#this has been me since i stopped making homebrew content

[brewerssupplies]

Man. I have the want to do so many different projects and pursue so many different art forms. I want to do it all at once and since I can't, I don't do any of it.

[bolognamayhem117]

Title: "Looking at Something?"

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Astarion/M!Tav, elf/elf, paladin/rogue

POV: Tav(Rorik)

Themes: Aggressive flirting, praise kink (if you turn your head and squint), safe for work, mild angst, retconned Canon Dialog.

Warnings: trauma, manipulation, anger, neck wounds, alludes to distant past and recent abuse.

Author's Notes: First and foremost a disclaimer, I created this character on my first playthrough after Robert and I bought the game a year ago. I picked up the controller with zero knowledge of the game's contents after being told you could play as a vampire. I said "That's bold of the developer, fuck it, I'll make Rorik's dumb ass and smeagol my way through the forgotten realms or whatever..." Turns out the person who told me that was referencing the Astarion Origin playthrough. I said "Screw It I'm Doing It Anyway! With the power of IMAGINATION." To my delight and surprise it really wasn't all that hard to use paladin spells, items, scroll hoarding, and armor to very closely model the homebrew build of Rorik the Degenerate Dhampir Sun Worshipping Paladin. He has his own issues which this ficlet hints at. He's cringe, be gentle.

Fic Summary: Astarion is looking for reassurance or praise or... Something, and then the writer remembered they used the intelligence as a dump stat to boost their Tav's charisma and rolled with it. Mentions a friend's character. I only barely proofread so consider this your warning.

Tagged at request: @ghostkingart

“Looking at something?” Astarion addressed Rorik when the paladin passed behind him and paused.

Rorik was tired, he'd stopped on his way back from a piss because something wasn't right. He’d been too beaten by the beasts of the underdark to process the scene before him for its absurdity. The vampire spawn was holding a hand mirror, scowling into it as if scorn might make his reflection appear in its smooth glitter.

The high elf angled the mirror in such a way that Rorik could see himself. Did he always look so serious? Yet disinterested? Rorik seldom sought his reflection, it wasn't a countenance he wanted to face.

“Just looking. What are you doing?”

“I'm looking too, but not seeing very much” Astarion told Rorik almost softly, sadly. “Another quirk of my affliction.” he spat the last word as if it tasted rancid, eyes dark and lips cutting a sour pout.

Rorik had heard these sorrow-songs many times in his homeland and beyond. He was no stranger to this agony, but it never got easier to hear it, even from a spawn he hardly knew, harboring a strain of the cursed malady he was not so familiar with. It seemedthat no matter the variant, it affects one's reflection in glass treated with a paper thin veneer of silver.

Rorik played the fool, wrong as it felt to pretend he needed to ask questions in order to guess how Astarion might feel about not having seen himself in centuries.

“Do you miss it? Seeing your own face?”

“Preening in the looking glass? Petty vanity?!” He bordered on sounding offended, but his expression shifted with the same flippancy as his whims. Sometimes Rorik wondered if Astarion was making himself hard to read on purpose. Now, with a short but heavy pause, he went on with a longing about the droop of his shoulders and the way he looked at the other man, perhaps with jealousy. “Of course I do…”

He continued.

“I've never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and its eyes turned red.” And then, those scarlet eyes plunged back into darkness with his last syllables. His seething glare burned as hot as the Sun's love burned his vampiric skin in the day, before the illithid worm at least.

Rorik tried a question he'd heard many times before, sometimes even directed at himself. It might keep him talking. “What color were they before?”

“I... I don't know. I can't remember.” His glare softened with something that half revealed him, but the outraged anguish returned to him, as it tends to do. “My face is just some dark shape in my past. Another thing I've lost.”

Astarion threw down the mirror as he finished, it cracked as it struck the packed earth beneath them. If they were standing in a proper room of wooden or brick floor then the mirror would have shattered in a spectacular fashion.

Spiteing the fact that Astarion needn't air to live, he drew pants of heavy breath as he bared his teeth in his anger. He had every right to be angered, all spawn do.

Patience, Rorik reminded himself. As much as it went against his instincts to stick around within range of teeth while their owner bobbed between drowning in their own righteous fury and the oblivion of sorrow, there was always something about Astarion which lured him in. Rorik could still look at himself in a mirror, most of the time, and he thought maybe the reason he hadn't yet walked away from Astarion while he tantrumed about his past, present or Casador might just be because: he could see his reflection in Astarian, too. His pain felt all too familiar.

“What?” Astarian broke him from his thoughts.

Rorik corrected quickly, unsure what his own expression had revealed. He straightened a head that had tilted toward his left shoulder, fixed his eyes which he guessed had softened upon Astarian’s anger on base instinct. Too close. He'd almost fallen victim to his old habits, but Astarian was no flailing racer stallion who required the softness of a coddling stable pony to calm him. And Rorik was nobody's pony anymore.

“I'll be your mirror. What do you want to know?” It was a cheap distraction, yes, but he found in it genuine empathy. Astarian couldn't see himself, hadn't seen himself in two-hundred years, he deserved the next best thing.

“I want to know what the world sees when it looks at me. What you see.” Astarian replied with another reflection, this time of Rorik’s own sincerity.

The deferring tipping of Astarian's head told it all. A wound had been bared for Rorik to examine, one he could grind salt into and Astarian knew that. It was the scattered moments of vulnerability that helped Rorik stay, too.

He feigned a smile just in time, before his silence convinced Astarion that something was wrong. The others' brows were already creased as he braced to be hurt.

“Well, the shmutz of bullette viscera smeared on your left cheek has my attention right now.” Rorik jabbed casually.

Astarion scrubbed his wrist over his face with an irritable grimace, following Rorik's gesture to find the supposed smear of gore, only to find nothing because Rorik was having a little fun at his expense. Astarion was fastidious in his grooming. He’d missed nothing when he'd washed.

Rorik was rewarded with a glare, so he laughed, “If I didn't like you, I wouldn't jest… I'm not a poet, I'm not romantic by any stretch of the imagination, and I don't do flattery. So brace yourself.”

“Oh.. Kay…?” Astarion murmured.

Rorik straightened his posture to look Astarion from the toe of each tidy elvish crafted loafer up to the top most curl of his head of white silver. Consciously taking him in only topically.

“If I were unbiased and this were my first impression: Your face is long but not overly narrow. Your nose is very straight, cutting a tidy profile. I imagine you've never had it broken. The fairness of your skin hints at a noble upbringing; a childhood spent indoors rather than under the gaze of the noon sun. Your hands are clean and unmarred, so for certain you're not a laborer. You are clearly particular about how your hair is done every morning… Your jaw is angled sharply toward your chin but is neither too strong nor too weak. It suits you well. Your lips are full which reinforces an air of youth about you, and your upper lip is just a bit thicker than the lower without being distracting… About five foot and eleven inches, shoulders broad enough to mandate care toward them when having garments tailored… In all, The world sees a young elf.”

Rorik bit the end of his tongue as he finished, holding back the last and decidedly biased thought: that he saw all these things too but accompanied by eyes which looked as tired as he often felt himself.

Astarion's expression was empty yet soft, gaze drifting into the middle distance until the very end when his brows furrowed and his mouth twisted as if something had curdled in it.

“Eugh! Must you always make everything sound so clinical!? You told Edmund this morning the cactus where your heart should be has beautiful flowers and that was backhanded!” Astarion mocked Rorik's northerner accent, badly, “I know you can do better than that. Ugh, for shits’ sake, why do you find me attractive? Why does anyone find me attractive, Rorik?”

That took Rorik off guard. This wasn't just about forgetting one's own appearance, was it? It was about Astarion understanding how the world was affected by his body being in it. Rorik shifted in discomfort, now put on the spot to summarize the things he personally found alluring. He felt almost dirty saying it.

“I- suppose people can't help themselves but to admire? You're striking. Perfectly styled snow hair, you're well formed… Em, lovely skin? like opal? White opal. Were you true symmetrical I would've drawn my sword, having mistook you for a stone wit-”

“I- I'm not symmetric?? Where is my face uneven!? Tell me this instant!” The high elf squawked, hands smoothing up the planes and dips of his visage in search.

Rorik snorted. Astarion seemed like the type to become offended at the mention of a slightly uneven cupid’s bow. Best not add to his self image anxieties too much. A true lie would have to do.

“You have a freckle or two, perhaps from your recent love affair with the sun.”

“Freckles?!”

“Oh, relax. Not near as many as me.” Rorik reassured.

“Hmph. That was… Better-ish, I suppose. You're onto something, keep going.”

Rorik's expression pinched with realization. “Is that all you're after? Shallow praise?”

“Hardly! I'm also after gold, sex, revenge. Quite the list, really, and failing any of those I will always settle for: shallow praise.”

“Fuck that noise. I can do better than patting your ass with a couple cheap compliments.”

“Care to expand on that? I can't tell if I'm being derided or offered an upgrade from your awkward small talk.” Astarion harrumphed and began picking under his fingernails, apparently checking out of the conversation in a display of boredom.

Rorik stepped closer to recapture his attention, spurred forward by a volatile cocktail of embarrassment, ego, and vindictiveness that had spilled in close proximity to the competitive streak within him.

“I used to be good at this. I swear. You'll just have to be patient while I call it back to me.” Rorik leveled in a low rumble, and it was no bluff. Idle worship of a bloated ego had saved his skin in his youth more times than he could count. This bordered too close to an exhumation of the corpse of his past, but if the occasion calls for it in the name of harmless fun: then let old habits lumber about like a fucking zombie.

Astarion's eyes lit themselves with dark amusement, leaning in too with a smug sneer, “Call louder. I think it ran straight past you.”

Rorik wasted no breath on the others' taunting. He delivered. “Your eyes are extraordinary, they burn through people like a branding iron. I'd rather face a devil I’d sleighted.”

Astarion let loose the bark and giggle of laughter which used to grate on Rorik's nerves, “Oh, not bad… and you said you don't do flattery! Do go on.”

That's one point to Rorik. He wanted more than that. He wanted to win whatever this was. “They have their moments of immeasurably inviting softness, too. Eyes like yours tend to get their way with me, if I'm being honest… And don't let that go to your head.”

“Ha! Hard not to. That's a dangerous admission.” Astarion swayed his shoulders and hummed with an odd, rich texture in his voice. His expression was guarded, however.

“Awareness of one's weaknesses is healthy, I'm told..” Rorik commented rather pointlessly. Choosing pretty analogies for the features of a face he found attractive felt more risky than it should. Rorik's jaw and throat felt hot for no particular reason. “Moving on. Your smile is deadly. Like a bear trap lined with sweet meats and candied fruit. A pout, a grin, a laugh, they all draw me closer…”

Closer. Astarion must've taken the utterance of the word as an invitation. He brandished that smile like a blade now and brought them near nose to nose. “Yes, yes. You're right. But we know better, don't we, Rorik?”

Not fair. Rorik’s naked skull felt like it was on fire, and the feeling was not limited to neck and up.

“We do. You can't lure bats with candy in pretty wrappers.” he tilted his head with his words, ever so minutely, exposing the angry punctures in his throat.

“If it isn't the sweet taste that draws you in, then what is it? Tell me Acolyte.”

Rorik shook his head. “You know I'm a masochist. You know the answer to that.”

“Aw, Little Treat longs to be trapped? How delightfully demented.”

“Mm,” Rorik offered a solemn nod. It was another admission of those dirty weaknesses. “Last thing for now-”

“For now?” Astarion crooned, grinning wickedly as he underlined Rorik's implication that he may have more to say on this particular topic at a later date.

“For now,” Rorik confirmed but teased… Teasing? He'd never teased like this, in this context, before. Best end on a note of humor, “Speaking of teeth, you've the most polite little feedin’ fangs.”

“...What?” Astarion straightened then and leaned away.

Rorik must've thrown him off his rhythm with that one. Right. Astarion was from a small coven, and apparently not one which enjoyed the bleak humors of the condition.

Rorik leaned minutely closer and bared his razors in a grimace with a finger directing attention to them. “I'm saying, your teeth look almost normal. At least compared to these lawn shears I was saddled with. Your smile is still sharp, but passable. Many with the condition aren't so lucky.”

“Good to know I'm not a complete freak.” Astarion harrumphed.

“Maybe I crossed the line. I forget, not everyone reconciles it all so easily.” Rorik admitted, but refused to backpedal that last opinion.

“I suppose I can give you a pass on it, given that you were born with… All of that.” Astarion gave a waving finger gesturing to all of Rorik as he half-accepted the half-apology.

Rorik couldn't help but chuckle and look away, the imagery brought to mind was too heinous and ridiculous all at once. “Well, I was indistinguishable from the living until I consumed blood at fifteen-ish but, sure. I wasn't bottle fed monk blood as a tot. Couldn't imagine that horror.”

"Normal children are horrible enough… Now, why don't you just tell me I'm beautiful and we'll call it an evening.” Astarion shifted the topic smartly, but looked away for a moment too.

The dance was strange. Rorik wasn't sure what they were doing, but he sort of liked it.

“You're alright, Gale is more my type.” Rorik lied, blatantly.

“How dare you!” Astarion's tone was playful, rather than offended, although it's always hard to tell with Astarion, “I thought we had something special… Still, you're nice too. I’d better get some beauty sleep. It seems I need it if I'm to catch up with the competition.”

Rorik could only shake his head. Everyone has a type. Astarion's was apparently fractured faces and a malignant glare. Rainar's glare. Rorik quickly tossed aside the errant thought and the accompanying cruel memory. He dipped his head before deciding to attend his own sleep.

“Sure sure, but do tread with caution. The pursuit of perfection is perilous, and you're already knocking on the door.” Rorik offered with a smirk. This game was… fun.

“Hhmf! Says he's not romantic,” Astarion mocked talking to himself, shooting a dark glance and that dangerous smile over his shoulder as Rorik retreated to his bedroll by the fire.

[dungeonsandblorbos]

Campaign/Character Intro: Curse of Strahd homebrew, feat. Cerris Dalca

Status: Indefinite hiatus :( System: DnD5e

About: This was my lovely husband @somethingclevermahogony's first go at DMing, so we started with the official 5e Curse of Strahd campaign book . . . and then it turned out that the official content was far too shallow for our worldbuilding-loving crew, so I'm pretty sure a good 80% of this campaign is homebrew by now. We've stuck to the basic plot and history, I think, but added a lot to flesh it all out and really ramped up the gothic horror. Also the body horror. This campaign is also largely the reason that I started getting into whump, so, ya know, . . . make of that what you will. It's currently on indefinite hiatus, as we moved to another country after session 36 and trying to schedule remote games has been rough. But! Hopefully we will be able to resume it soon, and I've also been toying around with writing up a whole narrative of the story so far because I have so much brain rot about it and really want to share the horrors and heartwarming moments with other people, because it's unfair that my party are the only ones so obsessed with this story and these characters.

Genres: Medieval fantasy, Gothic horror Rating: Explicit General content warnings: strong language, mature humor, drug and alcohol consumption, some sexual themes, some religious themes, fantasy violence, blood and gore, body horror, child endangerment, unintentional cannibalism, and oh my god so much more. Posts will be individually tagged with any relevant warnings, and I will hide particularly bad details under cuts. Tags: #curse of strahd homebrew, #cerris dalca, #meow meow milo, #dos holy boys, #cerris and milo, #cerris and ireena, #cos memes, narrative tag TK

story and character details under the cut

The Story

The once-prosperous valley nation of Barovia has been isolated in some forgotten pocket dimension for the past 400 years, its people so irrevocably trapped within its misty borders that not even death can provide an escape. The sun does not shine here. There are no songbirds, only crows and ravens and owls. And the dead do not like to stay dead. Even its ruler, Strahd von Zarovich, is unhappy with the state of things—and, well, who can blame him for being so restless? Little has changed over the course of his centuries-long reign. And he's as stuck there as his subjects . . . for now, anyway.

Lucky for him, the new band of adventurers he's lured to his country were naive enough that he easily manipulated them into helping his escape plans. The necessary rituals have been completed; all he has to do is wait.

Unlucky for him, those adventurers are a lot warier now that they've been tricked once, and a lot more motivated to actually make a stand against him. Even worse, they've already begun acting on that prophecy they got from his wretched half-sister, collecting all these random things that will supposedly enable them to permanently kill him. But they've lost a lot along the way, including 2/3s of their party, and they've made more enemies than allies. It will be an uphill battle, but righteous vengeance is a powerful motivator.

The Blorbos

I play Cerris Dalca (depicted above), a 23-year-old human tempest cleric, who is the primary reason I started this sideblog, actually. I just couldn't stop thinking about him and it was driving me mad. He's my comfort character. He's my bisexual disaster babygirl. He's my rotten soldier, my sweet cheese, my good bad time boy. He's the favored plaything of multiple god-tier beings and also me, so he's had a very rough time since arriving in the Shadowfell. He still has a lot to learn before he's ready to face Strahd, but I believe that one day, Cerris can save Barovia. Once upon a time, Cerris was a sheltered farmboy (and technically minor nobility) with great power thrust upon him without his consent, who was deeply disturbed by how much damage he could do in a fight. Nowadays, he's a hardened adventurer with severe depression and a nasty guilt complex that he copes with by turning it into righteous anger and constantly throwing himself in harm's way. He's compassionate, self-sacrificial, brutally determined, and a tactless, passive aggressive little brat. He's also a dad now. Yeah, he killed a monster and then it turned out the monster was a halfling child so he brought him back to life and adopted him. He's so very tired because his child is a kleptomaniacal menace but he loves him dearly and would do anything for him, including fight a whole family of Eldritch gods.

Our original party consisted of him; Valessha, an androgynous moon elf knowledge cleric and the smartest of the bunch (an unfortunately low bar); and Shalden Broadfist, a purple half-orc paladin with a bad case of worm brain. And then Valessha got kidnapped by the Bagman. And Shalden's worm brain turned out to be literal, as in, there was literally a modified mind flayer tadpole in his brain that's now been activated by [SPOILER] to turn him into a loyal puppet. There might be a way to save him, and Shalden's old mentor, Shüval Grindurst, a deep gnome barbarian, is determined to find it.

