#unnatural creatures spoilers

[fictionaltrvlr]

I’m obsessed with all the repeating themes in the Hunger Games, but one I’m absolutely in love with is how Snow can never escape Lucy Gray.

[This post contains spoilers!]

We know this almost immediately simply from the title, Songbirds and Snakes, as we remember Katniss and her mockingjay and singing in the arena. But this is just the tip of the iceberg.

Snow hates Katniss for the rebellion, of course. But perhaps more than that is what a call she is to his lost love, not in personality so much as spirit.

Lucy Gray is Truly Inescapable

Lucy Gray is named for the Ballad of Lucy Gray, and immediately when we learn this, there is the sinking knowledge that she will not survive this story.

But after the disappearance of the ballad’s Lucy Gray, they follow her footprints, the impressions she’s left behind. And later is one of my favourite lines from the ballad:

Yet some maintain that to this day She is a living Child, That you may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome Wild.

To all the knowledge that the girls family has, she has died. But they still see her.

And also pulling in the newly released Can’t Catch Me Now:

But I'm in the trees, I'm in the breeze My footsteps on the ground You'll see my face in every place But you can't catch me now

(I’m so in love with how well this song ties the franchise together, it’s so perfect)

From the second he lands in Twelve, Snow hates the mockingjays and does his best to eradicate them. He sees them as unnatural creatures who survived not only without the Capitol, but inspite of them. And yet he fails to get rid of them, the mockingjays survive despite his best efforts.

And even years later, their sheer existence haunts him, eventually proving to be one of his greatest failures.

And all of the messes you made Yeah, you think that you got away

This is a great line to me because, since this being told from the perspective of Lucy Gray, it turns the story on its head. We and Snow are never really sure if she survived, so you could think that she got away. But it’s in fact Snow who has deluded himself into getting away from her. She will follow him, everywhere, for the rest of his miserable life.

At the end of TBOSAS, he says there would be a vague memory of a girl who had once sung in the arena, and that Lucy Gray and her mockingjays could never hurt him again.

Then gloriously, devastatingly, 65 years later Snow sees another girl with braided hair from Distinct Twelve in the games, adorned with a mockingjay, who sings Rue to sleep, who escapes the arena by cheating with something the Capitol themselves has provided (Katniss with the berries, Lucy Gray with the snakes).

Katniss, who then goes on to spark rebellion with that same symbol of mockingjays, with the song that Lucy Gray penned.

Snow is seeing Lucy Gray everywhere, in the mockingjays, in Peeta’s personality, in Katniss’ appearance, in the song about that tree that changed his life. But he cannot catch her.

He tried, and never knew if he succeeded. But she is everywhere, the symbol of his weakness, the one thing that maybe could have made him give up his future. The person who made him come to detest the very idea of love, who made him swear that if he ever married it will be to someone he hates so they could never manipulate him.

Her spirit chokes him. He is drowning in her and her mockingjays, and they finally are his downfall.

And that is beautiful.

[that-ari-blogger]

Critical Role's Previous Cameraman

I put up a post the other day about critical role's new animated introduction and I couldn't help but notice a sudden spike in the analytical stuff that I don't really understand. A more tech orientated friend of mine informed me that this was a good thing, actually. So, I thought I might capitalise on that and examine the previous campaign's opening sequence through the same lens and do some more analysis.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD

One notable thing about this song is when it starts. Exactly eleven seconds in. That's eleven seconds of wait before the final payoff. You catch glimpses of what's happening above, but nothing else.

And that is a key theme of this campaign. The unseen. The Mighty Nein was a party characterised by trauma, and a lot of the time, you don't see that, you only see glimpses. A flash of a fight they told you about, and the sensation of drowning.

But then we meet Fjord.

He's falling, and I'd like to point out the direction in which he is falling. You will notice the scars on his back, signifying he was probably in the process of running away, or was betrayed by someone, and he is falling towards those scars. Backwards. There is also a neat thing of falling away from the light, into the darkness, into the unknown. THis is someone out of control, leaning into the pain. And what is it that sees that?

