaming and crying the entire time because they don't want you to throw away that and no, no please don't get rid of this. You're exhausted and stressed out and then on day 8 the resident gleefully announces they bought more stuff!

At a certain point, you decide it's easier to just live with the mess and one day maybe someone will burn the house down for you and you can just collect the insurance money and start over.

So yeah, sure we can look at an issue from the outside - say deficit spending - and know that the answer is to spend less money. Duh. But when you start to actually look at the federal budget, it's massive and complicated and it's all patchwork and cobbled together haphazardly so every piece of it is interconnected and you can't do anything about this program until you get rid of that program and these programs should probably just be combined but they're in two different branches of government so where are you going to put the new one? And no one really wants to be the guy who tells an entire office full of decent people that they're getting laid off because their program is a waste of time and even if you did want to do that, they're going to pitch a fit and slam you in the press who will obviously take their side and then their union is going to campaign against you and maybe cutting that program just isn't worth the effort. And this all assumes too that the people we're electing even know how to read the budget, which they do not.

Is anyone ever going to fix this whole mess? Probably not. But the people we elect are the ones who decide if we keep making the problem worse or if we put the brakes on. And once in a while you even get a candidate who's willing to knock over the jenga tower in the living room so they can at least get one part of the house back to a functional state.

[violetren]

Aether Chapter 8

So the first time Digilife and Maggie's friend Kelly was mentioned I thought to myself "Wouldn't it be cool if that was Naomi." And the thought returns when Maggie gets a notification from Digilife even though she had them turned off, and I'm like "Naomi and/or Chase could make that happen..."

Then "Kelly" drops the fact that she has two hot girl friends and I'm like "holy shit is it?"

AND THEN "Kelly" calls Sierra "stupidhead" and I'm like "CHASE??? MY BELOVED!!!"

By the time we're talking Nurse Hotness and C Cup I'm sold, and the they start discussing Chase's prolific fanfic writing and I'm just wiggling happily in my chair.

I would not be even a little surprised with Chase was about to/already had broken several data privacy laws trying to find out Maggie's status before she finally answered back.

Chase's breakdown of the different dynamics of SuperCat, SuperLane, and Dream Girl held some Opinions™ and I am very here for them. 10/10 if I was living some sad alternate reality where I didn't know Molly's fan writing prior to reading these books I'd sure as fuck know she was involved in the scene now.

Also I need to go trawling Ao3 for some good gender fluid Lucy fics after this. It's been a fucking while and I need something that stops me from burning through Aether too fast and then getting sad about it.

Breakfast was interesting.

I'm getting the impression that some of the team engage in some good natured ribbing of Varsha's quick talking and fast eating of copious amounts but that maybe it doesn't always land how they intend it? It could also be that she's a little extra put out because they are doing it in front of the pretty new girl she likes. Idk.

I did laugh at Industry and Element only tolerating each other before coffee and being ready to set on fire and otherwise torture everyone else if approached.

Sierra has me in this weird place. Because she has been through So Much what with the almost dying, almost losing her best friend, losing someone she thought she was in love/felt she was in love with for 6 years, and has spent the night in a superhero base which non-super employed folks don't usually do if life if going well.

Of course finding out her life's work is about to get confiscated is gonna have a "straw that broke the camels back" effect.

It's a lot harder to imagine things slowly going back to something like normal when the thing you'd normally throw yourself into to ignore the not normal around you is being taken away. But also it feels off that Maggie is the one taking care of her, and that she's cut up about losing the machine instead of concerned and willing to find out what the fuck part it played in her friends new condition??? I don't know.

I don't think she's a bad person and she's probably holding up better than plenty of others would. I just feel like maybe there is a faint pattern of Sierra taking more from this relationship than she gives back? And like sometimes friendships are like that and so long as the person getting less is still getting Enough that is totally fine. It's just feels off from the outside until you get that confirmation that person B (Maggie in this case) is actually getting Enough instead of settling for less for whatever reason (crush, low self esteem etc.).

On a less confusing and lighter note, I feel like Maggie's coffee order is something I would drink if I hadn't long given up on coffee as something that just gives me fast depression. Mocha with 3 shots chocolate syrup sounds yum. It also sounds warming which might be part of my attraction rn.

[themoomoorn]

Okay, with my first playthrough complete let's rank the Triangle Strategy cast. This ranking list is nonsensical.

(Actually it's a combined score between combat usefulness and characterization, but still nonsensical).