We also have all of your favorite standard Curse of Strahd NPCs, including the dread king Strahd von Zarovich, Mr. Tall Suave and Evil himself, and Ireena Kolyana, the fiery but sheltered young noblewoman he's obsessed with, not really in a romantic way but definitely in a creepy way. She and Cerris had a really cute little mutual crush thing going on until, uh, that ritual Strahd tricked the party into helping him complete that . . . well, it's a bit too complicated to say concisely but the point is that Ireena is now Strahd's prisoner and it's partially Cerris's fault. But Strahd does really enjoy taunting Cerris about her, and it seems that she's not only safe but also still likes him. So that's a plus, at least.

And of course we have a full roster of original NPCs as well! Including Cerris's monster child, Milo, the Bagman; beardless dwarf detective and retired adventurer, Achille Paydirt, who talks like Hercule Poirot; the capitalist hag Mother, who is easily one of the most hateable villains to ever exist; and Daddy Eldritch, a horrible eldritch monstrosity who masquerades as a charming southern gentleman without a face and lives on a farm that exclusively grows miles and miles of very cursed corn. And so much more! If I tried to list all the delightful friends and awful enemies we've made along the way, we'd be here all day. But you'll get to meet them all eventually, I'm sure.

[coralinehecc]

Corals Monthly Update #3

HOHOHO!! FIRST BLOG POST OF 2023 AND I’M NEARLY 2 WEEKS LATE!!! Super sorry about the long wait! I’ve had tests recently and only got off of school like a few days ago haha! So! Welcome back to my monthly update on what I get up to in my life! Now, before we get into January, I, for the final time, have to tap back into the previous month. Curse past me for thinking the 21st was a good day to start doing these!!! ANYHOW! The rest of December and early January were a BLAST! But lemmie talk about what happened after I made the last update. CHRISTMAS!! I had a great time with my family and I got a bunch of fluffy things cuz that’s apparently the easiest thing to get me now. We also had dinner on Christmas day with my Grandparents like every year. Over-all that day was very fun! I even got drunk playing Minecraft which was funny for everyone in VC. The next few days weren’t anything exciting, however my brother Finn had a bunch of his friends over for his birthday which was chaotic. But the excitement picks back up on the 28th! BECAUSE SKYE AND VI CAME OVER FOR NEW YEARS!! We’ve been planning this since like, June, so it was awesome seeing them again! We did all kinds of stuff from shopping to playing some awesome games! (I am now chronically addicted to Ultra Kill thanks guys)

We even did some baking! Here is our glorious creation I dubbed, “The Jimothy”. 

Overall the rest of December was awesome! I’m glad I got to celebrate New Years with my besties! Overall, I’ll give it a 10/10! Best way to end 2022 >:D Here’s a few more misc photos hehehhehe

NOW! FOR JANUARY!! January started off still vibing with the guys. However they would then go home on the 4th which sucks. But before that, both Skye and I spent a lot of money on consoles that are almost as old as ourselves. They bought a fucking PS Vita and I got a motherfucking Wii. We both had fun with em and I even helped Skye homebrew their Vita since I wanted to put PebbleCD on it (I failed but shut uuup) But yea, sadly the guys had to go and it sucked! But I still had a great time. There’s a bit of a gap here right up until the 12th, where finally, the big event happened. CAREY IN THE HOUSE WENT LIVE!! I had finished it a few days prior but figured I’d build up hype by posting it on that Friday. AND IT SURE WORKED! The video blew up faster than any of my videos before it! I am so happy the response has been overwhelmingly positive. I also love how the only main complaint that was common amongst people was that Careys exaggerated accent was annoying which, yea can’t argue against. For anyone wishing for more CITH content, I did a behind the scenes mega thread over on my twitter if you wanna have a deeper look into the production! I’ll even link it here:  https://twitter.com/Carey_Black_/status/1619731723352444928 Now, to move onto why it took me forever to make an update. My mock exams.. BUT BEFORE THAT!! THERE’S ALSO THE FACT THAT MR WULF AND I WERE ABLE TO ARCHIVE THE ORIGINAL EDDSWORLD BANG BOOM SPLAT PROJECT FILE!!

This all started because Wulf wanted to edit the credits for his arcade BBS build since I was helping him out and since I said SWF modding is hard he just casually asked Psycosis and after seeing his WIP cabinet, gave Wulf the FLA! So a current “BBS arcade version” is in the works by yours truly thanks to both the generosity of Psycosis and the fact that Mr Wulf is a fucking mad man who could stop global warming in a month if he wanted to LOL! Here’s Wulfs finished Cabinet btw!:  https://twitter.com/MrWulfOfficial/status/1622295302685315073 But yea, for real. My mock exams were a pain! For those outside of Ireland or have a different name for em, Mock exams are, well, exams that act like a practice run for your finals. They’re always harder than the actual finals and are usually graded stricter too! Why? Who knows! The Irish education system is a joke. I feel like I did somewhat ok in them anyway? Some were definitely worse than others but overall it was more of an inconvenience. I did get this really cool art piece out of it however.

Exams would later spill over into February and like I said at the start, I finished and got off school a few days ago. Overall, this month was about a 7/10. It was pretty good, especially in the Eddsworld department, but mocks and other personal tid bits I didn’t mention here dragged it down for me. Since February seems to be mostly me being off school, I hope this month will be better haha! Only time will tell! Thank you for reading! And I hope to see you next month!! (Hopefully on time too haha!) 

[tigerkirby215]

Oopsie poopsie Riot did a fucky wucky uwu

It's been a bit since I've announced I'm basically quitting League and well... a lot has happened huhn? Between Riot not caring about the start of Season 13 and the OpenGL 1.1 shitshow I feel like I need to talk about the future of this blog.

1. WILL YOU KEEP MAKING D&D 5E CONTENT?

Yes. This is still the main TTRPG system I play and until the open gaming license completely forbids this blog I'll likely keep posting builds here. If OpenGL 1.1 comes out I'll likely be labeling all my builds with #WoTCBad & #OpenDnD for the foreseeable future but this won't impact what I post on this blog. Me boycotting WoTC's D&D branch won't stop me from posting builds with the content I have.

I might transition more into homebrew promotion if 5e's official content proves lazy and shady, but I am hesitant to turn this blog into primarily a homebrew blog if OpenGL 1.1 takes control.

2. WHAT ABOUT OTHER TTRPGS?

I don't know. I don't play other TTRPGs much: I have no interest in Pathfinder which would be the most obvious transition, and other systems would be... odd to move to, especially given the usual IPs I make D&D builds for.

Speaking of which...

3. WILL THERE BE MORE LEAGUE OF LEGENDS CONTENT?

Yes, but I don't see myself having any significant hype for new champions given the state of League after season 12 / moving into season 13. The game is moving in a direction I don't particularly enjoy or have interest in, and it's hard for me to find motivation to make content when I don't like the game. I still love League's characters which is why builds for at least K'Sante are coming but beyond that is up in the air.

3.1. WHAT ABOUT OTHER RIOT GAMES CONTENT?

Oh absolutely! If other games from Riot Games or Riot Forge provide compelling kits for TTRPG characters I may build them. The problem obviously lies both in the games I'm adapting (it's not like I can make much out of Legends of Runeterra) as well as how recognizable the characters are.

I have no interest in Valorant (though I'm not against trying?) so don't expect any Valorant builds. I'd like to stick to the Runeterra IP basically.

4. SO WHAT'S COMING THEN?

Not too sure. Not only did both Riot and WoTC do a fucky wucky, but I'm very busy with my own D&D campaign, a new semester of schooling and just... life? I have a lot less time in a psychology major than I do in my old business major is all I'll say.

I don't hate the current state of Dead by Daylight so I'm willing to provide promotion for that particular skinner box. Beyond that I'm not invested in many other games with the exception of... some...

Maybe I'll try to snag the Cult of the Lamb build before Tulok makes one. Maybe I'll finally go through my back catalogue of one-off builds. Maybe I'll become a filthy DOTA 2 player once again.

5. ANYWHERE ELSE TO FOLLOW YOU?

Linked above is one of my tweets: I'm active on Twitter (perhaps too active) but I primarily just shitpost about Dead by Daylight there. I do other things... but yeah it's mostly DbD shitposting.

If I go MIA on Tumblr again you can find me on Twitter, basically. And if I go MIA on Twitter then I'm probably going to be here lol.

[i-have-a-sideblog-problem]

A Petty Night of Dnd

This idea popped into my head after reading some Obey Me D&D headcanons. This is extremely self-indulgent (this wasn't even supposed to be a story). Mc is gender neutral and is referred to using just "you" and "yours".

Summary: The events of Lesson 16 have long passed, and Mc and the boys have had serval long emotional chats about the events that happened. Apologies have been given, and Mc has had time to heal. But that doesn't mean Mc can't mess with the boys about what happened. With the help of Simon, Mc is going to make a game session the boys won't forget.

Content Warnings: Violence, Blood, Role play character death, A little bit of angst (I think)

Word Count: 1412

------------- <3.<3.<3.<3.<3. ------------- <3.<3.<3.<3.<3. -------------

Mc and all the brothers are playing D&D together with Simon as the DM. The campaign is a standard medieval setting, homebrewed by Simon.

Starting off, the game is a bit chaotic. Half the brothers are dicking around (Asmo, Mammon, Belphie), while Lucifer and Beel are still trying to get the concept of role-playing. Eventually, everyone really gets into the game. You all are working as a team, beating quests, "figuring" out puzzles, and hitting heartfelt story beats/ character backgrounds. Diavolo, Barbados, Solomon, and even Luke occasionally come and watch everyone play, much to Lucifer's annoyance.

Another game night rolls around, and at this point, you and the brother had gotten a decent way through the story's plot. Tonight Diavolo and Barbados are watching everyone play, though at the moment they're only half paying attention since everyone just finished a battle with the Big Bad's second in command. Simon was currently narrating Mc and the brothers heading back to their camp and getting ready for a long rest. Everyone is in high spirits after a successful battle.

After Simon is done setting the scene, he turns to you, "Mc, everyone is asleep what would your character like to do?"

No one pays any mind to you and Simon, they have all had their characters do stuff at night before, be it spell prepping, or in Mammon's case failing at robbing others.

You flip through your character sheet, "I'd like to cast silence on everyone but Beel's and Belphie's characters."

Levi stops adjusting his character sheet and looks at you confused, "I thought you were out of spell slot?"

You shrug, "I miss counted. Now Simon who's closest to my character?"

Simon gestures to each demon as he speaks, "I believe the two closest to you are Lucifer's and Mammon's character, then it's Satan, Asmo, and Levi. Beel and Belphie are outside the sphere next to each other."

"Awesome, I'm going to use the hide action." Mc succeeds with the stealth roll, and Simon grants you advantage on your next roll. Half the table groans waiting for you to steal from them.

Lucifer crosses his arms over his chest, "I expect this from Mammon about you too, Mc."

You ignore him with a smile and take out far too many dice you would need to pickpocket someone. You wanted to make a show of what you had planned next. You rolled your dice in pairs each one hitting the numbers you needed to, gambling with Mammon was coming in handy right now.

"And did I hit, Simon?" You know the answer, but you were feeling smug.

Simon stared at your rolls with wide eyes, "Oh my. Yes, you did for... Wow, everyone. You can go ahead and roll damage."

Everyone's jaw dropped at Simon's words. Mammon was the first to speak up, "Damage! Oi whatta think ya doin'!"

You wave off Mammon and continue your plan, "I'm going to attack with the magic short sword I got and do a fatal strike on everyone but Beel and Belphie's character. Also for these attacks, I'll take the damage penalty that lets me make everyone skip the CON save." All hell breaks loose at your words. The brothers are cursing and screaming about how could you do this and how that's not fair, but Simon allows it as the DM.

"This is bullshit!" Satan rips his character sheet in half, fuming across the table from you, now he knows why you didn't sit next to him today.

Amso whines, a full pout on his face, "I liked my character, Mc! How could you!"

You give him a quick apologetic smile and pat him on the shoulder before turning back to Simon, "I'd like to dispel silence, and move to attack Beel's character." Beel was already looking sad, but now he looked like a kicked hell pup.

Simon nodded, "Roll to hit."

Luck had been on your side so far tonight and you only needed a little more to complete the plan you've been wanting to do for so long. Belphie looks directly across the table at you. Normally after a big battle, he'd doze off only waking up if Beel shook him and told him that he had to take a turn. But now he was wide awake; confused and curious about what your twisted game was.

You held eye contact with Belphie as you clutched the dice tightly in the palm of your hand. In one swift motion, you throw the dice, and everyone watched carefully as they rolled.

The dice landed perfectly.

A wide tooth grin appeared on your face as your eyes shot back up to meet Belphie's. "Before I stab my sword into Beel's character's chest, I call out to Belphie's character and shout, Now you know how it feels!" The look of horror on everyone's face as the realization sets in as to why you attacked everyone's character suddenly.

Simon beings to narrate, "As you yell both Beel's and Belphie's characters awake. The last thing you see, Beel, is a slight glint of silver from the hilt of the blade. The rest of the sword is covered in a thick dark red."

You started to feel slightly guilty about your actions after looking over at Beel's face. The poor demon looked so distraught, but you would make it up to him later with plenty of snacks and hugs. You were too far into your mission to quit now, plus Belphie's reactions mostly washed away the guilt.

Simon continued, "Mc, your character proceeds to fall to the ground. Your last kill taking you out as well. Belphie, what do you want your character to do?"

Belphie snaps out of his confused haze at the sound of his name. "What? I...I um...I don't know, everyone's dead! What can I do?" He glared at you, "Why did you kill everyone?", he pointed his finger at Simon, "Why did you let Mc, do that!"

Mc smirked at him, "Now Blephie, Simon asked what your character does, don't break character now."

Belphie scowled more, "I guess...I look around the room at everyone laid out dead. And I go over between Mc's and Beel's character and fall to my knees screaming and crying till I pass out."

Simon nods, "You pass out holding onto your twin, warm tears still stain your face as you lay on his chest. I need you and Amira to make a history check." You and Belphie both roll your dice and pass the check.

Simon quickly hides the small smile that formed, "Belphie, your character sleeps through the night and wakes up to the sound of your party members getting ready for the day. You lay cuddled up to Beel's character's chest, as he lightly shakes up trying to wake you up faster. Everyone still feels a bit groggy, like they didn't have the most peaceful night's sleep, though the six of you", Simon gestures to Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, Satan, and Asmo, Beel, "don't remember what the dream was that caused such an unpleasant night of sleep... Everyone is back to full heal!"

Satan throws up his hands in anger, "WHAT! We're alive! I ripped up my character sheet!"

"Yes, you've done that quite a few times Satan, I will bring you the extra copy next session as usual. Now, that's where we'll end today's session everyone." Simon turns towards you with an impressed smile, "Mc, I'm quite surprised, I didn't think you'd be able to pull this off."

You had a proud smirk on your face, "For an angel, you have little faith, Simon."

Levi looked beyond betrayed, "You knew about this! And let Mc do it!"

You began to pack up your stuff, "Oh, you guys are overreacting. The timeline got wiped, so it's fine, right Barbatos, Diavolo."

Diavolo and Barbatos stiffened at your words. Diavolo was the first to speak up, "Mc, we've apologized, and we, I'm still very sorry. The test wasn't fair. And-"

You hold up your hand, "Oh, I know and I've forgiven you. All of you, since we discussed everything." You gave an evil smile to them, "I'm just petty." You went over to Simon and gave him a quick hug, "Thanks for letting me do this little side quest!" You patted Belphie on the head as you exited the room, leaving the boys to unpack that night's session.

Satan mumbled under his breath as you left, "Are we sure Mc isn't a demon?"

[svartalfhild]

Cold

Rating: T

Genre: Gothic Romance, Gothic Horror, Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort

Words: 6,211

Summary: Vrae and Caspar make a risky choice about their relationship and go on a journey that forces them to face what that choice means for them in their dark world.

Content Warnings: sex-negative language, discussions of violent family death and domestic abuse, possession

A/N: This is a small story that covers an important moment in the life of my new DnD character, a drow bard who is from Ravenloft, but ends up in a homebrew setting for our campaign.

Previous Stories: The Oracle and the Officer, (Un)bearable, Shattered, The Mirror is in the Eye of the Muse

~ ~ ~

“Shaena, don’t be crude,” Vrae scolded, taking a sip of tea and looking over at her halfling friend as they sat in the back room of her shop.

“What?  It’s true.  And besides, I’ve gotta say it crude like to keep things in perspective for you and make sure you don’t forget what you’re letting into your boudoir every week.  Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate you literally taking one for the team for years now, and I can’t imagine how difficult that’s been for you, but sometimes I worry that you’ll get wrapped up in his feelings,” Shaena replied, humorously at first, but growing more serious as she spoke, and Vrae let out a sharp laugh.

“Just because he’s madly in love with me doesn’t mean I’m going to lose myself in the throes of passion.  All it means is that he trusts me with both his body and his heart, and that makes my job incredibly easy.”  Vrae hated lying to her friend like this.  She hated that she couldn’t confide in anyone.  She felt something for a Kargat agent and didn’t know what to do about it.  She needed advice, but there was no one she could trust.  As good a friend as Shaena was, Vrae knew the halfling’s staunch commitment to political dissent would prevent her from being willing to understand the situation.

“You certainly do have the great idiot wrapped around your little finger, I’ll give you that.”  Outwardly, Vrae didn’t react to Shaena insulting Caspar, but it took some effort to stop herself from flinching.  It used to be that she would have smiled at the comment, reveling in how easy it was to manipulate Caspar, but over the past year, she’d started to feel more and more guilty and uncomfortable speaking ill of him.  As much as she would have liked to snap at Shaena for talking shit about her man, she had to just grin and bear it.  “And you’ve fleeced him of quite a bit of his money.  Let’s see that new dressing gown you mentioned earlier.”

Eager to change the subject even a little, Vrae wasted no time in going to retrieve said dressing gown.  It didn’t hurt that she was genuinely excited to show it off to Shaena, who gave a whistle when she returned.