There is a reason Uk'otoa's design looks so much like a leach. The creature is a parasite, it doesn't find someone strong to break down, it found someone weak, and at its mercy, and brought him under its control. What this shot does is highlight that creature's opportunistic nature, but it also associates it very clearly with the visual of that eye.

And it's that eye that carries through. When Fjord washes up on the beach, when he is finally safe, he carries with him a little piece of Uk'otoa, a little piece of that trauma.

It's also notable of that it is an eye. It's obvious, but it colours his vision, and changes how he views the world. Its effects aren't physical, but mental.

Beaureguard Lionet is a fighter. Not in the sense of class, because she isn't but in the sense of personality. Beau is a fighter in the sense that her first reaction to any problem is to punch it.

This transition is a wipe transition, but its important because of what it uses. It uses the opportunity to show off the uniforms of Beau's attackers, because otherwise the shadows of the rest of the shot make them hard to make out. These are wearing the same robes as her. Whoever they are, they are part of a team of some kind with her, they are people she should be able to trust, but look at how much damage they have done to her. Look at how heavily she is breathing. And look at what Beau does in response.

She fights back. This is how the animation gets across this character. She isn't complex, she doesn't need a great explanation, she doesn't have different sides to her, she just hits things until they stop being a problem.

I will also point out her eyes again. They are blue, not an unnatural eye colour, but they are the same blue as her robes, and the robes of those who are attacking her. Once again, the has warped the vision of its recipient, and in this case, it's creating a cycle of violence as all she knows how to do, is hit things.

We don't see Nott The Brave for a while in this animatic. We instead see, once again, the eyes. But I also want to point out that this was made before we knew about Veth. So we were just seeing the scared goblin.

This is as close as we get in this scene, and its Nott actively hiding from the light. The warmth scares her, and for good reason, its the same heat that we see emanating from her eyes. Once again, the trauma that has contaminated a character's vision is changing their reactions to the world.

And with that, I would like to talk about Jester, and I would like to do that in context.

The term "foil" in the context of a character was actually popularised by William Shakespear, who handily explained the metaphor for us.

"And like bright metal on a sullen ground, My reformation, glitt'ring o'er my fault, Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes Than that which hath no foil to set it off."

Put in English, I shine brighter when you have something to compare me to. And this is what a foil character is, a character who brings about elements in other characters that can easily be missed, or who shows off by contrast their personalities.

Jester is one of the two characters in the Mighty Nein who is not a child of trauma, and her introduction shows that. She reacts to her life by laughing, and contrast that with everyone else. Fjord reaches for a sword, the item of his trauma; Beau tries to fight her trauma despite that approach clearly not working; and Nott hides from it, unable to reach out for help.

And it is notable that the first time we see an adult Jester, she looks normal (if a bit over cheerful), then is immediately contrasted with the rest of the Nein.

This not only shows just how different her demeanour is from the rest of the crew, but it shows her effect on them. She makes them all smile. Jester and Caduceus are very much support characters in the truest sense of the word. They support others. Jester shows genuine kindness towards everybody else, and it reflects onto them.

This shot is neat but not too special. Its a tracking shot on the hat of all things, because thats what important here, and it shows the traveling dynamic of the group. It's a tiny bit of tension in an otherwise calm scene, so the camera is steady, but speeds up slightly to match the movement of the object, then comes to a stop when it is caught. There is very little stress, but there is a sense of comradery.

Similarly, this shot establishes some stakes with a rising pan to show the scale of the threat and to show some more information, but it is hardly a monster, so the camera isn't really in a hurry.

Enter Caleb Widogast, born in fire. I don't think they could write a more thematic entrance if they tried. An abrupt cut shows the night, then it is entirely consumed by fire, only to reveal Caleb.

There is no motion here. The camera is stock still. This is the exact same thing with Ashton and FCG in the Bell's Hells. Caleb is disassociating from the heat in front of him, and there is a fascinating reason behind that. Caleb has two characters that need to be introduced to better understand him, the man, and Bren, the boy.