1. Serenoa: 6/10

Good in combat

Wishy washy and a literal throw rug

Literally given a second chance with the English VA and they still muddied it up

Probably has bad joints from all that jumping

2. Roland: 7/10

Handsome

Rides a horsie

So damn squishy like holy fuck

Look man I get why you [REDACTED] but ROLAND YOU FUCKING IDIOT I BELIEVED

3. Frederica: 9/10

You go girl

TO ASHES

Good example of the arranged marriage trope

Point off because let's be honest running away won't solve everything...

4. Benedict: 3.33/10

Most likely to be into crypto

Utility is a mixed bag

Motivations rooted in being a simp and a capitalist, like good lord this guy is petty

English voice acting is garbage

5. Geela: 6/10

One of the few Hyzantian characters not rooted in Unfortunate Implications(tm)

Motivations are a hot mess, goes against Freddie but Freddie doesn't seem to care???

Points on for being a healbot

6. Anna: 7.5/10

Act Twice(tm)

Has an actual jump stat

Has no convictions or goes along with Benedict

Also I suppose it's easy to forgive the guy for [REDACTED] if you [REDACTED]...

7. Erador: 9.5/10

Fun, nice, respectful

Smearing enemies into paste is fun actually

0.5 points off cuz he's a little dense

Corentin friendship tho? Chef's kiss

8. Hughette: 8/10

It's a bird!

THE BIRD IS NAMED FLUGIE THAT'S SO CUTE

Good voicework in English

Blindness and Immobility are always great

9. Corentin: 7.5/10

Gee, I sure wish we got more Hyzante lore out of this guy istg

Sucks against Aesfrosti units

But he's cute

0.5 points off for being a convenient Hyzantian Mighty Whitey(tm)

10. Cordelia: 8/10

Did her best in spite of all the shit that went down

Casts Regen

Cute

Points off for the whole Avlora bit

11. Julio: 7/10

TP Bot

Handsome

You're telling me this guy can't stand for Glenbrook's corrupt upper crust but he doesn't do anything about it??? Why???

But hey, he can succ TP too, that's awesome

12. Medina: 4/10

Utility reliant mainly on items, which you can't get a lot of until NG+; TP healing is nice tho

In love with the Scales of Conviction

Yet another convenient Hyzantian Mighty Whitey(tm)

I really, REALLY hate the "DOCTORS ARE SAVIORS AND BEHAVE AS SUCH" trope

13. Ezana: 1000000/10

THE HEAVENS JUDGE YOU (zap)

That look(tm)

14. Narve: 3/10

He can hit multiple units I guess???

Annoying

Wind spells don't even knock units away, what even is the point

How many of these convenient Hyzantians are there???

15. Hossabara: 5/10

Worst mixed utility unit, squishy

Worst healer

VA voices a garbage character from FE:3H

Basically 5 whole points due to good backstory/encampment services

16. Lionel: 6.66/10

Money/Item bot

Status ailments almost never hit

Dank comedy relief

Actually has good voicework in English

17. Jens: 10/10

Ladders and spring traps are busted, actually

Adorable

He can make TURRETS TOO

We appreciate blacksmiths in this house

18. Piccoleta: 7/10

Decoy trivializes some maps, which is fantastic

Magic Stat is virtually unusable

Flat character even by this game's standards

But she doesn't overstay her welcome at least?

19. Archibald: 200/10

"Help, call an ambulance...BUT NOT FOR ME"

Fine as hell in his youth

Respecc women

Gee, he seems pretty impor...WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE KNEW IDORE!?!?

20. Maxwell "ZA DAWNSPEAR" Trier: 9/10

Hot

Better Roland, more or less

Point off because he affects nothing plot-wise, which is dumb

(Especially if one considers the Golden Ending...)

21. Flanagan: 3/10

Gimmick doesn't pan out - Despite being a Hawkrider his mobility is subpar, and his defense is not that great

GARBAGE attack stat makes it all worse

Erador does his trope (Stone Wall) better in every conceivable way and is also a better character

(Considering Hyzante's position here, Aesfrost having a token good general might as well be moot)

22. Groma: 20/10

Cute old lady martial artist who can dodge shit like come on that's so awesome

Lost lover was Archibald, which is also awesome

More Saltiron lore

Has an actual evasion stat

Unranked at this time: Rudolph, Travis, Trish, Milo (I stayed in Glenbrook for Chapter 15, although what little I got from her is pretty promising), Quahog, Decimal, Giovanna

[manie-sans-delire-x]

Who’s YOUR favorite vc vamp and why?