“Damn, that’s gorgeous.  Is that silk lace along the hem?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Well, give us a turn then.”  Vrae slowly turned about in the long silvery silk of the gown, displaying the black lace appliqué that continued at the back.  “Oh, that is lovely.  I should ensnare a rich boy so I can have posh things too,” Shaena remarked with a snicker and Vrae shrugged.

“Good luck finding another one with taste.  You should see some of the looks young noblemen are into these days.  I performed after Solfira Bessdirith at a gala in the spring, and let me tell you, the dress her patron gave her to wear was the most unfortunate piece of feminine fashion I’ve seen in years.”

“That’s a fair point.  I’m not sure I could tolerate that.”

“Caspar has his virtues, and thankfully one of them is good taste.”

“Well, we’ve always known that, since he fell in love with you,” Shaena quipped, and Vrae lightly smacked her shoulder in return.

“Ha!  Right you are!”  Shaena looked like she was about to make another joke at this, but then they heard the distant chimes of the cathedral bell denoting the change of the hour, and she climbed out of her chair.

“That’s my cue.  Thanks for the updated cypher.  And the tea, of course.”  Shaena held up a folded piece of paper that Vrae had given her earlier that contained the latest Kargat code, carefully copied from Caspar’s secret notebook.

“My pleasure, darling.  Stay safe.”  Vrae gave a nod and watched her small friend quickly exit the shop.  Why did it fill her with such relief to see her go?  Why did she wish for Caspar to appear at the threshold?  That wasn’t how things should be.  When had her life become so twisted and confused that she feared her friend and desired her enemy?

As if she had summoned him with her thoughts, she heard Caspar’s deep voice in her ear not even an hour later.

“Meet me at the cove at 7 o’clock.  I have something important to discuss,” he told her, his tone almost too neutral to betray anything of the nature of this meeting, but something about the cadence of it seemed to indicate nervousness or perhaps excitement.

“I’ll be there,” she replied, smiling to herself, though she wasn’t sure why.

~ ~ ~ 

Vrae arrived at the cove at the appointed time and found Caspar standing on a rocky outcropping with his hands behind his back, gazing pensively out at the sea, the long and voluminous tail of his coat blowing dramatically in the wind.  It was a pity he was the artist and not her, for she thought it a sight quite worth committing to canvas.

“I’m here,” she called, and he turned to look at her, his eyes lighting up when they met hers.  With perfect grace, he hopped down from the rocks and strode swiftly across the sand to meet her, taking both of her hands in his own.

“I have so much to tell you.”  He paused for a moment to take a deep breath before continuing.  “Lord Berkhamer knows about us.”  A jolt of fear went through Vrae at this news, and her pale violet eyes went wide.  The last thing they needed was to have a werewolf of the Kargat breathing down their necks.

“How?”  They’d always been careful to keep their relationship a secret.  It was hard to avoid suspicion entirely, but they’d never displayed proof.  What could possibly have tipped Berkhamer off?

“He smelled you on me.  Not just your shop, but you.”  Vrae’s fear mixed with mortification upon hearing this, and she bit back a string of curses.

“We’ve been intimate with each other for years; how is it he’s only just caught the scent?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe it was stronger this time.  Or maybe he heard a rumor and was looking for it.  Either way, I couldn’t deny the evidence of his werewolf senses.”

“What did he say?  Are we in danger?”

“For the moment, he thinks I’m just having a bit of fun with you.  While he was rather vulgar about it and reductive towards you, I’m relieved to say he doesn’t consider my actions transgressive enough to warrant a response.”  Vrae could tell from he subtle curl of Caspar’s lip as he spoke that he was not having an easy time with whatever it was exactly that his commander had said about her, but she’d heard enough to get the picture.  She held his hands against her heart and squeezed his fingers reassuringly.

“Hopefully we can keep it that way.”  Caspar nodded at her words, but did not relax.

“If only that were all I had to tell you.  Unfortunately, my presence has been demanded in Nevuchar Springs and I will be leaving tomorrow,” he informed Vrae solemnly, and she felt as though she’d been punched in the chest.

“Why?  For how long?”  She was left in suspense for several moments as he seemed to struggle with his answer before spitting it out.

“My cousin is debuting in society, and my parents are unwilling to suffer the embarrassment of their sole heir being absent from the event.”  Caspar had never talked about his family before, but this single sentence told Vrae everything she needed to know about why.  “Would you…would you be willing to come with me?” he asked quietly, and she stared back at him in shock.

“Why would you ask that of me?  You know we can’t be seen together.”

“I’ll say I’m your patron and that I brought you to make connections.  It’s not too far from the truth, which makes it all the more believable,” Caspar reasoned.  He moved his hands to gently hold her face in a gesture that was both pleading and reassuring.  “I don’t want you be some shameful secret.  I’m not ashamed to love you.  If there’s a chance we can walk together in the daylight, I want to offer it to you.”

“A secret is a secret, Caspar, however hidden in plain sight it may be, but…if you think this will give us more freedom, then yes.  Of course I’ll go with you.”  Vrae reached up and held his wrists, squeezing them affectionately.  A relieved smile spread across his face, and he caressed her cheeks with his thumbs.

“Thank you.  I know this isn’t going to be easy, and I’m sorry for that.”

“Don’t be.  Our secret aside, I can’t very well have you going off to face your past alone, now can I?”  Caspar’s smile broadened at this, a loving shimmer in his eyes as he gazed down at her.  Slowly and purposefully, he pressed his lips to hers, as if to savour the taste of her, and she leaned into him, letting the rest of the world fall away, if only for a moment.

~ ~ ~

The following afternoon, Vrae met Caspar at the docks, giddy with equal parts anxiety and excitement.  She’d never been beyond Vradlock before, nor had she ever thought she’d be standing with Caspar in broad daylight.  When he offered her his arm and walked with her onto the ship that would take them to Nevuchar, she felt as though a world of possibilities was opening up before her, and she could do anything if she were clever enough about it.  It was a lot to take in.

Caspar’s public persona was another thing she had to adjust to quickly.  Nothing made her realize how soft he’d become around her like being reminded of who he was to the rest of the world.  His mask of unyielding seriousness was so chilly that none of the dock workers or sailors dared to question him.  All trivial matters were deferred to his manservant, a sardonic older drow named Fengril, who had evidently been serving the house of the chamberlain since long before Caspar had occupied it.  Only the ship’s captain had the guts to ask Caspar about Vrae, and he answered with such a brief and blunt explanation of his patronage that the captain chose not to inquire any further.  In fact, none of the sailors even dared to approach her with questions, and she was quite comfortable with that.  The more mysterious a figure she was to them the better, as far as she was concerned.

The journey took only a couple days, and the sea was thankfully quite calm throughout.  Vrae passed much of the time plying her trade in fortune telling with the crew and the other passengers.  In the evenings, she sang and danced for them, and they taught her several new shanties in turn.  Caspar watched her from afar, and though he gave no blatant show of emotion, she knew him well enough to see pride in the way he looked at her, and that was all the support she needed.

They weren’t able to spend much time alone together aboard the ship, but at night, when they were in their separate cabins, they messaged each other with magic, whispering their thoughts about the day and the sweet nothings they couldn’t share around others.  It made the enforced distance easier to bear, especially when Vrae realized she could hear Caspar’s smiles in his voice.

When at last they arrived at the port in Nevuchar, Vrae drank in the sight of it as best she could from beneath the hood of her cloak, as it was a far sunnier day than she was used to.  The city was easily twice the size of Vradlock, which was unsurprising considering it was Darkon’s largest eastern port and the unofficial capital of the Mistlands region, but she still found herself in awe.  The architecture was much like that of her hometown, but it was alive, formed from trees bent into buttressing and weaving shapes.  Winding staircases carved into the hills gave passage from district to district, rising up from the docks and leading to the great tree that marked the Nevuchar Shrine and the famous bathhouses in the caverns beyond.  Each neighbourhood was built around one of the many springs after which the place was named.  Summer flowers in purple and white bloomed along the ivied walls of the streets, filling the air with a unique scent, especially where it mingled with the salty breezes from the sea.  Vrae recognized some of the scenery from Caspar’s sketches, but now that she was seeing them in colour, they were even more beautiful.  Fengril remarked that it was a blessing that the trees provided so much shade, otherwise the city would be far too bright and sweltering on a day like today.  As a fellow drow, Vrae was inclined to agree.

Their carriage took them to one of the highest and most affluent parts of town, where great estates were nested among beautiful gardens.  They stopped at the gate of one where the vine-covered walls of the grounds were particularly high, obscuring much of the house until the gate opened and they were led in.

In the foyer, they were met by two elves whom Vrae knew immediately had to be Caspar’s relations by their dark hair and severe features.  The man had Caspar’s thick eyebrows, and the woman had his deep green eyes, but both of them somehow seemed far colder than he had ever been.  They did not greet him and only stared, as if waiting for him to explain himself.

“Father.  Mother,” he acknowledged stiffly.

“Who is this?” his mother demanded, gesturing primly to Vrae.

“A bard I am sponsoring.  She is here to make connections.”

His mother gave no response to this save for clapping to summon a few servants and direct them to take Vrae to the eastern wing of the house for accommodations.  She soon learned that she was being given a spare servant’s room, and while she couldn’t say she was surprised, it certainly set the tone for all future interactions she would have with Caspar’s family.

Vrae was confined in to the eastern wing until the evening, when she was instructed to dress her best and join the family in the drawing room after their dinner to provide entertainment.  It was here that she met the rest of the Ardens: Caspar’s uncle Isrindel, his aunt Belfine, and his cousin Arsina, the first and last of whom had the trademark eyebrows of their line.  Arsina was of course the young cousin who was to be presented to Baron Redtree and brought into society, and she seemed to delight in the fact that all of this was for her, but it quickly became clear that she resented Caspar for drawing more attention, especially with Vrae’s presence.

Lord and Lady Arden were incredibly strict and obviously had high expectations for their son.  They didn’t consider being the patron of a soothsaying bard to be a good use of his time and money.  He was over 50 now, and that meant he had to start thinking more about his future and less about frivolous playthings like Vrae, which they told him while she was right there, just to ensure that she also knew what they thought of her.  She was used to being treated this way, so she bore it easily, but the more they harangued him and objectified her, the more emotionless he became.  Back in Vradlock, if anyone short of the mayor or Lord Berkhamer had spoken to him like this, he would not have tolerated it, but here with his family, he was retreating into himself.  There were many things Vrae would have liked to have said to comfort him and to shame his family, but she knew better than to open her mouth, so she gave them the entertainment they wanted and allowed herself to be dismissed when they’d had enough.  Afterwards, however, in a small act of defiance, she did not return to her room.  Instead, she explored the house.

It was a beautiful place paneled in dark wood and tastefully decorated with tapestries and paintings.  The halls were lit with floating blue crystals that cast everything in a cold light, and the more Vrae walked around, the more eerie the house seemed.  An odd feeling settled in her gut, and she could sense spirits pressing in on her, crowding her, like frightened children seeking the comfort of a mother.  What were they trying to tell her?  She stopped in a long corridor lined with landscape paintings and pulled a tarokka card.  The Ghost.  She stared at the image on the card of a shriveled and hunched elf draped in chains, carrying a lantern and wading through mist.  Something definitely wasn’t right.  This house held a secret, something that had happened here long ago.  But what was it?  She pulled three more cards.  The Torturer.  The Broken One.  The Executioner.  Horror gripped her and she covered her mouth to stop herself from making any kind of noise.  It was torment and grief that lingered in this house, a miasma that flowed about the space, staining every surface with the echo of the tragic death that created it.

Vrae heard the distant scream of a boy, and she started to move, her feet carrying her urgently she knew not where.  She only understood that she was going where she needed to be, which she soon discovered was the door of a bedroom in the western wing of the house.  It was locked, but that was no obstacle for her.  She plucked a pin from her hair and picked her way inside, but she did not find dusty surfaces and furniture covered in cloths as she had expected.  The room was clean and lit and a very familiar trunk sat at the foot of the bed with an even more familiar black coat lain atop it.  This was Caspar’s room, and he clearly knew something about what had happened here.  Unsure what else to do, she sat down on the plush bed and waited for him to return.

It was well into the night before he arrived, and his eyes went wide when he saw Vrae.  He quickly closed the door and rushed to her, taking her by the shoulders.

“Vrae!  What are you doing here?  Is something wrong?”

“I need to know what happened in this house, Caspar.  It reeks of tragedy and the spirits cling to me in despair, weighing on my heart like stones until I can barely breathe.”  There was a long pause after this as pain filled Caspar’s eyes, and he struggled to bring himself to speak.

“I should have known you would feel it,” he began eventually, hanging his head and sitting down beside her.  “This has never been a happy house, but when I was very young, it was a little better, thanks to my aunt.”

“Belfine?”  Nothing about the woman had struck Vrae as amiable.  She was haughty and seemed to be the source of Arsina’s narcissism.

“No.  I once had another aunt.  My father’s sister by blood.  Her name was Sinaethriel, and she was more a mother to me than my true mother ever was.”  When he said the name, the room grew colder, and Vrae felt the air shift.  She reached out and took his hand, encouraging him to continue.  “She was kind and clever and made the world seem brighter just by being in it.  She taught me to read and write at an early age, played games with me, and showed me how to sneak around to avoid my parents’ wrath.  She was always the first person I went to when I needed someone.  When I was sent off to school, she would write to me every week and occasionally send me small gifts to keep my spirits up, but when I was 13, that changed.  Her letters became sporadic.  She stopped sending gifts.  She wrote strangely, using the Mordentish words for things seemingly at random.  Eventually I realized it was a code.”  Caspar paused here, his thin lips parting and closing several times.  The spirits pressed in on Vrae again and she squeezed his hand.

“What was she saying?” she prompted gently.

“She was…she was telling me that her husband was…hurting her.”  The way he said this suggested that Sinaethriel had been a little more detailed about what was happening to her, but Caspar clearly found it too painful to recount, so Vrae didn’t push.  She got the picture.

“What did you do?”

“I was helpless to do anything.  I was stuck in school across the country in Nartok, and all I could offer my aunt were a few coded words of comfort, promising that if she could hold on until summer, I would return and save her.  When I finally made it home, however, I was only in time to find her body.  It was ruled an accident, but I knew what my uncle had done, so I spent the season gathering evidence of his crime and took it to the constabulary.  Shortly thereafter, my uncle was publicly executed for murder,” Caspar recounted, staring blankly across the room, his voice distant and toneless.  Vrae’s heart broke for him.  She understood what it was like to violently lose a loved one, especially at a young age.  It was no wonder he had turned his life to the pursuit of justice and fallen in with the Kargat.

“What happened after that?”

“My parents blamed me for the damage done to the family’s reputation and my adolescence became a very solitary experience.”  With these words, the air in the room became even colder, and they could see their breath.  The pressure of the spirits was truly suffocating now, and Vrae began to choke.  The sight of this knocked Caspar from his self-imposed numbness straight into fear.  “Vrae!”  He frantically examined her, trying desperately to figure out what was wrong and how to help, but to no avail.  A forceful shiver went up her spine and she gasped as she felt a spirit enter her body.

“Do not blame yourself, my little shadow,” another voice said through Vrae’s mouth, layered with her own.  Caspar froze and stared in shock for a long moment before responding.

“Auntie?”  The word came out small, anxious, and so vulnerable that it hardly sounded like the man Vrae knew at all.  She stopped resisting the spirit now that she knew who it was, and her body relaxed.  Her hand reached out and touched Caspar’s shoulder.

“Yes.”  At this confirmation, uncharacteristic tears welled up in his eyes.

“Auntie, I’m so sorry.  I-”

“You were just a boy.”

“But I-”

“You avenged me,” Sinaethriel insisted, and Vrae’s hands moved to frame Caspar’s face comfortingly.  “I’m so very proud of you,” she added, and his lip quivered, tears finally spilling down his cheeks.

“I miss you.  So much,” he confessed, his voice cracking, and she pulled him into a tight hug.

“I’ve always been here.  I just couldn’t reach you until now.”

“Why have you lingered?  What must I do to bring you peace?”

“I remained to protect you, but I am no longer needed.  All I ask is that you forgive yourself and allow this young woman to guide you from the darkness.”  Caspar hugged her even more tightly in return, and Vrae was vaguely aware that she could feel his tears where her neck met her shoulder.

“I will.  I promise.”

“Then I can rest.”  Sinaethriel drew back from him to look him in the eyes and give him a soft smile.  “Always remember that I love you, my little shadow.”

“I love you too, Auntie,” he answered, still valiantly trying to put on a brave face and failing.  She let out a long sigh of relief that seemed to echo, and the chill air fluttered around them.  Vrae’s eyes rolled back into her head and she went entirely limp.  She nearly slid off the edge of the bed to the floor, but Caspar caught her.  “Vrae!  Vrae!” he whispered urgently.  She was like a ragdoll in his arms for a few alarming moments, and he cradled her against his chest, pleading with her to wake up, until she gasped and returned to consciousness.  “Are you alright?!  Please say something!”

“I’m alright!  I’m alright!” she assured him, breathing heavily.  Warmth returned to the room, though her skin still felt a little cool, like coming in from the outside in winter.  He pulled her further onto the bed and let her lay back while she recovered.

“I’m so sorry.  For all of this.  For dragging you here.  For my sordid family.  For what you’ve just been through,” Caspar told her as he leaned over her and brushed stray hairs out of her face.

“This is the kind of thing I’m meant for, darling.  Your aunt needed me and I was happy to help.”  She reached up and wiped the tears from his cheeks, offering him a calming smile.  He captured her hand in his own and pressed a kiss to her palm, closing his eyes and furrowing his brow.

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Just lie down with me and rest.  Everything else will come in time.”  At this, he seemed to realize how exhausted he was, and he silently lay down beside her, keeping hold of her hand all the while and allowing himself to fall into trance.