Sorry this took a week, I was on vacation and wanted to actually give a decent answer since you gave such a good one.

Armand as well!! Or my favorite name of his- Amadeo. I haven't actually read TVA yet, so once I do I'm sure I'll have a lot more to say, but basically I find him to be the most tragically beautiful and endearing, and I relate to him the most.

I love that Armand essentially “lost his god” three, four times. (Nice tragedy bro.) First being raised devoutly Christian as a child- “all he knew was [I forgot the full quote] and God”- then having that ripped away from him by the abduction, being sold to the brothel and sexually abused, being severely beaten and left for dead when he refused. Then Marius appearing to him like a god, saving him and whisking him away and teaching him all this fine art and education and giving him everything- (the cruelty and Marius’s narcissism in naming him Amadeo- “Loved by God”?)- then losing Marius, again in a traumatic kidnapping fashion. Then the Children introducing him to Satanism and brainwashing him- he gained a new God, getting that whole belief system, understanding of reality, and way of life (for 300 yrs!!) shattered to bits in one day by Lestat. He then basically wants Lestat to be his new god and show him a new way of life/give him a new identity. And for the first time in his long life, he’s left without one when Lestat calls him out on this and denies him (one of my favorite parts and, I think, possibly one of Lestat’s kindest and most selfless moments, even if Armand resented him for it.)

His Amadeo in Venice days and relationship with Marius also remind me of one of my OC’s- Kina Sintav from the Elder Scrolls universe. I made her before I ever read VC, but they have quite a few similarities. Namely, being in a dark, murderous cult and their almost childlike reliance and dependence on (due to childhood trauma), extreme loyalty and attachment to, sexual seduction of, submissiveness to, and genuine love, respect, and admiration of an older, occasionally abusive master, who is also their savior from a terrible situation and gave them much more than they ever knew before in their lives, who ends up being traumatically ripped away from them. Also the whole weird, kinda creepy sexual religious vibe and power dynamic going on. (She is an adult in her late twenties/early thirties though, and I want the relationship to be much more of a partnership and dark tragic romance than an abusive or predatory one. She’s also a lot less innocent than 17 yr old human Armand was.)

I don't want to write a whole essay so I'm just gunna list out the things I relate to him about:

1- Physical appearance- auburn hair, pale skin, big brown eyes

2- (seemingly) Eternally youthful appearance-we both look younger than our age (I also relate to Claudia because of this because I sometimes resent it lol)

3- Sexual trauma, although luckily to much different extents

4- Acting seductive to older men, general seductive behavior

5- Enjoying bdsm lmao and relationship control dynamics (in different ways too- Marius, Daniel)

6- Flat affect

7- Using people (Daniel) and items around him, general impulsive careless nature- devouring then throwing aside- his cult members, Lestat’s books

8- Having to be given an identity, lack of own identity

9- Becoming obsessed with certain people/things 

10- Need for control and previously having a lack of it

11- Childlike curiosity, strange innocence

12- Violence, sadism (at least emotionally)

13- Night Island!! If I were incredibly rich that's absolutely something I would create, I've thought about it before.

14- Style- I would definitely lure suicidal people if I were a vamp, just for the poetic beauty of it all. I actually thought about this before when I thought about if vamps had psychic power. Would kill them in a lot of other ways too though, try it all. I would also find a victim like Daniel, I adore that dynamic.

[nathank77]

4/8/24

9:58 p.m edited at 10:33 p.m

I called corporate for Walmart to keep it less personal and they don't handle the resolutions or know what the verdict is. He made me go over the whole experience again and I explained I was terrified of calling the manager bc of the spotlight being on my ocd behavior. I said I'd call but I'm scared I'm going to be told I can't shop there and that I'm going to buy water in like a week and half and I don't want to be bothered.

I mentioned my experience with stop and shop and how I open the bags of chicken and how corporate was more than understanding and they talked to management and are okay with me doing it. I said that technically that's way worse as I am opening prepared food and stop and shop has no problem with it and are accepting and have mental illness awareness and that worse case I'll take my business to stop and shop and target as I spend hundreds at Walmart and I just want to buy my waters every two weeks without employees making me feel uncomfortable. As it gives me extreme anxiety.