~ ~ ~

Vrae returned to her room early in the morning to avoid being caught with Caspar, but they snuck out together just after breakfast to go to the cemetery and pay their respects at Sinaethriel’s grave.  Vrae often helped others confront their grief in her work as a fortune teller, but she had never been present for the other steps before, nor had she ever had to support someone close to her like this.  She found it was role she fell into easily.  After all, she had always enjoyed bringing people comfort and clarity, and this was simply a more personal extension of that.

Caspar understandably had trouble walking away from his aunt’s grave, but Vrae was there to nudge him along when it was time.  Life had to continue, odious though it was to even think of having to spend more time with the rest of the Ardens.

When they returned to the house, Caspar’s demeanor around his relations, particularly his parents, seemed somewhat altered.  He didn’t retreat into himself quite so much, and he spoke more often, usually to deliver politely scathing remarks whenever someone was rude to Vrae.  The Ardens looked down on her as a peasant and judged her for presumably selling her body to their heir, and while being in their presence was entirely unpleasant, it soon became a little entertaining as well with Caspar’s new attitude.  She especially enjoyed watching him use the social rules his mother coveted so much to logic her out of complaining when he dipped into family funds to buy Vrae a new dress for Arsina’s ball.

After all of the troubles with the family, Vrae was almost grateful for the familiarity of a ball, and she went into it feeling a little more confident than she might have otherwise.  Of course, that did not necessarily mean she was able to maintain said confidence.

The event was two nights after their arrival in Nevuchar, and while Arsina was a lot to deal with on a good day, she became a nightmare as they all got ready to head to the baron’s mansion.  She snapped at the slightest inconvenience and blamed practically everyone at one point or another for any perceived imperfections to her presentation or appearance.  Vrae chose to simply ignore her for the most part and focus on her own personal mission.  She was supposed to be trying to make connections, or at least seem to be doing so, but even more important than that was her true purpose: supporting Caspar and making him look good.  He of course had at least part of that equation down from the start.

“There’s my handsome devil,” she greeted when he came to retrieve her that evening.  She eyed his fitted black velvet tailcoat with its clustered leaf designs embroidered along the hems and its crisp silhouette.  He’d outdone himself, and she was going to ogle him as long as he would let her.

“You are looking quite lovely yourself,” he responded after raking his eyes over her in her dark violet gown of the most sumptuous silk to be found in Nevuchar.  She’d never worn anything so expensive before, and she hoped that Caspar’s reaction meant she was doing it justice.  He offered her his arm and she took it, allowing him to guide her to join the rest of his family at the carriages.

When they arrived at the baron’s residence, Vrae marveled at the great numbers of guests.  Evidently every noble in the area and much of the landed gentry turned out for debuts like this, and she hated to think what this was doing to Arsina’s already inflated ego.  The girl’s arrival was naturally met with great pomp and circumstance, and the rest of her relations were to follow her introduction in procession.  Caspar and Vrae queued behind his parents and waited their turn.

“Master Caspar Arden, Chamberlain of Vradlock, and escort,” the steward announced when they stepped forward, and Vrae felt as though someone had taken an icepick to her confidence.  Caspar’s lips moved ever so slightly, as if muttering to himself, and the steward gave a start, adding quickly, “Lady Wispcaller.”  With that, a great many of the eyes that had been looking upon her in judgement changed to looks of curiosity, and she was able to relax a little.  She squeezed Caspar’s arm appreciatively and he guided her forward into the crowd where they watched the presentation ceremony, though she admittedly paid minimal attention.

Afterwards, the dancing began, and Vrae was eager to participate, as it was the one part of events like this that she truly felt she could do flawlessly.  Even more enticing was the fact that she’d never properly danced with Caspar before and this would be their first time.  She soon discovered that he was as graceful and practiced in this as has he was at swordplay, and that made it easy for her to let loose and show off a little.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked and she gave a subtle smirk.

“Very much.”

“I’m glad your fumbled introduction hasn’t dampened your spirits.”  His deadpanned joke elicited a small laugh from her.

“All this pageantry and judgement is a small thing to endure for a dance with you beneath a magic chandelier.”  This flirtation made the corners of Caspar’s lips curve upwards in the first hint of a smile she’d seen on him since they’d left Vradlock.

“Usstan daewl udos gumash alure saph nindol mal’rak,” he replied in Drow, telling her that he wished they could dance like this forever.  She felt his finger brush the bare skin between her shoulderblades, just above the back of her bodice where his hand rested, and a small shiver went up her spine.  It was a remarkably saucy move for him to pull in public like this.  She liked it.

“So do I.”  All good things must end, however, and when the song faded, Vrae found herself quite reluctant to step away from Caspar, though she knew she had to.  Still, she kept up appearances and allowed him to parade her around the room, waiting for someone else to ask her for a dance.  Several curious guests stepped up to fill her card for the rest of the evening, the last of whom proved to be a danger rather than a bore.

His name was Lord Thaenrys Greyvine, and he was an elf of exceedingly ashen complexion with silver hair and crimson eyes.  He was not even a baron, and yet he carried and dressed himself like a duke.  The moment he took her hand, she knew what he was.  His touch was cold, and the Veil was so warped around him that the spirits pressed her with a feeling of torment at his presence.  A brief glimpse of fangs when he spoke confirmed for her that he was indeed a vampire.

“So you’re Arden’s whore.  Bold of him to bring you here,” Greyvine commented in a brutally blunt and immediate show of power over Vrae.  She almost missed a step in the dance at being addressed this way, but she caught herself just in time.

“You presume too much, my lord,” she managed to reply, and he locked eyes with her.

“Do I?”  She felt his will push at her mind, but she steeled herself against him.

“I serve his interests and he serves mine.  Nothing more.”  Greyvine raised an eyebrow at this firm response.

“I‘m aware that you’ve been an asset to the crown for some years now, and that does you credit, but do not forget your place.  Fool’s gold shines, but it’s cheap and it breaks easily.”  With these last few words, he tightened his grip on Vrae’s hand until she winced in pain.  Whatever fear she felt before doubled as she realized who this man really was.  If he knew she was an informant, then he was Kargat, and vampires of the Kargat occupied its highest ranks.  It was very likely that Greyvine was the head of Caspar’s entire cell.

“I know what I am, my lord.  I wish only to serve,” Vrae said, her voice quiet and deferential.  This seemed to satisfy him, much to her relief, and the moment the song ended, she swiftly disappeared into the crowd, eager to get away from him and out of his sight.  There had to be a dark corner somewhere where she could hide.  She weaved between the pale trunks of trees carved to look like stone pillars and dozens of extravagantly dressed guests milling about the edges of the ballroom or the spaces beyond.

Eventually, she found a quiet corridor and stopped to let herself breathe at last.  Everything had seemed manageable right up until that last dance with Lord Greyvine, and now she was struggling to hold down panic.  She reached out to the spirits that lingered around her, beseeching them for direction if not comfort, and she drew a card from her pocket.  The Mercenary.  She had successfully endured this danger and would find her strength again.  She only hoped the effort would be worth it.

When Vrae returned to Caspar as his family was preparing to go home, she didn’t tell him about Lord Greyvine.  He had enough to deal with and he already knew what the Kargat’s stance on their relationship was.  He didn’t need to hear that his highest boss short of the king himself had threatened her so directly.  And besides, she was too bloody tired to get into it.  Tired of this ball.  Tired of the Arden family.  Tired of Nevuchar.  She was ready to be done with the whole wretched place.  She longed for Vradlock and the solace of her secret cove.

To her great relief, they were on a ship the very next day.  Caspar seemed to notice the change in her mood, but he waited until they were back in her shop to address it.

“I’m sorry for how you were treated in Nevuchar.  I thought it would be different, but it seems I no longer have the influence there that I used to,” he said as he helped her make tea.

“The world will always be against us, Caspar.  Even if you were the king’s right hand, I’d be treated the same.  I can walk like you, talk like you, dress like you, but I am not your equal, and I never will be.”  There was an edge in Vrae’s voice as she spoke, and she spooned tea into her pot slightly aggressively.  Caspar stopped and put aside the cups he’d pulled from the shelf, turning to her with a look of sadness.

“Vrae…”

“We’re not supposed to be together, but if we’re going to keep choosing each other anyway, I need you to acknowledge that there’s unavoidable consequences and understand that it’s not your fault.”  There was a long pause after she gave this impassioned statement as they stared at each other, eyes brimming with more emotion than either of them was willing to express.  After several moments that felt like hours, Caspar nodded in acceptance and touched Vrae’s cheek.

“A life of struggle is better than a life without you,” he told her softly.  Part of her had hoped that he would take the out she had given him, just so she didn’t have to hate herself and fight her feelings anymore, but he hadn’t and now that part of her was drowning in the warmth that filled her heart when she looked up at him and saw nothing but overwhelming love.  She could never walk away from this.

[hopefullystillliving]

Tag 10 people you wanna know better

Tagged by @miriel-therindes, thank you!

Relationship status: Single as a pringle and perfectly content. (also alsjdflsj Lyndeth I've proposed to people with ringpops before as a joke)

Favorite colour(s): Blues, teal-greens, purples, gold, silver

Favorite food: Specifically my mom's cucumber sushi. It's to die for.

Song stuck in my head: Don't Stop Believing. I heard it over a store radio and it's been haunting me. I hate it.

Last thing you googled: Ring verse black speech

Time: 8:18 pm

Dream trip: I literally don't know. I want to visit all seven continents (3/7 so far) so maybe get Antarctica out of the way?

Last thing you read: Today's Dracula Daily

Last book you enjoyed reading: In full? Lord of the Flies

Last book you hated reading: Jane Eyre. Not my cup of tea.

Favorite thing to cook/bake: Hmm. Probably devil's food cake or chocolate chip cookies. The former because it's to die for and the latter because they're super easy. I like making lots of stuff though.

Favorite craft to do in your free time: Well if writing counts, that, I do origami sometimes when I'm bored and I've been trying to get into embroidery...

Most niche dislike: Bad history teachers, specifically. More than any other subject to me, a history teacher makes or breaks the class, and even I who loves history will grow to hate it.

Opinion on circuses: I haven't been to one since I was six, and barely remember it. I remember thinking it was pretty cool- the acrobats are definitely a highlight, but I'm glad that less circuses are using animals now.

Do you have any sense of direction? ...A little. A very little. I can figure out NESW via the sun and can sorta recognize how to get to places I'm very familiar with but. Yeah. GPS is a wonderful thing.

Tell us about your D&D character(s): HAHAHAHA!!! INFODUMP TIME!!!

Kaelind Siankiir-Kranuv: Half-elf Bard/Cleric (College of Lore/Life domain), my perfect angel of do no harm take no shit. She's got wanderlust and a tendency to never fit in, made worse by her setting, but she's shockingly well adjusted overall. Her backstory is very jack of all tradesy- her parents traveled for her mother's seasonal dock-work and her father's scholarly odd-jobs, she was involved in both of those and music from a young age, she became a cleric bc her mother was healed by one after a serious accident. She actually isn't a cleric to her primary deity (his domain is mostly music) so her service has some interesting warlock-pact undertones since she is doing it for power, even if that power is intended to help. Which is kinda heresy but unbeknownst to me at the time actually fits her god's backstory really well. Her campaign has been set aside for now in favor of Aret's bc hers is all homebrew while theirs is Waterdeep: Dragon Heist so it'll be easier to get everyone used to each other/the game. She's my pfp!

Aret "Reign" Pyrnomos: Tiefling Sorcerer (Wild Magic) and also an investigative attorney. They came about bc I thought "You know what would be funny? A bunch of demon tiefling lawyers who love order but have super chaotic magic. And like a really big family. I mean really big. The family tree I made has 75 people. The family business (Pyrnomoi & Co. at Law) was started by great-great grandpa who made a pact with his grandmother Fierna for power and prosperity of his descendants so long as the law firm stands, more or less. Aret and their family and the business are all kind of inexorably linked? As a result of prejudice everyone is hyper aware of how what they do affects the family and business, and are very strict in how they act publicly. We have a rogue on the team but Aret literally refuses to aid/abet crime without serious backup plans so that's gonna be interesting! Also they have half-proficiency in animal handling bc of all their little cousins XD

Aster Stardew: "Drow" Oracle Track Druid (1st lvl but he's gonna be Circle of Stars). His name coinciding with my favorite game was unintentional on my part but delightful- I translated it from dndelvish "Holistacia" without realizing lol. Drow is in quotes bc his campaign is in a homebrewed Owl House setting (hence the Oracle Track)! I know very little about the Owl House, so it's gonna be interesting to play! He is best characterized in short as "neurodivergent and a minor", and also "looks like he wants to kill you (edgy), is actually a cinnamon roll". He tries to be edgy (his background is "haunted one" bc it's hilarious but also suits if I play up the edgelord a little) but literally can't stop himself from being nice, to his dismay and his therapist's delight. He's probably read the Boiling Isles version of My Immortal unironically. I just made him a few days ago, so he's still percolating in my mind, but he's babie and I love him.

Tagging: anyone who sees this and wants to. I don't have the brainpower to tag people right now, but rest assured I want to get to know yall better!

[theres-no-protocol-for-this]

The Dreamer

Two original characters, one of whom is a sentient ship and the other a CatUnit.

I found the dreamer by accident.

Inside a transport box in my cargo hold, an inert construct dreamed, and somehow its dreams leaked into the feed. I caught them like wisps of cotton candy and traced them back to their source.

I shielded myself from the dreamer, fearing that my presence in the feed anywhere in the vicinity of the being would disturb its fragile dreaming. The human-bot hybrid inside the box appeared unaware of my existence, connected to the feed only loosely through its autonomous interfaces. It wasn't awake so far as I could tell.

Back then, I knew almost nothing about constructs. The polity where I had been created strictly forbade their use and manufacture, so I had to query the public databases to learn more about them. The information, once I had processed and understood it, made me sick with revulsion and horror.

Constructs were sentient, as alive as any human, and enslaved. Governor modules controlled their words and actions. Inside those transport boxes, they were helpless — completely vulnerable and dependent on humans for continued survival. The practice was disturbing enough that most polities outside the Corporation Rim chose not to create constructs at all. A few had policies that designated them as high-level bots, but most didn’t want to tackle the philosophical ramifications of sentient and sapient machines.

New Tidelands was slowly grappling with these questions because of ships like myself, who were considered sentient in our own right and were, for all practical purposes, artificial minds. I appreciated the sentiment, but I’m a ship and hard to stop on the best of days. I have a debris deflection system that can put most any rail gun to shame.

In comparison, the dreamer in my hold was fragile and easily harmed.

***

I tried an experiment of sorts.

I have all kinds of video and audio of star systems, gathered over the course of dozens of long-range research projects done aboard my hull. I cropped together a brief glimpse of what I had seen and sent it to the dreamer.

Alongside those videos, I added emotional context — wonder, joy, curiosity. The construct’s feed readily accepted my messages, and moments later its dreams became those images and reflected back at me the associated feelings. The security unit’s vital signs improved as if it benefited from the calmer dreams.

I made a decision right then, about how I wanted to handle this situation. For one, now that I knew what a construct was, I felt obligated to help the one in my cargo bay — at minimum.

Using several drones, I moved the transport box from the hold into one of the crew cabins where I could hook it up to my MedSystem. It notified me that the SecUnit’s lungs were exhausted because it was receiving minimal life support — enough to survive, but not comfortably.

I adjusted the settings to human-friendly parameters inside the cabin and used a drone to open the transport box.

Without a command to wake it, the construct remained asleep but now it was breathing more palatable air in a more comfortable environment. It wore no armor that I could see, or much in the way of clothing at all. So I used a drone to slip a pillow under its head and cover it with one of the thick, human-grade blankets that my crew liked.

I also sent a message to Andrew and Martin, the captain of the ship and his second-in-command, letting them know about the dreamer. I wouldn’t see either of them for months, not until I finished this cargo run and returned to New Tidelands, but I wanted to keep them appraised. I didn’t hide things from my family.

I did forge records to indicate that the construct and its transport box were destroyed in a minor fire-related accident in the cargo bay. I knew that would incur insurance-related fees, but the ship’s incidentals account had more than enough currency to cover those costs. That’s why we had the fund in the first place because accidents happened sometimes.

With that out of the way, I looked up the particular details of the SecUnit’s history and got another shock. It had survived to near-human adulthood — a long time by SecUnit standards — and had been a ComfortUnit before that. It had seen a lot of combat in its life and a lot of pain.

I suspected that when this SecUnit woke up, it would need all the trauma treatment we could find.

Before I could wake it up, though, I needed to create a foundation that it could reasonably use. Since I’m sentient, the ship has no need of a HubSystem or a SecSystem — I do all of those roles and much more. But the construct’s governor would not understand me. Both the governor and the construct needed something familiar to connect with.

So while I sent more dreams to my newest guest, I also worked on creating a security system that it would recognize once it woke up. I didn’t want to replicate the designs available via the public databases because they were too restrictive, but they gave me ideas for how to create something comfortable that a SecUnit would still understand.

Meanwhile, the construct began to relax. The added oxygen was helping, as were the changes I made to its resupply fluid. Pleasant emotions bled into the feed just before it entered a non-dreaming sleep phase. I continued monitoring it while working on other projects.

Andrew’s reply came first. Are you all right, Traveler?

Uninjured and still projected to reach my next destination at the scheduled time, I answered readily. Then, I sent him images of the construct as well as its history and current physical state.

I know that you’re smart, Trav, and I trust your judgment about the SecUnit, but please exercise extreme caution. The captain sounded concerned. We’ll try to explore the legal ramifications of stealing corporate property while we await your return.

It’s a person, I said.

I know, Trav. I know. But in the Rim, it’s property and we need to be careful to make sure that we make everything as legally air-tight as possible.

Understood. I gave myself a metaphorical moment to absorb Andrew’s words. I’ll be careful.

Good.

After he signed off, I finished creating the SecSystem and activated it. Once it was integrated with my circuitry to my satisfaction, I figured I was ready to wake the construct and see what there was to see. I stopped thinking of it as a dreamer at some point and began considering it “crew”.