Dan didn't sound nice or mean... he is the manager. The way he sounded it sounded totally possible that he was going to say that I can't open the water packages. Although it could go either way. I once again explained how that one employee has yelled at me multiple times and how the assistant manager practically laughed at me and he walked away from me mid sentence saying he doesn't care if I have a mental illness and not to shop there.

I said he had no place in management and the other employee harasses me. I explained that I could easily take my business to stop and shop and target.

Being how intense stop and shop is about stealing, I will have to call inadvance before i start doing it and let them know I open the packs cause once they see a customer open a pack of water there is no doubt they'll send LP at me. However I'm sure they'll be okay with it as long as I don't leave damaged products but I'll spend a lot more money on water....

But yea I got Dan's schedule from corporate and when I'm ready I'll call. They said they documented this phone call and that it is weighed in the case. So I am hopeful if Dan was planning to send me away that this could sway their decision making as the last employee I talked to was eating chips loudly the whole conversation and I felt he didn't really take down the information in detail.

Either way I'm scared. I actually looked up how to get involuntarily committed cause this is what it does to you having a mental illness and having odd behaviors. After being locked away in the psych ward I am terrified that all I got to do is one wrong thing and I'll end up medicated/sedated as a zombie with no ability to chose what I do with my life from when I wipe my ass to when I go to bed.

Appearantly to be involuntarily committed you have to be a danger to yourself or others. As long as I don't take a knife and try to cut myself or threaten people or throw chairs I'm good on that account.... and obv none of that would happen...

The last thing is if the person is deemed gravely ill aka you can't take care of yourself. I buy waters, tooth paste, mouth wash, supplements, deodorant, cheese, bread, allergy meds, pepto, etc all on my Walmart account.

So worse case if I don't call Dan they can have the cops remove me but as long as I act normal they can't commit me. Cause I am not gravely ill and I won't start throwing things or yelling or anything... crying isn't off the table but I'll bite my tongue bc of that...

I'm so sick of my ocd putting a spotlight on me. I'm thankful for hippa though and neither Mike nor Erin or my mother or sister would sign off on me needing to be committed.

I wouldn't put it past my father and step mother. My father pulled me aside last time I went there and was like, you should go to a respite bc of your mother it's not a healthy environment...

Next time I talk to him I'm going to talk to him about it and explain if I were to go to a, "respite" with husky. I would be drugged and have no choice over what drugs go in my body. I'd have all my autonomy taken away. I wouldn't even be able to chose my bed time or if I get my testosterone shot..

Respites are for rich people. And even there I believe as a voluntarily committed person, you lose the ability to pick your drugs. You still lose your autonomy and beyond that my autonomy is very important to me. If I can't do what i want when I want to, even if I could choose my drugs, I wouldn't be in a safer or healthier environment. I mean they'd make me take sedatives hynoptics to treat my circadian rhythm disorder. I would absolutely end up on antipsychotics. I'd lose the ability to drive my car for christ sake. I'd lose everything.

A safe healthy environment for me is one where I can chose what I do to my body. What I eat, what drugs I take, where I go everyday, what I do everyday. I avoid my mother bc she's not healthy to be around.

I wish I didn't have to think about these things. I'm so scared of Walmart.

My dad makes me nervous cause he doesn't understand what being locked away really means for the committed. Padded rooms and court ordered drugs...

The people I talked to in the hearing voices groups said that even if you admit yourself voluntarily, if you didn't want to take a drug. They would actually send a judge to you and force you to bc they'd never let you out if you didn't comply...

I'm the definition of a productive, functional adult. I may not work but I buy expensive tooth pastes, I make my doctors appts, I'm proactive about my health, I buy myself boxers, socks, shoes, food, I cook for myself. I eat 4 meals a day, I'm on a diet. I shower daily. I brush my teeth twice a day. I floss every night. I scrap my tongue for christ sake.

I'm also scared of having my autonomy taken away from me. I didn't tell Walmart about psychosis, as anyone who doesn't know at this point doesn't need to know but this whole thing triggered this, can I be involuntarily committed. It triggered that conversation with my dad where he meant well but he doesn't see the big picture.

He said he couldn't force me to go, no one could... but I mean I worry constantly.

I need my autonomy. I need to lie about auditory hallucinations.

I'm thankful I only have 2 ocd compulsions that are odd behaviors at stores minus checking my car... it's just the chicken and the water. The chicken is done.

The water makes me feel like I'm going to get locked away. And when my dad said no one could lock me away, it made it seem like to me that they would if they could. And it scared me.

I'm constantly terrified I'll be taken away and be a sedated zombie.