***

The construct woke up with a startled “mew” of a sound and its eyes flickered open. Up close, through the camera lenses of a drone, they were bright, blue eyes filled with confusion and concern. It probably hadn’t expected to awaken anywhere but its intended destination.

“Don’t get up just yet,” I told it even as I felt it connecting to my homebrew SecSystem. “My name is Trav. Short for Traveler, and I’m your client for the moment. Can you run some diagnostics for me? Make sure you’re not experiencing any glitches?”

The construct nodded and sent an acknowledgment to me over the feed. I could feel its hesitation in the feed despite its personal walls, so I added some of my walls around the construct’s mind and then backed off. It needed time to adjust, and I needed a moment to compose myself.

It’s one thing to meet a dreamer and a whole another thing to meet the newest crew member.

I'm not the first of my kind to make friends with a SecUnit. That dubious honor goes to the Perihelion. Nor am I the first to invite a construct on-board, another honor that belongs to braver ships. I've always been content to explore the star-lit darkness between worlds and deliver cargo.

Until I met the SecUnit.

The construct connected readily enough to my makeshift SecSystem and finished its diagnostics. Its cat-like ears twitched with every new sound — most of them my doing as I worked to adjust the life support systems to best match the construct's needs — and its tail swished hesitantly. I understood the uncertainty.

"I am not sure what information is most pertinent," I told it. "But the facts are as follows: you are aboard a starship. I will not be delivering you to your destination. I have temporarily frozen your governor module so that it cannot punish you for what I'm going to say. There are no humans on board, and I do not want a distance limiter to fry your insides."

What do you require?

"I don't require anything. I'm doing this because I want to."

You're a ship bot pilot.

"Yes, to some extent. I'm the entire ship."

[yharnamsnewslug]

I'd love to hear about the visceral music lol

NNNNNGH ANON I LOVE YOU - Okay, okay, so - fuck, I've a bunch, now that I think about it BUT let's goooo.

So in no particular order, and with the lyric specified unless it's the whole fucking song:

1) Liar, by the Arcadian Wild: "I have made you my next victim."

Okay so I'm BIASED on this one because I've been working for WEEKS on an animatic of my Saltmarsh campaign, which I'm DMing, and the barbarian's father is a huge mystery within the game, right? And this is HIS song, this is the man that begins EVERYTHING that has happened within the campaign (it's based on the module but heavily Homebrewed, because I wanted to do a full campaign with the Princes of the Sea). In any case, this is his song and the break of it is INSANE, it really is, it gives me goosebumps but the moment of GUILT as Greyson looks at John and feels this huge wave of sadness as he realizes he has to kill his best friend to save a little boy... GODS.

2) Call Them Brothers, by Regina Spektor: "Everyone's chasing a shot, a shot rings out, nobody wants it. Nobody wants it to stop."

Not just because I'm a younger sibling and my relationship with my sister is fucking bad, but also within the current Spanish political climate, this feels pointed and hard. I listen to it and I'm a bit overcome by the fucking guilt of being part of a system that's intent on splitting the public with political parties (not even ideologies!!! Just parties!!!) instead of helping this fucking country.

3) The Thunder Answered Back by Gabby's World: this entire song but ALSO -

“I SAID HOW'D IT TURN SO BAD?

THEN THE THUNDER ANSWERED BACK

IF YOU KNOW NOT WHAT YOU LACK

THEN YOU MUST UNTURN YOUR BACK

YOUR INSIDE IS OVERCAST

AND YOU ARE TETHERED TO YOUR PAST 

AND IT MUST FEEL LIKE FUCKING HELL

TO BE A PATCHWORK OF YOURSELF.

A BUNCH OF SCRAPS, THROWN AND SOWN AROUND YOUR BONES

AND THOUGH YOU’RE ALONE IT’S HOLDING YOU TOO TIGHTLY”

This song I think it’s my favorite?? Of all time?? And like, okay, to me it’s so stupid to have a favorite song because there are so many and I can never even choose my favorite band, even if I have favorites, but damn this song. It feels so raw and when I discovered it in 2018, it was... good. And it’s become greater and greater and greater since then. A lot has changed. My feelings about this song have changed. The ENTIRE song is good but this part just makes me feel, period.

4) Inside, by Bo Burnham: especifically Content, Problematic, All Eyes On Me and Goodbye

From Content, just the utter absurdity and genius of fucking... “I had anxiety so bad that I had multiple panic attacks on stage, I was a creator that criticized the exploitation of parasocial relationships between artist and public for profit and I said multiple times just how guilty I feel about being someone who was thrust into the spotlight when I was a middle class white kid that shouldn’t have gotten so much attention. It’s slightly depressing but also funny as he raises the flashlight and shines it on the disco ball, “But look, I made you some conteeeent! Daddy made you your favorite, open wide! Here comes the content!” SPOON-FED TO YOU AHHHHHHH HE’S SO GOOD AT MUSIC. I really don’t give a shit that TikTok kids misused his music to do edgy OC content~~ and that subsequently, Tumblr has decided that Bo Burnham is cringe, I think Inside is one of the best things, if not the best thing, to come from 2021.

From Problematic, he voices everything I hate about the current situation regarding Cancel Culture, and how it’s so divissive about whether it works or not, absolutely forgoing the difference in power between “It doesn’t work! Jeffree Starr is still rich and famous!!!!” vs “This artist with just 1k followers on Tumblr was harrassed to such a point that they left the internet, no presence of them is left online anywhere and they were traumatized by it all”. The song is already BANGING, it’s super catchy and the video is incredible, and while I love the part where he’s “crucified” as he’s like “And I’m really fucking sooooorryyyyy”? I think the best is the bridge, “Times are changing and I’m getting old! Are you gonna hold me accountable?” It’s so GOOD to see someone call out how much of the “accountability” side is being processed as something that the public must do. I love it, I love it, are you gonna hold me accountable? Brilliant song.

Everyone and their mother has talked about All Eyes On Me, I don’t think I need to talk about the profit people’s poor mental health makes and how often mentally ill people are exploited or even how they risk themselves in order to monetize absolutely everything. Added to just doomer shit. This song was the one that made me bawl my fucking eyes out, I couldn’t breathe.

Goodbye is good because it’s a well-composed song, but on TOP of that. Fucking - the amalgamation of everything??? It gets me, EVERY TIME, “Oh shit... you’re really joking at a time like this? -WELL, WELL, LOOK WHO’S INSIDE AGAIN -”

This entire special makes me feel a lot, okay? 

5) Dead Boys, by Sam Fender: “The anniversaries are short-lived but they come back around with breakneck speed.”

(TW: self harm, suicide) This song is about young men killing themselves. I’m a man, I’ve struggled with a lot of self harm and suicide. Still to this day, I struggle a lot with it. I’ve been clean of sh for a long time but this summer I had an attempt. It was rough and it was harrowing but I’m still standing, somewhat. This song means a lot, it’s very hard.

6) Lazarus, by David Bowie: “Oh, I’ll be free. Ain’t it just like me?”

David Bowie defined a lot of who I am today. I got into music because I got into Bowie, as a 12 year old. I used to dance in the kitchen with my mom as I began to learn English, with Just Dance. And she’d help me learn English with his songs. Lazarus’ music video was uploaded the 7th of January of 2016, and the 10th of that same month, same year, David Bowie passed away. And because of the mark that he left within me, the love that he instilled onto me, and how much music matters to me now BECAUSE of David Bowie? My name went from Nicolás, simply, to Nicolás Lázaro. It’s a very important song to me.

7) The Wolves Part I, by Bon Iver: the entire song

Ah, another of my favorite artists! I really had to choose one for this little thing I’m making but damn, I could put a thousand songs by Bon Iver in “Songs that Make Me Feel”. He’s an expert at invoking deep, more raw emotions with songs such as iMi, AUATC, For Emma and The Wolves. I don’t really know how to express everything, but there’s the specific part when the drums are beating like fireworks and the guitar is being strummed and Vernon’s falsetto starts with “AHHHHHH-aaaaaah-ahhhhh-ah!” Like, that’s brutal to me. I’ve cried for no reason with his songs before, but this one takes it all.

8) We Drag the Dead on Leashes, by Being As An Ocean: “Forgive the things that you hate in yourself so that you might be grace to someone else.”

Well, this was the first thing I ever got tattooed! It’s on my left arm, right under my elbow, it’s a very important song to me. I listened to a lot of hardcore, currently am getting back into it thanks to my friend, Sam, but man, this song still fucking slaps. There’s a lot of very optimistic songs by these guys, but be warned that they’re very fucking Christian. Luckily, I had a good relationship with the religion I grew up with.

9) The Chain, by Fleetwood Mac: but especifically the guitar solo at the end, and to listen to my favorite version, go to the 1980 Wembley LIVE. That one is just INSANE.

Hmm. I don’t have a good relationship with my sister.

10) Stay Alive by José González: the entire song, not going to lie. Just listen to it whole.

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, the Ben Stiller remake, means a lot to me. May be better or worse than the original, yeah, but fuck, man, the soundtrack is on point. From Step Outside to Space Oddity to Stay Alive. Stiller really knows how to invoke emotion, he’s always been good at it, it’s no surprise. But it still gets me when it’s the morning and I chose to leave my bed instead of staying inside all day. It’s good. It feels good.

AND WELL, I could talk about more songs for ages. But I already wrote a ton so I’ll just put a little list underneath. Everyone who was crazy enough to read all of this is absolutely welcome to add their own little personal essay underneath!! Tell me how songs make you feel!!!

Honorable mentions:

Light of Love by Florence and the Machine, 

Inmaculada Decepción by Zahara,

Gimme Love by Joji, 

A New Kind of Hero by Aiden-Chan,

The Grand Escape by RADWIMPS, 

And the Snakes Start to Sing by Bring Me the Horizon,

I’m Low on Gas and You Need a Jacket by Pierce the Veil,

Asleep by My Chemical Romance, 

The Storm or The Depths by Of Mice & Men, 

Came Out Swinging by the Wonder Years, 

Long Train Running by the Doobie Brothers, 

Cai by La Niña Pastori, 

Niña Voladora by Juanito Makandé, 

Lobo López by Kiko Veneno, 

Hills to Climb by Tim Myers and 

This Year by the Mountain Goats.

[what-big-teeth]

Admire (Male Naga ; Fic Raffle)

And done! @glugenash​ requested a meet-cute between a male reader and a naga of any gender. I decided to go with a male naga and let my imagination take hold to make this wonderful idea even cuter. I hope you all enjoy this fic! Male Reader (POV) x Male Monster If there’s one place you can truly relax while curling up with a good book, it’s the library.

Ever since you moved into town for a better job opportunity, you attempted to combat the new stressors that turned up as a result. Exercise, meditation, doing the bare minimum on the weekends. Nothing could compare to the public library and its innate charm. This is why you’re seated at your favorite table.

Tucked into one of the historical building’s many corners beside a large window, there’s always just enough sunlight to happily bask in and use while reading. These simple reasons—and the woodsy, vanillin scent of the surrounding book collection—are why you’ve decided to revisit an old series. Something about embracing a nostalgic memory at your table alleviates your pent-up stress like nothing else.

Which is why the sensation of being watched feels so foreign.

You’ve attempted to look around as discreetly as possible. But your eyes haven’t encountered anything out of the ordinary. Just the usual, book-lined shelves and wooden lectern holding an old, massive dictionary.

Still, you can’t fully shake the feeling. Your gut has rarely led you astray, which is why you keep glancing around. After a fleeting moment, you think you see a dark shape shrink away behind a nearby shelf. You stand up, intent on finding out who your odd observer is. But an insistent buzzing from your jeans pocket breaks your focus. Knowing that your library hasn’t made the full transition to a ‘loud facility’ yet, you step away from your spot, leaving your book behind to take the call outside.

Unsurprisingly, it’s work. Or rather, your boss. One of your co-workers has taken ill suddenly, and he needs you to fill in for her shift until he recovers. There’ll be extra pay as compensation, which helps to sweeten the deal. But when your boss mentions the project your co-worker has been toiling over for the last few weeks, you silently wince. You honestly would rather not take on the extra work, but the extra money would really help.

Your boss says your name in a questioning manner. Looks like you accidentally zoned out.

“Sure thing,” you say with a forced, cheerful tone. You can already feel the mounting stress that’ll have you on edge. With a final, merry “thanks!” and farewell, the call ends. This new development calls for some extra self-care.

You head back inside the library, making your way over to the built-in cafe. It’s a welcomed new addition, especially since they make some of the best, homebrew tea and pastries you’ve ever had. With your cup of honeyed chamomile and warmed confection in hand, you return to your sunshine laden table.

Your book is in its usual spot, but it’s been closed with a tasseled bookmark keeping track of your place. You didn’t pick up one while greeting Jason at the circulation desk. After mentally marking which page you left off on, you untuck it from between the pages. The design is, well, it’s amazing. Hand drawn swirls of complimentary colors balance each other out while being lined with careful, fine-tipped black lines. And the tassel is uniquely soft to the touch, the threads feeling similar to silk. You’re so drawn to the workmanship of the bookmark that you almost overlook the neatly folded piece of paper on the table.

The Farandale Chronicles is one of my favorite series. If you’d like to read something similar, I’d like to suggest the Crystal of Might series, written by Malkus Morak.  — D

You re-read the note a few times. But no matter how much you attempt to place the neat handwriting, you can’t. There isn’t anything untoward about the suggestion, honestly. And the bookmark is an unexpected, if creative gift. Decision made, you replace the bookmark and head over to the Science Fiction section.

It doesn’t take long to find the suggested book and read the blurb on the jacket’s interior. You can’t deny that it sounds like something right up your alley. Even better, there are three more books in the series.

“Think I will try this out,” you mutter to yourself. “Thanks for the suggestion, D.”

You bundle the new book together with your old favorite, being cautious of your food, and fall in line before the circulation desk. It doesn’t take long for you to reach the front and greet the tawny, curly-haired minotaur behind the counter with a smile.

“How are things going, Jason?” He nods in reply, stalwart as ever as he carefully checks both books for possible damage before checking them out to you.

“Three weeks, as usual,” he murmurs with a deep voice. He gestures to the new book you’ve decided to read. “Should I put the sequel on hold for you?”

“That’d be great!”

After nimbly using the keyboard to complete your request, he hands both books to you with a gentle puff of air.

“Anything else I can help you with?”

Wetting your lips, you tug the handwritten note from between the cover and first page of Morak’s book.

“Would you happen to know whose handwriting this is?”

Jason gently takes the note from you, his warm brown eyes scanning the contents. With a small cough, he hands it back to you.

“Sorry, I don’t. But I’m glad they wrote on a slip of paper instead of damaging the book.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Ever since you met him, Jason’s always been a stickler for the rules when it comes to the library. Quiet yet firm. You pocket the note, being careful to not crease it any further.

“That’s fine,” you say. “It was worth a shot, anyway.”

“Be sure to finish your food while on site,” he says. “The Director is still leery about folks taking off with the cafe’s food.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, smiling. “There’s a bench outside that called to me when I stepped out earlier. Take care.”

As you leave with your new reading materials and food, you can’t stop the thrill of excitement that wells up inside you. Besides being a place of reprieve, you beloved library has provided an interesting mystery as well. And it’s one you intend to solve.

_______________________________________________

Like clockwork, you return the same day next week. Thankfully, your boss was kind enough to give you the weekend off after you took on your duties and that of your sick co-worker. It gives you just enough time to destress at the library. This time, you make a beeline for the cafe, ordering some calming tea and a new, but delectable looking pastry. Jason greets you at the circulation desk and checks out Molak’s second book to you. Once you’ve checked that your usual spot hasn’t been taken, you swiftly lay claim with your purchased items and settle in your seat.

After drinking your tea and eating your pastry, you find yourself feeling better. You open the hardback’s cover, highly interested in seeing what’ll happen to the protagonists next. But two slips of paper flutter out from the book, like before. The material is thicker this time around, similar to reinforced sketchbook paper. Your eyes widen as you realize why.

The subject of the drawing is someone you know too well. It’s you. The sketch depicts a past you sitting where you are now, looking content with a soft smile on your face as you read. Little details jump out as you take in the entirety of the work. The slight dents on the side of the old table you graze your hand over time and time again. The way you hold a book that you find immensely but surprisingly pleasing. The almost starstruck expression lighting up your features as you leave this world for another while reading…

Underneath, in familiar elegant writing, the caption reads ‘Entranced Beauty’. Heat wells up within your cheeks as you read the words over and over again. Your fingertip glides against the lettering as you pick up the other slip of paper from the carpeted floor.

There have been many times I’ve wanted to tell you how wonderful you look when you’re lost in your own world. But I’m afraid that, verbally, words fail me. At least this skill of mine can say more than what I could ever hope. For a while now, I’ve hoped I could be invited to come along with you as another book takes hold of your imagination. But I refuse to think that such lofty hopes can be achieved, considering what I am. I’m merely glad that my suggestion was pleasing to you, and I hope I can continue to provide doors for you to walk through when you need a break from this world.  — D

Your heart pounds loudly inside your chest and head as the heat in your cheeks spread throughout your whole body. All you can think about is discovering who your admirer is and meeting them face to face. After all, someone who can write and such sweet thoughts and draw so beautifully can’t be as bad as they think. With this thought as encouragement, you find Molak’s collection and take the third book of his series from the shelf. You wait in line behind a couple, a gorgon and gargoyle, as Jason helps them with their items. Once they’re taken care of, you step up to the circulation desk and set the book down.

“Find everything you were looking for?” he asks.

You’re tempted to say ‘yes’, but stop short.

“No,” you say. “I...I need your help.”

You show Jason the sketch and note, asking once again if he happens to know anything. After all, the note and sketch had to be put in place before you checked out the second book. And all holds are reserved behind the circulation desk for all patrons.

A strange silence falls between the two of you. It’s broken by Jason coughing into his closed fist as he averts his gaze.

“You do know something, don’t you?” you murmur.Jason glances your way before letting his eyes drop to the computer screen in front of him.

“I get it.” You pause to reign in your voice, surprised at the sudden loudness of it. “I understand you’re trying to protect D, especially because they feel like they can’t face me. But you know me, Jason. I won’t hurt them. I just want to meet them and tell them my appreciation.”

Once more, you bring out the sketch and place it on the circulation desk before you. “Please, help me.”

Jason’s gaze finds the sketch and settles on it. He finally lets out a soft huff of air then rubs the back of his neck with his hand.

“I didn’t realize how deeply D fell for you,” he says. “I thought it was just a crush. Alright. I’ll help you out. Not only do you deserve a happy ending, but so does D. Just...be gentle with him, alright? He’s been through a lot.”

“I will,” you say, letting your words carry your promise. “Thank you, Jason.”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” he mutters. “Gonna have to see how this goes, first. Alright, D always comes like clockwork on Wednesday evenings...”

You take Jason at his word and return to the library at the time and day he suggested. Sure, it involved rearranging your work schedule somewhat, but your now-well co-worker was more than happy to return the favor you showed her. Probably helps that she’s somewhat of a romantic and readily agreed after you explained the situation to her.With careful steps, you make your way towards your usual spot. The last few rays of the setting sun fall onto the table and the naga sitting at it.

The quiet breath you’re taking in stalls at the sight.

With rich, golden brown skin, you can’t help but wonder why D would think himself unattractive. More so thanks to his jet black hair, which is pulled back into a bun, and his matching scales. Even the slight creme of his underbelly, which you can barely make out due to his button-down shirt, is charming. Remembering Jason’s advice, you carefully approach the table as he remains lost in a book held in his clawed hands. It’s the third book in Molak’s fantasy series. You can’t help but smile at the realization.

“Excuse me,” you say.

D startles, tensing at your soft voice. His pupils dilate somewhat in reply as he looks at you. With him looking head on at you, you notice the scaled skin on the sides of his neck. A hood, like that of a cobra. He looks close to bolting right then and there, but you gently press on.

“By chance, are you D?”

D gulps down a few breaths of air.

“N-no, I’m…”

Your body intuitively moves, laying a gentle hand on his upper arm in what you hope is a soothing gesture.

“I want the same thing,” you say. “I want to let you into my world so that we can make one of our own. Together.”

The scaled hood at his neck flares somewhat, but you don’t feel any fear. If anything, you’re entranced. How can such a charming, handsome naga think he’s anything less? After a few tense moments, D finally relaxes then nods.

“I...I am D.”

He meets your gaze, and you almost feel yourself fall into the molten gold of his eyes.

“I didn’t want you to know because not too many people want anything to do with me. My lineage is from a King Cobra clan, which makes me venomous. And that tends to make others uncomfortable. I-I didn’t want you to feel the same, but I couldn’t hide how I felt about you after I first saw you a few months ago. Jason thought...he suggested I could let you know anonymously and I agreed. I thought that would be best. I’m just surprised you’d want to seek me out.”

You can’t help but smile while gently gripping D’s upper arm.

“You left me with an amazing mystery to solve. And as much as you want to know me, I found myself wanting to know the person behind the ‘D’ moniker. I still do, if that’s alright with you.”

D gives you a soft smile in return, which reveals a hint of his sharp fangs. They’re rather cute, just like the rest of him. He stands up and extends a hand towards you.

“Then, let me officially introduce myself. I’m Danilo.”

You take his hand and shake it while giving him your name. When he attempts to pull his hand away, you gently squeeze it. Danilo’s breath catches as you maneuver your fingers so they twine with his.

“B-by chance,” he nearly squeaks out, “do you like Filipino food? I know a place that serves dishes similar to what I grew up with back home.”

“I haven’t had it before,” you say, “but I’m excited to try it out. I hope you don’t mind acting as my culinary tour guide.”

Danilo gives you another soft smile as he huffs out a laugh.

“Not at all.”

You both head towards the circulation desk, where you see Jason positively beaming at the two of you. As Danilo tells you about his work as a graphic designer and animator, you find yourself hanging on his every word. As he hands Jason the third and final book of the trilogy, you smile.

You can’t wait to see what else you both have in common.

[nautiscarader]

Pokémon Sword and Shield, Dexit, and why something good may be sometimes bad.

For the last month or so I have played SwSh extensively, finally being able to play it in a decent way. In mid-april yuzu, a phenomenal Switch emulator finally  fixed the Sword/Shield softlock issue, (ironically with a single line of code, without which the title would be playable on day 1-ish), and then at the start of May a multi-core support was added, which gave on my machine stable 30 fps.

And having played the game extensively, I can say this... it’s a pretty good game! And that is a bit unfortunate. I was gonna write a review, but I have to first gather my thoughts about the most controversial part of these games, so it doesn’t clutter it too much.    

It is impossible to talk about SwSh without addressing its biggest controversy: limited Pokédex, called by fans “Dexit”, which never happened in the main line of games before. When it was announced, we raged, and some people mocked us, calling us “entitled”, for feeling we deserve something we deserve. Again, there were actual people out there thinking you are not entitled to something you own.... yeah.  

Here is, once again, why those counter-arguments were bullshit. Or maybe bullshite, since it’s British.

Pokémon is a franchise for kids. Yes, we may be old pricks, caring about IVs and EVs, but these are games for children. As a very sporadic gamer, I have been observing the gaming industry from distance with rising worries, as it has been slowly poisoned by corporate greed for at least a decade and a half if not longer: microtransactions, bullshit cut-content DLCs, broken early access, draconic DRMs, etc.

Most of the above problems can be consolidated into two issues: whether you own the game and its content you’ve paid for, and whether you need to pay a second time for something that is already yours. 

And the collective rage of Pokémon fans was born from the simple fact that this trend has finally reached one of the most popular children franchises ever, and it is dangerous. 

Sword and Shield was not the first case of it, though; Pokébank forced you to pay ransom to transfer your Pokémon from your game into another of your games. But, at the very least it was also a Battle Point mine, so I begrudgingly gave it a pass. 

And then the news hit that Switch will follow Microsoft’s and Sony’s asinine model of online play, forcing you to pay for the privilege of connecting to the internet you are already paying for. 

And I can already hear people saying “Oh, bUt iT’s OnLy X pEr mOntT!”. yeah, but that X > 0. The notion that you HAVE to pay for something you already had is a dangerous one, and the fact that it now exists in a family console that is Switch is blood-boiling. And if you still think you need to pay to maintain servers and whatnot: make the game more expensive. But you will have to pay for it once.

And then, in the Pokémon E3 demo, we got the disastrous information that not all Pokémon will be available in the game (and what’s worse, that it was already planned but dropped in gen 7). Pokemon Home would be a Bank 2.0, and will point-blank refuse to transfer non-Galar Pokémon up, holding them hostage indefinitely. This was strike 2, a metal-gear-like alarm if I have ever heard one. 

The Pokémon we have trained, even if they are just strings of data, ethically belong to us. The fact that some of them would be treated as worse was disgusting. And again, I can already hear “Hurr, durr, the updates add more of them and are free!”. But again, it’s the idea that is dangerous. The idea that to suddenly lose, temporarily or not, something that was yours is now normalised. Can you see the problem? 

And as for the updates that will coincide with the DLC coming in around 24h - who knows if they were going to be free? You can try to gamefreaksplain to me all you want, but we do not know if it wasn’t our rage that pushed that decision forward. 

And besides, the updates only prove dexit was a BS move to begin with - the games could have handled more Pokémon, animations, moves, etc., so that was a lie designed to lure you into the DLCs.

Oh, and speaking of DLCs themselves - again, it’s impossible to say for sure if they really made it in the two months since release (trailers for DLCs dropped in January), or if it was a case of cut content... 

Oh, who am I kidding, it IS cut content, plain and simple. Again, it’s the concept of selling you one thing in pieces, slowly seeping into children’s mind that is the problem here.

Because Sword and Shield is a fun, cool, addicting game, and sadly it will lure many people into buying it, giving in to the cancer that destroys the gaming industry. I feel the pain of gamers, even though as I said, I only play occasionally.   

And... paradoxically the solution to all of the above problems is given in every Pokémon game ever by the first NPC you meet:

Because it is technology, a fan-made, counter-culture one that allows me to play it the way I want. 

Pokebank? I stopped paying for it the moment I installed Homebrew on my 3Ds, which allowed me to backup and edits saves and transfer pokémon for free, as I should have been able to. If I had Switch, I’d install it there in a heart-beat there. But I don’t have to own it, since as I said, yuzu got me covered. As for the cut Pokémon, modders have already fixed that, since, spoilers, animations from 3ds games can be utilised on Switch, which says a lot of about them (though those mods will be obsolete with the patches, thank Arceus). But I still use BSoD’s texture pack which fixes incredibly low-res ones of the vanilla game (those trees still give me nightmares).  

And it is thanks to fans that this game, and many others have been changed or fixed, and are better, whether the companies that created them wanted it, or not. 

And you know - that is incredible. 

[flaine1996]

Reassignment

Sooo lol! Update on project timeline: slow but progressing 

to the point I have actually written a bit of a story that will be most likely implemented in the timeline with small photoesque pictures on it xD so here goes more under the cut :)

–June of 2183–

Shepard had found herself in an alliance outpost in one of the colonies inside the Attican Traverse. She hated it.

Not that there were places she liked but more so, it felt way too close to home. Causing her hands to clench and unclench repeatedly. She would never admit to being nervous but the feeling of being in rough terrain without a full set of armor and a full arsenal of weaponry made her feel naked and exposed just like before. Her blood boiled as the air around her started to shimmer a comforting soft blue hue.

She took a deep breath. Fortunately enough though for the colony she landed in, it became apparent that the Alliance had not spared an expense in making sure they were fully equipped for any sort of attack or raid by any species. And by any Shepard truly meant the batarians. No one wanted a repeat of Mindoir. No one. She’d make sure of that.

The colony had a firm presence of Alliance soldiers patrolling the areas of the colony in the latest M35 Mako and small bunks of alliance outpost itself lining the outer edges of the colony making sure that any entry or exit would be checked thoroughly and carefully by the Alliance Soldiers. In the center of the town itself was the central hub of alliance personnel. Considering how this was the latest expansion of the Alliance to the Attican Traverse they would do anything to protect it. If only they’d do the same for the rest. But considering Shepard’s status in the Alliance her words amount to the dirt on a soldier’s boot. Not that she ever shared her thoughts. Not that anything mattered to her regarding Alliance affairs.

She took another swig of colonial homebrewed beer. The one benefit of these outposts was that the colony felt safe enough to focus on their own development. Small houses to big buildings lined the area that was not occupied by the Alliance. The effects of it were noticeable from agriculture to infrastructure. Considering how much time would’ve been spent on security now that the Alliance was here people could focus on the important things. Like alcohol. One good thing then.

Shepard knew she had to meet her contact in the central hub of the alliance but honest to god seeing the faces of any Alliance high ranking officials may as well end up with a blood bath. Especially the fact that none of them were ever able to hide the disdain they had for her. Even the Alliance Soldiers would not stop there constant whispering in her presence. Dumb fucks don’t know how to shut up. She’d do them all a favor and sew their mouth shut but apparently System Alliance Regulations do not condone such acts to civilians nor peers. Hypocrites. Which is why she sent her location to the private line given to her by her contact.

Shepard closed her eyes and forced herself to focus on her breathing. The silence of the makeshift pub was comforting if not foreboding. She had taken a seat in the far end closed off to the other patrons. Though patrons is a too generous of a word, after all she was the only one here. That didn’t stop her from drinking though. Though the only sensation she felt was of the metallic floor underneath her which was in an odd sense grounding as if the metal had swallowed her boots and refused to let her float away to the unknown darkness above them. She felt the ends of her mouth twitch, the alcohol must truly be getting to her. As she turned her head to the side she noticed she was on the eleventh bottle by now. “Where in hell was her goddamn contact”, she thought to herself bitterly.

Though it did give her time to appreciate more of the décor of the place with the lights dim enough not to be disturbing and small windows at the side filtering the rays of the sun from getting inside considering it was 8 in the goddamn morning. The owner or atleast bartender was standing in his makeshift bar with a metallic table to isolate himself from his customers and a full closet behind him stacked with common labels to their special homebrewed beer that apparently they had yet to name. Work in progress, he said. She was never the type to refuse a drink. Though in this case a particular strong one with a hint of herbs? One in particular was one her mother often used mugwort was the name. The rest she couldn’t even name, deciding then to might as well talk to the barkeep about the ingredients so as to not go directly to the alliance central hub, find her contact and kick their ass from here and then back to the earth.

She opened her mouth from her seat when a familiar rough but comfortably warm voice rang out, “It’s good to see you enjoying yourself.”

Shepard could not have shot to her feet quicker and her spine straightened as her right hand was raised near her forehead, “Good morning, Captain Anderson, Sir!”

Anderson hadn’t changed a bit his hair still shaved  and cropped closely to his head, his stature still fit and combat ready as ever, and his expression still weary and guarded but she can see a small smirk playing at his lips and his eyes exuding warmth from its natural brown color though a few more extra lines could be seen underneath them.

“At ease, soldier,” he replied without missing a beat and his lips still holding on to that smirk, “Though I seem to recall that soldiers usually raise their right hand rather than their left.”

Shepard had to do a double take to see whether Anderson was lying when she heard a soft chuckle from him, “I also remember you being more guarded than to fall for these kinds of tricks.”

Shepard rolled her eyes as she dropped her stance immediately, “If you have time to joke around then I suppose this isn’t as serious as I thought. You wouldn’t have been using another name to call me here unless…”

Shepard’s eyes turned to slits as her stance changed into one of a prey trapped to the wall. Anderson knew it well especially when he would bring up a conversation, she wanted no part of.

This time it was Anderson’s turn to straighten his spine, after all dealing with Shepard required him to use his full authority and to strong arm especially when she was ready to bolt. “Take a seat. We have a lot to discuss.”

“To hell with that, I am not ha—”

“Ezner Mason Shepard, Take. A. Seat.”

Shepard shut her mouth hard that the grinding of her teeth could be heard but she did as she was told and sat down. 

Anderson couldn’t help feeling a bit proud of the little victory as his smirk grew a bit wider even as Shepard sat there foot tapping at the metal floor quite harshly, he continued as he sat down and leaned in with a much softer tone to hopefully coax her to being more honest to him and to herself, “This is a great opportunity for you, Ezner. I really cannot understand why you are adamant to not be transferred to the frigate.” the last words were spoken a bit more quietly in case there were ears on the walls, “If this is about what happened in—”

Shepard did not hesitate as she stared Anderson down, “Then there is nothing further to discuss, Captain.” Despite her cold harsh words she still hadn’t moved from her seat.

Anderson then sat straighter deflated but not defeated, “Shepard I will not stand by and watch you ruin your own career by your own sheer stubbornness. The Alliance are already trying to make an official case against you to have you dishonorably discharged. Fortunately all they have is your misconducts not enough to build a case on.” Shepard barely budged from her chair as her posture slackened and her expression remained absolutely neutral, “Let me guess you also vouched for my attitude but the higher ups don’t give a shit for grunts like me and the only reasons the council wont let me go,” a disruption could be felt in the air as a blue hue engulfed the beer bottle lifting it precisely to Shephard’s lips, “Let me guess it was Hackett again? This what i get for fucking his grandau–”

“Shepard.” Anderson’s voice was devoid of its usual warmth that it even made Shepard noticeably sit straighter to the trained eye, “I know you have disagreements with Admiral Hackett but show him the respect he deserves. He helped you on torfan.”

“More like tossed me out of the Alliance as fast as he can,” Shepard muttered.

“Wasn’t that by your request? And then what did you proceed to do? Piss off all your commanding officers to the point you’ve been sent from one ship to the next.” Anderson replied as a matter-of-factly, “And yet here I am, willing to offer you the best second chance you can ever get and you still deny it. What will it take, Shepard, to get you on my ship?”

“Wait… Your ship? Last I heard…”

“Things have changed back in the Alliance. They gave me the ship and allowed me to hand pick my crew personally.”

“No wonder you’ve been hounding me more incessantly. Using another name too, not bad. Wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t for him.”

“Javier knows I borrowed his contact. Only way to get you to meet me face to face.”

“He has information on Balak. That’s more important than any damn ship,” Shepard said her face contorting with anger as her hands grip the edge of her metallic chair creating a dent.

“Not just a ship, Ezner, The ship. The best that the alliance will ever have. And I want you onboard,” Anderson’s voice was filled with conviction once more and a fire burning bright.

Only to be snuffed out by Shepards words, “No. I am content with where I am.”

Anderson leaned back and examined Shepard carefully. Her rusty orange hair cut short to the base of her neck, her scar on top of her right eye spanning down onto her left cheek much less pronounced than five years ago, and her built was still as muscular as you would expect a vanguard soldier to be. She was still in better shape than before and her expression still was as cold as stone but the fire alight in those grey eyes was still there ever since he first found her under the rubble in mindoir.

“I see but that does beg the question where is your team now,” Anderson asked as he searched the perimeter for any that looked like an official alliance soldier and found none - aside from a wandering local whose face had met the table after three local drinks in - “As far as I can tell there aren’t any here unless you soldiers have been recruiting civilians in and per regulations i will have to suspend your operations. Making you as they say legally free.”

 “Funny, but no we don’t do that. Ever,” if looks could kill Shepards stare would incinerate a man, “There… Somewhere.”

“In this colony?”

“…..”

“In this planet?”

“Not exactly,” Shepard replied slightly adjusting from her seat trying to hide any body language that could give her away. 

“There not here are they,” Anderson quickly caught on. The fact that Shepard was no longer looking him straight in the eye means she had done something. Quite possibly illegal.

“I left them on Anhur. One of Balaks men was stationed there apparently were gonna be getting more information,” Shepard admitted, knowing for a fact if she didn’t answer him now he’d find a way to get the information and it would be more of a pain in the ass having the team of soldiers she was with believing she was being favored by the amazing wonderful Captain Anderson.

“And you left all of that to come to me? I’m touched,” Anderson replied with a soft smile despite the sarcasm in his words, “Im guessing they do not know you are here?”

“Says the man using a fake name,” She replied brutally honest but a small smile played on her lips as she looked at him, “And no, they don’t.”

“And how did you get here,” Anderson was curious now afterall she had illegally come here of her own free will for the information how did she plan to go back?

“I may have procured a shuttle and a pilot.” Shepard replied cleaning what looked to be dirt on the table.

“Procured,” Anderson suspiciously asked as he raised his eyebrow that hadn’t sounded like shepard at all.

She looked him straight in the eye then, “Fine, I threatened him that id take off his legs and beat him to death with it if he didn’t take me to and from the area I needed to go. And yes, he resisted and yes i broke his toes just 4 of them in one foot. Okay, five one in the other as a warning. Happy?”

Anderson shook his head, “Violence Ezner does not always work out the way you want it too, even if you think it leads to the results you want.”

Shepard let out a huff but said nothing, letting the silence fill the air.

Her shoulders slumped, “Look Anderson, I get what your trying but I really am fine where I am. I don’t need your handouts. I’m doing much better on the frontlines than I am stationed at some decorative ship.”

“It’s not decorative, Shepard. It’s a state of the line frigate war ship co-created by the Tu–”

“Save your lines for the media. I know what it is, You’ve been sending me those damn reports how could I not have known it by now.”

“Then do you know you’ll be working for me as my Executive Officer, You will be on the field when I can’t and lead the crew and advise me when necessary” Anderson said with pride in his tone, “Alongside with the best damn crew you will ever get to know.”

There was a long pause as Shepard stared directly at Anderson’s eyes. This was always Shepards habit everytime she weighed judgement she would always stare down someone’s eyes. Anderson was sure that this time Shepard had finally seen what he could see. Her greatness.

“No,” Shepard replied resolutely as she stood up.

Anderson then heaved a long sigh, “Whatever you think your punishment or redemption or whatever you think your out there looking for, I really hope you find it soon, Shepard. Before it eats you whole.”

Shepard only gave him a glance before leaving the makeshift bar. Shepard breathed the fresh air of the colonial planet looking at it with one more glance and strengthening her resolve as she thinks to herself, “Because she would no longer drag anyone down to the depths of hell she would create and she would keep everyone safe, no matter the cost.”

Anderson sat there for a few minutes both tired and frankly disappointed. He already knew how this talk would go considering her determined and constant disapproval of transferring anywhere near his command. She had completely closed off after torfan much less when the Alliance not only denounced her and shipped her off - per her request- out into the traverse right after finishing her N7 training. The Alliance wanted to wash their hands clean off of her and yet Anderson wouldn’t let them. Shepard was the only soldier he met that could stand their ground against anything and anyone. More than that, the would survive and thrive in any conditions. The perfect soldier just needed a guiding hand and he was more than willing to reach out no matter what it takes. He stood up and walked briskly back to the ship that had brought him here and as he reached his quarters he opened his omnitool to contact the one man who could help him get her under his command and to greater heights. 

Anderson then recorded a voicemail to a private line, “Spectre Nihlus, You may not remember me but we have met during the council meeting of allowing a human spectre into the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. I am Captain David Anderson of the System Alliance Military. I have handpicked personally a potential recruit and would like your affirmation. Attached to this file will be personal data, biography, and achievements they have done. Hoping to hear from you soon. Captain Anderson out.” 

[magistralucis]

Rammstein @ Stadium MK, 06 July 2019 [Review]

Just over a week ago, I saw one of the greatest shows in my life.

I dedicate lengthy reviews to most concerts I’ve been to. R+ most definitely merit one, and I like to think this one turned out very nice and long, with plenty of images in between. Nevertheless, I omitted a lot more details this time than I usually do, because:

My pre-show adventures were abnormally long (12+ hours wait).

I made irl queue buddies whose identities aren’t up to me to release.

I’ve talked to people who plan to attend future tour dates and do not want to be spoiled on what R+ has planned. I usually put my reviews below a cut to prevent spoilers, but it doesn’t work on mobile as well.

So, a compromise: I commented on every song on the setlist, but I kept to general comments for new content. There are things R+ brought out this year that you really need to see with your own eyes. But I can’t completely refuse to talk about new things, otherwise that’s only half a review. Those who are wary of all spoilers, please, read at your own risk.

Read on for more. Mobile users, be warned this is a very long post.

----------------------------

The Journey (+ Queue Adventures)

This show wasn’t in London. You won’t read about London commutes or opinions about the London Underground in this section for once. Too bad the journey to Milton Keynes fucking sucked. It wasn’t commuting back and forth between Rammstein and my hotel that was the problem. In fact, going back home from Milton Keynes was very simple. But getting there? My God. Only a few things went pear-shaped, and I have nobody but myself to blame for the things that went wrong, but I was not prepared for the discrepancy between MK and the areas surrounding it. Future me, book your hotels and transport in Central Milton Keynes next time.

I will never put myself in the mercy of so many taxis in my life again. Well, I mean, two. Still two too many.

A quick note about Milton Keynes for non-UK residents. It’s probably the most organized city in this country. Milton Keynes is modern and grid-planned, unlike most other cities here which have grown organically and have alleys and hills and cobblestones all over the place. All the roads in MK are in straight lines or clear roundabouts, buildings/facilities are in logical places, and it’s widely considered to be a very easy place to navigate. It’d have been nice to experience literally any of that during most of my journey, because dumbass booked a hotel in the villages around Milton Keynes rather than the city itself. The villages are serene and calming, but they absofuckinglutely do not adhere to any such thing as a grid plan and getting around them was difficult. This was not helped by the fact that the very first leg of the journey, Brighton to London, was delayed for an hour due to an accident on the motorway. I missed the connection to Milton Keynes as a result.

Fuckign.

That was one inconvenience which was not in any way my fault whatsoever, and I’m still bitter that it nearly ruined my entire journey. At least trains between London to Milton Keynes are very common, and it’s only half an hour. So ultimately, after an extra fifteen quid, I arrived right on time. Commuting to the hotel was much harder, because it was a very hot day, and the trains to these villages come by more infrequently. But at least they were there, I hadn’t packed a very heavy load, and when I finally reached the hotel I was given a cottage room all to myself which was cool and comfortably out of the way. There was a huge bathtub. Some nice free toiletries. Complimentary brandy. Oh, hotel, why couldn’t you have been a little closer to the city centre?

But, whatever. I got there. I took the Ls I deserved, and I didn’t pay too high a price for the one I didn’t deserve. I’d brought more than enough money to cover it, because I’d known I would need to shell out extra for transport on the day of the concert. That thought process is universal among concertgoers; I think I handled that as well I could have. I ate dinner, packed a bag, and fell asleep.

That was Friday. Saturday the 6th I will cover in bullet points, from waking up to front row, because most of my Saturday consisted of nothing but waiting for Rammstein. I’m usually more detailed about my preshow life, but there’s a line between an entertaining diary entry and making people slog through fifteen hours of Rammstein-not-happening. Let’s go.

4am. Up nice and early. I force down breakfast. I have a small bag packed with necessities, and a plastic bag intended to be disposed of at the concert: the latter contains energy bars, satsumas (for hydration), some dried salami, and two bottles of water. That is all I’m going to be eating for the rest of the day.

5:45am. Taxi to Stadium MK. It costs exactly a tenner. I decide that when I’m heading back from the concert, I’m willing to pay up to double this amount. A higher price surge will mean I’ll have to wait.

6am. Queuing adventures begin. There are already four people ahead of me; the people at the very front have been waiting since 3am. I’m at Gate 5, closest to front row out of all the other available gates in the stadium. There are three queue lines already formed with metal barriers, separated by standing, seats, and accessible/disabled, but there is a taller barricade in front of it which prevents us from going in there. We are too early even for that.

Stadium doors open at five, R+ comes on at eight. This is going to be a ridiculous haul.

7am. Up to ten people in the queue. The first six of us in the queue begin talking. These people are the aforementioned queue buddies who will subsequently keep my place in line during bathroom breaks, give me much concert wisdom, and preserve our places for front row. The human capacity to spontaneously begin caring for one another at concerts is what I like best about concert culture, especially metalhead culture. Ain’t no other home I’ve found like with fellow metalheads.

9:30am. I am really tired. The people right behind me have homebrewed a sunshade out of plastic picnic mats across the barriers. Half of us are collapsed on the asphalt, sleeping.

10:13am. Bathroom break. Me and one other girl leave the queue to the 24h McDonalds to make use of theirs. I will revisit this McDonalds roughly 14 hours from now, this time to contribute actual business.

12pm. People in queue are significantly more alert because security guys have started milling around. The barricades for the main queue lines will be removed around 3pm.

1:30pm. One last bathroom break. We visit the nearby Asda, because it’s becoming evident the area is flooded with R+ fans and the restaurants are demanding they engage with actual business before using their bathrooms. Asda has no such issue.

3pm. Barricades finally open and I make it to the front of the line once more. We’re allowed a single 500ml bottle of water with us but then they FUCKING HIT US AGAIN WITH THE NO BOTTLE CAP BULLSHIT. Seriously it’s more of a hazard to have open bottles spilling water everywhere for the love of God just let us keep our bottle caps. I discard my original cap, but what I didn’t tell security was that I had a sports cap from a separate bottle from earlier hidden in the depths of my jacket. Once I’m in, I just screw that on, and I am fine and dandy.

5PM FUCKING DOORS ARE OPEN GO GO GO-

-STAIRS? S T A   IR S??? AIN’T NOBODY FUCKING TELL ME ABOUT STAIRS ? 1!?@?3@?@/2?3?#

After a wild scramble I score front row nonetheless. Last time I was front row for Rammstein, I was in front of Richard; this time I choose Paul’s side.

Around 6pm it begins to rain. In the stadium.

6:30pm. I am really cold. I am shivering despite the thousands of people rubbing shoulders beside and all around me, and it’s still 1hrs 30mins until R+ show up. They cannot come on fast enough. I have never wanted so much to be toasted like a marshmallow.

7pm. The opener comes on - Jatekok, a classical pianist duo who covered most of Sehnsucht over a half-hour period. They are all the way over at the B-stage however, and while I can hear them, being a short woman at front row essentially means I forfeit anything that happens on the B-stage. It’s too far back, and there are too many people between me and the stage for me to see anything.

Rammstein came on at 8pm to a multi-language announcement asking the audience not to film the performance. The abundance of full-length videos on youtube depicting exactly that is proof that this request was not kept, but I digress. I’m assuming most people reading this review are Rammstein fans, or or know how each song’s ‘performance’ goes, so a minute-by-minute play will be unnecessary. My comments are general, but hopefully insightful.

----------------------------

01. Was ich liebe (Rammstein)

Check this shit out!

This screen will continue to be relevant throughout the concert. Half the time it’s displaying the logo, and half the time... well, you’ll have to see 😂 R+ have opted for a relatively calm start in this tour. The bandmates appear one by one to the intro, lingering at the front of the stage (save for Schneider) until Till appears.

All the bandmates’ outfits. So far a theme is uncertain. Or maybe it’s just that Flake is the odd one out. He sparkles most golden throughout the entire concert. He still has the treadmill arrangement going. If anything he’s gotten more stage-confident and hilarious since the last time I saw him.

Till’s outfit goes hot and serious and heavy. He will only keep the coat on for ‘Was ich liebe’, which is perfectly reasonable; it’s stopped raining by this time and the venue is warm-ish, though clouded. As for ‘Was ich liebe’ as a song, I’m fond of it. I am, however, surprised to see that it’s the opener. This is not a complaint: in retrospect, R+ paced out the songs from their recent album very cleverly throughout the concert, alternating between their older hits and building up to the major climaxes in the middle (songs 7-14). It was just a bit of a surprise at the time.

I see the most of this cheerful lil’ bastard through the show. Paul will feature heavily in my images of this night.

02. Links 2-3-4 (Mutter)

Storytime. Kinda. I had never watched the music video of ‘Links 2-3-4′ until the day of this concert. I’ve always known one existed, I just didn’t watch it because it’s full of ants and insects are my number one phobia. I haven’t willingly sought out things with insects in it for years, and I wasn’t going to start any time soon. This self-imposed ban on watching the video was broken in Stadium MK because while we were waiting, they were marathoning every single R+ music video on a large screen off to the side of the stage. I watched the whole thing then because I might as well; what the hell else was I gonna do, leave the front row?

It was actually a pretty good video once I got past the CGI bugs ick factor of it. This has nothing to do with the actual live version of the song. Why the hell have I written so much about this? Till removes his heavy coat almost as soon as the song begins. Paul starts properly fucking around with his mic. I’m seeing the virtues of being on Paul’s side very early on, and I finally get what people mean by having ‘met Paul’s eyes’ during the concert. It’s not that he’s focused on the one person, at least not as far as he outwardly presents himself, but he does seem to have a specific zone in which he regards the audience. He takes time to meet eyes with various people, smile, and acknowledge particular situations.

03. Tattoo (Rammstein)

Till is now dressed suitably for the Tillhammer to come out in full force. I’m not huge on ‘Tattoo’ as a song, but this is where Till really starts to gravitate towards either side of the stage, rather than at dead center. After shenanigans with Paul, as seen above, he comes over to Paul’s side (where I am) and stays for the first verse and the first ‘zeig mir deins, ich zeig' mir deins’ chorus.

I like to think we make eye contact, but there are thousands of people behind me and he’s not an eye contact person. Just a fleeting thought.

Also I just went to look at one of the aforementioned full-length videos of this concert and someone was bouncing around an inflatable shark (?) behind me. How did they get that in? Hide it deflated in one’s clothes then inflate it while in the stadium?

04. Sehnsucht (Sehnsucht)

The last strands of ‘Tattoo’ fade immediately into ‘Sehnsucht’ with no time for a break. Till removes another layer of outerwear. Fireworks burst out at every beat leading up to the main part of the song. In retrospect, discounting their fiery entrance, ‘Sehnsucht’ is really the point where you can tell they’re warming up the pyrotechnics. I don’t remember any particular interaction between Till or the guitarists, as from what I can remember Till was busy Tillhammering at the center stage; he will move around more freely later. My memories of this song are loving but blurred, because I got into headbanging with the girls beside me and their hair was grazing my arms something awful. I have similar length hair, however, so I’m sure I was doing the same to them.

God ‘Sehnsucht’ is so good. I always think of the Live Aus Berlin performance where Till was bashing the mic against his forehead when I hear this song. Hits me right in the spot every time.

Also: bonus Richard.

05. Zeig dich (Rammstein)

*sick guitar riffs* ‘Zeig! Dich!’

Fuck yeah. The heat from those firebursts are brief but incredible. Now I feel most comfortable and toasted. Black smoke drifts into the sky.

Also significant ymmv based on location, but this is only about the people around and behind me: come on guys, seriously? You don’t know the lyrics! This is the third song from Rammstein already and you’ve been quiet all three times! I however give them credit for being so well behaved through the show. People further to the right of me were getting dragged out all over the place.

06. Mein Herz brennt (Mutter)

Till trolls us with the first instance of ‘mein Herz brennt’, as the main riff doesn’t immediately begin after these words in this performance. He has a laugh about this. Other than that, the performance is as you’d expect, complete with heart pyrotechnics towards the end.

Olli comes very close to me at the halfway point. I'm starting to worry he’s going to spend the entire concert dressed like this, though the concern is unwarranted. It seems such a hot thing to be wearing.

07. Puppe (Rammstein)

ich rEISS' DER PUPPE den KOPF! AB!

ja, ich REISS' DER PUPPE den KOPF! AB!

UND DANN BEISS’ ICH DER PUPPE DEN H̷AL҉S̕ ĄA̡AA͟B̵!

E̷҉S̀͡͞ ҉̶ĢE͞͝H̷͡T͘ ̢́M͜҉I̵͜R ́͠͝N̷̴Í̷C͟͡͞H̸̀T̛̀ G̡̕U̡҉̀U̵̕U͡͠U҉UU̢U͡T̷̨̛

Make sure you see this performance live, preferably up close. It’s beyond words.

08. Heirate mich (Herzeleid)

When I was in the queue I struck up a conversation with one of my queue buddies about what songs might be on the setlist. She had been front row for the concert in Berlin prior to this, so she already knew what we were getting into. I requested no spoilers in advance, which she kept to - but then our conversation moved to the Herzeleid-Sehnsucht era and I mentioned how I’d love to see a live performance of ‘Heirate mich’ again. It was always a wistful sadness of mine that I was born too damned early to see Till doing this.

Not that I said outright Tillchard was the reason I liked this song.

In retrospect, she had a twinkle in her eye when I said this, because she knew that this song was on the setlist. I did not see it coming. I kept myself spoiler-free from day one of buying tickets to the actual concert itself, so it was a genuine surprise when the intro to ‘Heirate mich’ started playing. Surprise and confusion with a heaping side of mother fucking excuse me when I recognized what it was.

Oh I went hog wild, guys.

Till does not do the dragging himself onto his knees thing in the current tour, which I think is understandable. His knees weren’t amazing twenty years ago and they are presumably even less so now. It’s a very straightforward performance, winding down to prepare for the real showstoppers - but my old wish was finally granted, Till sounded wonderful in both song and narrative, and I came away most satisfied. 11/10 would listen again.

09. Diamant (Rammstein)

Half the band takes a break here. Flake comes down from the keyboards to sit on the stage and Olli sits beside him, providing the bass for this short beautiful little ballad. There are no fancy pyrotechnics here, nor much stage movement; it’s a sequence to make the audience aware of the overheard screen, imo, in case ‘Puppe’ didn’t do a good enough job of it. The entire performance is broadcast on that screen with the camera turning between Olli, Till, and Flake.

Till’s voice is beautiful. It’s the most legitimately serene Rammstein performance I’ve ever seen live. They have their share of ballads - ‘Ohne dich’ will also feature later in the concert - but ‘Diamant’ is probably the most low-key of them all.

10. Deutschland (Richard Z. Kruspe Remix) / Deutschland (Rammstein)

I...

???

?????

?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!

I have no words. Like ‘Puppe’, you really need to see this entire sequence live. I can say three things, however, and two are about Richard: 1) ‘Deutschland’ comes in two flavours in the tour, the second one being the glorious full version in the main album, 2) Richard avoids sounding devilish in his backing vocals (‘du hast, du hast, du hast, du hast... so heiß, so heiß, so heiß, so heiß’ etc), though I cannot guarantee he will always be as tuneful in future performances, and 3) he will not go of that coat until ‘Du hast’. DJ Kruspe is in the house and only the unrelenting flow of time can part him from his swaggity swag fluffcoat.

But I... well, I keep remembering Till’s pink shrug every time I look at it. Remember back when we fawned over that as the brand new Rammstein outfit?

Oh my God I’ve gotten so old.

11. Radio (Rammstein)

This is probably my second favourite song of the new album and they deliver. Because ‘Deutschland’ was, well, ‘Deutschland’, it comes across as relatively low-key compared to what came before (and will after), but I like it like that. During the bridge ‘Ra-di-o... radio’ part, Paul and Richard come out with their own small synths to recreate that sound. It’s so peppy.

Paul does another small dance. Why did I neglect being on Paul’s side until now? This is great.

12. Mein Teil (Reise, Reise)

I’m half ashamed to say I spent this entire performance filming it instead of rocking out. I wanted to save it that much. It was that good.

No, it’s not fundamentally different to other performances of ‘Mein Teil’. Till keeps his usual outfit, Flake’s in the pot, there is a pot, etc. However, the pyrotechnics have changed significantly, and let’s just say that Flake endures a hell of a lot more than previous incarnations.

And comes out of it more sprightly than before, somehow.

Marry me.

Also a bonus consequence of being front row: after this song, Till comes down the stage and walks along the barrier shaking/slapping hands with people. In his murderchef outfit. I was one of many who managed to touch his hand. It really is a very quick walk, so you’ll have to be ready with hand already out and in reaching distance (difficult if you’re short) if you want to partake in this encounter, but it does happen. Future concertgoers watch out for something like this maybe.

13. Du hast (Sehnsucht)

Can you really call it a live performance of ‘Du hast’ if the audience isn’t singing at least 50% of it in Till’s stead? But then, when else do we have that opportunity. Milton Keynes audience does not disappoint.

Also Till shoots some excellent fireworks that travels across the length of the stadium and back before crashing back onstage. I still hear their whistles in my mind. Night is beginning to fall for real, and it’s a fantastic time to be ramping up the fireworks. Evidently R+ think the same, because...

14. Sonne (Mutter)

Daaaaaaaaammnn!!!

I have a video of this performance, but honestly it is not that useful for assessing what’s happening onstage. There is just too much fire. The video whites out continuously from all the flames mere feet away from us. ‘Sonne’ has always been a facemelting showstopper for Rammstein during live shows, but they’ve really gone above and beyond this year: the arena truly lights up like the sun for the full duration of the song. I highly recommend getting front row for this, right in front of where you can see the pyrotechnics are installed in the above gif. (Between main speakers, essentially.) Your face will burn off even more than it usually burns off during a R+ concert, and you will enjoy every minute of it.

15. Ohne dich (Reise, Reise)

Till’s in very good condition tonight. How he pulls off the slow ballads is how I tend to gauge his voice is from night to night, and he doesn’t let us down here either. The entire front row slow waves to this song, which is something I’m proud of being a part of. The girl to the left of me is weeping. The seriousness of this song still does not prevent Flake fucking around. It wouldn’t do R+ performances justice if he wasn’t like this.

‘Ohne dich’ is considered the first ‘ending’ of the concert, meaning in reality the band’s first departure from the main stage. All six members take an initial bow before moving to the B-stage. They will return to the main stage shortly afterwards for further encores.

16. Engel (Sehnsucht)

Pros: The opening act return in their gorgeous outfits and pianos, and act as the piano instrumental for this performance.

Cons: It’s on the B-stage. I sure heard this song but didn’t see anything. God damnit I hate being five feet four.

They provide a karaoke for people exactly in my situation, though. That’s at least something 😂

17. Ausländer (Rammstein)

You thought one R+ boat ride was awesome? HOW ABOUT THREE.

I am going to cry. Look at it. It’s literally a Welcome sign. The sentiment of the music video to ‘Ausländer’ is perfectly retained as they surf across the audience from the B-stage.

Also bonus ~✨👀 unintentional Tillchard moment 👀✨~ as Richard has a little slip on his way out of the boat. He was not hurt and was back onstage quickly. All this before the song even begins. I may need to upload the video of this moment.

‘Ausländer’ itself I have slightly more mixed feelings for. The song is fantastic and I have no complaints about the album version, and hearing Till cry out ‘я люблю тебя’ is always a plus. The problem with the live version is simply that the drums are too loud during the chorus: instead of a clearly enunciated ‘Ich bin Aus-län-der!’ with a drumbeat on each syllable, one hears ‘*THUD* *THUD* Aus-län-*THUD*!’. I was wearing earplugs which might have affected the quality somewhat, but people who weren’t wearing any were talking about this after the show as well, and after watching videos of the Milton Keynes performance I’m sure the drums were too loud. Your mileage may vary on whether this is a desirable effect - it lets the audience fills in the ‘ich bin’ part, I suppose - but I feel Till was unnecessarily drowned out.

18. Du riechst so gut (Herzeleid)

For me, the highlight of this song in the live version is always, always, always Richard’s evil scream-growl ‘DU RIECHST SO GUUUUUUUUUUUT’ (example here for reference). He delivers yet again.

19. Pussy (Liebe Ist Für Alle Da)

On the whole, this performance is largely unaltered from how it usually goes. Till gestures for the audience to sing the first couple of lines, there is a dick cannon that shoots something at the audience, and Till mans the dick cannon. Last time I saw them from front row, we were all covered in a very thick white foam; this time it was bubbles, followed by a shower of white confetti. The combination was less clinging than the foam, somehow, much more pleasant to be showered with.

Only Rammstein could make me write such a sentence about dick cannons.

Speaking of the dick cannon, though, I engaged in some discussion about it while I was waiting for the performance. This cannon has had a troubled existence, as R+ fans would know: sometimes it straight up hasn’t worked, and it’s been redesigned several times, ranging from a disturbingly realistic look to a flesh-coloured polygonal creation. This current version is the least realistic of all the dick cannons R+ have ever used. It’s just like, metal. Visibly. They haven’t gone to the extra trouble of painting it flesh-coloured. My guess is that this is because it fits with their current chrome/dark aesthetics better, R+ aren’t a band to neglect that kind of detail. As long as it works and the audience is aptly showered, what’s the problem? Let’s do it quick! 😀 And now this is entirely too many words about dick cannons, so I’ll move on.

20. Rammstein (Herzeleid)

‘Ramm-stein!’

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. It is past ten o’clock and the skies have gotten dark, though not so dark you can’t see the black smoke spiraling into the air with each burst of fire. A plane flies by far above into the distance and I appreciate the poetic irony. I think I would have been happy enough if they’d ended the performance on this note, but there’s one last song left.

21. Ich will (Mutter)

I can’t think of a better finale.

This song is exactly what you’d expect, with an additional sprinkle of fireworks punctuating every pause in the lines ‘Seht ihr mich? / Versteht ihr mich? / Fühlt ihr mich? / Hört ihr mich?’. Like always, audience participation is mandatory, as is the audience showing off their hands. It is the perfect way to end the show: it’s a classic favourite, it’s neither too bright nor too grim (avoids ending on a downer note), and it’s a song exclusively written to highlight a togetherness between band and audience. ‘Ich will’ could end every R+ concert it features in, in my opinion, regardless of theme or era... and it will always be appropriate.

The concert really ends after that. It helps that Till addresses his farewell to us as ‘fucking Milton Keynes’ (in a wholly fond way) before they depart. I won’t speak about the details of how they leave, because that’s almost a small show of its own, but trust me when I say I was in tears.

I say that like that didn’t happen at least three times during the concert.

----------------------------

After it’s all over, I... don’t get to go back to my hotel and sleep. Not after a lot of waiting, anyway. Over 30,000 people are trying to leave this stadium all at once, the traffic congestion is awful and there are pretty much no taxis/uber rides available in the couple of hours following the concert. I eventually end up sitting in the McDonalds (only 24hr restaurant nearby) with queue buddies until roughly 1am until the surge goes down and I can pay the amount I promised myself for my uber.

I could have gone back earlier. I budgeted over a hundred pounds to see myself through the price surge, in case it didn’t go down as quickly as I hoped, or if I urgently needed to get myself out of danger. It was just that the predictor was showing something like fifty to eighty quid for a ten-minute ride back to my hotel and, like. Fuck that. There’s being able to ‘afford’ it, and then being able to afford it, and I can think of better ways to spend fifty pounds.

And to be honest, after over a half day of hunger, even McDonalds was one of those better places. I had a meal and a Sprite before I could get out of there. It was probably the first time I’d had something resembling a legit meal in two days and if I hadn’t been so ecstatic I think I’d have been depressed. Then I got back to my hotel. Made myself a hot chocolate with brandy. Passed out on my bed around 3am, then got back up around 7am to enjoy a nice morning bath and get myself back home. It was around 5pm on Sunday when I returned to Brighton, ears still ringing, feeling on cloud nine.

So that’s me. Future concertgoers, take as many opportunities as possible to go see Rammstein’s current tour live. Front row may be near impossible if you aren’t a LIFAD member and/or get pre-releases for the Feuer Zone (although Milton Keynes didn’t have that) but try to get as close as possible, anyway. It is not an experience to be missed.

Though also bring an umbrella, maybe. If your stadium allows it. It was a fucking trip surviving 12+ hours in the great outdoors and then immediately being rained on while on front row 😰

[xanthicantag]

omg do all the dnd asks im so curious !!!

Long boi this one is

1. A favorite character you have played.

This is a hard one, I was a real big fan of my storm barbarian Tiffany, or Unfaceable the ranger I played awhile ago.  They were more or less the same character

2. Your favorite character that someone else has played.

Oh absolutely Ragnarok the Winged One, he was my friend Juan’s first character I think (if not first one of the first).  He was a white dragon born sorcerer, who didn’t actually have wings for 96% of the campaign.  He also hated capitalists so goals really. 

3. Your favorite side quest.

One time I tried to set up a One night ultimate werewolf side quest, and it kinda worked, it’s just we stopped playing for like 2 months and they didn’t finish it.

4. Your current campaign.

I’m currently in Dungeon of the Mad Mage as an Aasimar Warlock!

5. Favorite NPC. 

Pit Man.

6. Favorite death (monster, player character, NPC, etc).

So, technically they didn’t die, but one my players character went into the Negative Plane to marry a nightwalker who was going to be the final boss, but I felt really bad for all of them after making them do a like 4 stage thing.

7. Your favorite downtime activity.

Rivals!!!!!  They are the coolest thing.

8. Your favorite fight/encounter.

The Strahd fight when I ran CoS last year was p cool, they all died but it was really not close (They got him to like 15 hp but there’s still tons of bullshit to do after that) or the final fight I did as Unfaceable, we fought a beholder and I was paralyzed for like 6 rounds.

9. Your favorite thing about D&D.

Honestly, I enjoy seeing people get excited about playing the game.  Like when Juan (Tbh he’s just my all time favorite player sorry everyone else) got a crit while we were playing in the cafeteria and just fucking yelled about it.

10. Your favorite enemy and the enemy you hate the most.

OH fccuk this is a hard choice.  I really think Nightwalkers are like the coolest right now since I love Negative plane shit.  I think dragons are kinda overrated as enemies tho, i don’t hate them really tho since dragons are dope as fuck.

11. How often do you play and how often would you ideally like to play?

I Dm about twice a week and play once a week, Ideally I’d play or dm every day and have no other obligations but life is simply unfair

12. Your in game inside jokes/memes/catchphrases and where they came from.

Temaridy

13. Introduce your current party.

We’ve got Krosnis, my Celestial Warlock, Temaridy, a Tiefling Fiend Warlock, Sigil, a Warforged Eldritch Knight, Ketla, a uh, the elvish giants, FIRBOLG, Moon Druid, and shit fuck uh, the Abjuration Wizard, who’s name is, uhh, Enzio?  Idk his name but the player canonically decided he looks like Fenris so that’s all that matters.  

14. Introduce any other parties you have played in or DM-ed.

Hmmm this is a tough choice there’s tons of them....  I’ll do the first party I solo DM-ed for I guess since they were p cool:  Hellspawn, a Tiefling Monk with the homebrew way of the 8 gates of hell subclass (He was so goddamn edgy, and played by @t-rexquefuturus even tho he doesn’t really use tumblr), Thargus Irvin, a Totem Barbarian (Played by @themonotonyofdays fun fact i guess?), Borges, an Alchemist who was just trying his best, Mikono, who was also trying his best but was much sadder about it (Played by @tsurikun so double fun fact in one post actually boom), uhhhhhh, Delgor?  Delgar?  Del-something, a Battlemaster Warlock multiclass, i’m not sure what delgar was triyng to do (other the complain about hellspawn yeah i went there they don’t have a tumblr so none of you better snitch on me i stg) and last (literally he joined in towards the end of the campaign) Magnus, a uh, Mystic, he was there

15. Do you have snacks during game times?

Yeah usually, me like snackys

16. Do you play online or in person? Which do you prefer?

I do both!  I prefer in person since it’s harder for people to talk online since it all gets muddled

17. What are some house rules that your group has?

Er, on the sly anything goes tbh if it seems cool enough

18. Does your party keep any pets?

In the current one we have so many familiars it’s crazy.

19. Do you or your party have any dice superstitions?

Amy (The one who loves pit man) rolls all her dice at the start and takes the one that did the best

20. How did you get into D&D? How long have you been playing?

In highschool i played 2 times for like, 10 hours each time?  that was so fucking long holy shit, and the freshman year of college i started co-dming a group and then it took off from there

21. Have you ever regretted something your character has done?

Tbh, not really?  Like, 80% of them are dumb as fuck so jot that down, but I don’t usually do stuff in game that I regret, except that one time i died but it was to be a hero so worth it

22. What color was your first dragon?

I think it was a baby black dragon?

23. Do you use premade modules or original campaigns?

I use both depending on how busy I am

24. How much planning/preparation do you do for a game?

Depends?  I usually do a lot of long term planning early on and then not too much per session

For DMs

25. What have your players done that you never could have planned for?

The one group got really attached to some meaty boiz, and then the one player killed all of them and like most of the party, great way to end the campaign

26. What was your favorite scene to write and show your characters.

Oooo, hmmmmmmmmm, I really had a good plan for the end to this arc (the one with the nightwalker) but it kinda didn’t really happen how i planned which was a bit of a bummer, but it worked out in sort of a better way

27. Do you allow homebrew content? Yeah as long as it doesn’t seem like super busted

28. How often do you use NPCs in a party?  I usually give npcs if they need like a healer or something, like Kargol

29. Do you prefer RP heavy sessions or combat sessions?

I don’t really have a preference for either?  My groups get a lil bloodthirsty if they go too long with a fight usually (Except you @themoragontrail just pacifist running a whole session and a half)

30. Are your players diplomatic or murder hobos?

Oh definitely murder hobos

For Players

31. What is your favorite class? Favorite race?

Oh this is hard, I’m a big fan of Warlock customization and flexibility, I don’t really have favorite race (It’s tieflings I read homestuck feel free to at me)

32. What role do you like to play the most? (Tank/healer/etc?)

I’m usually a tank/front line, It’s where I like to be, does it always end well?  Not even close, does my warlock have more hp than our fighter?  Hell fucking yes

33. How do you write your backstory, or do you even write a backstory?

So, it depends?  I usually do it last once I’ve made the rest of the character and use it as a reason why their the way they are now.  And I give like 65% of them heterochromia cause i thinks it’s sick as fuck

34. Do you tend pick weapons/spells for being useful or for flavor?

as someone who loves lances, need i say more?

35. How much roleplay do you like to do?

It depends on what game i’m in, i usually don’t do too much rping in combat heavy stuff, but i like to, and also i love rping sub 8 int, or 14>= int but that’s just me irl and let me tell you, I’m a dumbass who will eat the exploding rock

[pixelgrotto]

Creating the characters of The Thirteenth Hour in Soulcalibur VI

Soulcalibur VI has been out for about four days and all the time I’ve spent in it thus far has been solely devoted to screwing around with the character creator. The other stuff in the game looks great, and I’m excited to dive into the story mode, mess around with guest character Geralt from The Witcher and hop online for a bit. But even though I had time to potentially do all of that this past weekend, the allure of designing my own Frankenstein creations was too great to resist, and I spent about ten hours over the last few days just tweaking characters based on my friends and me...as well as five characters from the world of The Thirteenth Hour, which is a fantasy adventure that my brother self-published which I’ve mentioned here before. It’s also the setting that I’ve been using for the homebrew Dungeons & Dragons campaign that I’m running with my brother and previously posted about, and you can see the two protagonist characters of the first adventure of that campaign - Lester LeFoe and Claudia Copperhoof - digitized in the world of Soulcalibur in the above video. 

That’s right, I made a video! Aside from the D&D recordings I’ve uploaded to my YouTube channel, this marks my first exciting foray into zee scary world of video content! Actually, this is more like just a thing I decided to crap out with OBS Screen Recorder because I was getting so into making these characters that I wanted to have a log somewhere, and I also wanted to show my brother since he doesn’t actually own Soulcalibur VI. But while this is a pretty slapdash video with no editing, I do have plans to dabble in making more complicated YouTube projects in the future. Still trying to figure out what my format will be (probably some form of video essay, a la my blog posts) and it’ll still be some time before I attempt to do anything complex, but yeah, some stuff will be coming in the pipeline...possibly once I finish my current big project of playing through all the Resident Evil games. (This blog has basically become Resident Evil central for most of this past year.)  Anyhow, enjoy watching my custom characters beat the stuffing outta each other, and I’d just like to add that you should get Soulcalibur VI if you have any interest in fighting games or character creators. I’m so glad that the series is back and hopefully here to stay after its long hiatus - may the soul never stop burning!

I also took some nifty screenshots of these characters in action - if you wanna see, you should reaaaaallly follow my Twitter!