The flames consume the screen again, and then part to show a boy, staring at the screen, in horror. This is what you need to know about this character, this is a character forged in flames, born from the Ashes. Bren is dead, Caleb Widogast remains.

And this shot, with Caleb, Astrid and Eadwulf silhouetted against the fire, shows what kind of trauma we are talking about, and what effect it has. This is guilt, and in contrast with the rest of his party, this guilt is paralysing.

Yasha, however, is introduced in a calm way, in contrast to everything around her. The camera shows you a woman, meditating, and then pans backwards to reveal this:

This is a woman surrounded by bloodshed, who has made a concerted effort to look away from it, and to look to the Storm Lord for guidance. This is a woman looking for healing, in comparison to everyone else, but that looking doesn't change the fact that that trauma is still there.

The next few scenes are cool, but don't really add anything to this analysis and I only have a few more images I can show here, so I'm going to skip to Taliesin's characters.

Caduceus has two introductions. One is this shot, which is a cool action shot of him casting an epic spell and vanquishing a crowd of enemies. But instead of the incredibly animated (in the sense of exaggerated poses) nature of his companions, Caduceus clay is calm and collected. He is unquestionably the anchor of the group, and where Jester contrasts them emotionally, Caduceus does so on a philosophical level. Caduceus is a gardener of fungus.

Mushrooms and other fungi are recyclers, they grow on dead trees and creatures and give a forest new life. They clear out the debris and make way for new things to take hold. That's what Caduceus does for the Nein, he helps them get through their trauma so that Jester can help them improve and become better.

Caduceus's actual introduction is muted, and there's a point to that. He's not trying to be the main character, you don't need to understand his family life to understand him. You need to understand that can stand in a graveyard and see the light, that he is at peace with what has gone before him and helps people to get past it, and that his entire mission, to regrow the grove, isn't to bring back what is lost, but to help regrow something new in its place instead of the blight that lingers there.

Mollymauk is introduced as a weapon transformed into a grave. That is what this transition is and I think that's really important. Mollymauk is, very clearly, a repurposed soul. He isn't the first person to inhabit that shell, and he isn't the last. I also want to point out how this character is represented here, not with a heroic memory, but with a quiet moment or remenicing on times gone by. He is a shadow that haunts the Nein.

This is by far the simplest shot in the entire video, and that's because it isn't telling you anything. You bring your own emotions to the table here, you bring the memories to the grave, that's how grieving works.

Once again, there is more to this video, but I'm only allowed to put 30 images in a single post. So I leave you with a quote from Niel Gaiman.

"Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten."

DnD likewise, and all TTRPGs for that matter, are powerful because in them, with a little bit of help from friends, any monster, no matter how personal, can be defeated.

[odditycircus-2002]

Medusa! Reader and Shang Tsung: Story Mode Part 4

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Spoiler Warning: Proceed with Caution

Although you didn't want to leave Baraka behind, and neither did the latter want you going inside without him, Kenshi assured you both that it wouldn't be long and he'd signal if anything went wrong. So, after more reassurances to one another, you led Kenshi, Kung Lao, and Johnny through a seldomly used back entrance into the laboratory.

When the trio eavesdrops on Shang Tsung explaining the changes he made to the serum for Mileena, they are too focused on the Sorcerer and the Princess to notice how your body language has softened and melancholic. You were so focused on how you hadn't seen Outworld's heir for a while or whether or not to speak of your affliction with her that you almost missed Kung Lao whispering about how Shang Tsung was infecting Mileena with Tarkat.

You try to whisper no, that's not the case. Unfortunately, the trio was already set on the "truth," so much so that they revealed themselves from their hiding place to confront the Sorcerer, along with Tanya and Rain, both you're also familiar with.

A glance at the unconscious Mileena in her chair was all the motivation you needed to tackle Johnny Cage to the ground. The man gave a shout in surprise. You pin him down, asking what the hell has gotten into you. You yell at Cage for him and his compatriots, being idiotic to assume they know everything. Johnny shouted at you to get off him as tried to shake you loose, even going as far as to go for your mask. He nearly rips the thing off but gets a glance at your scales and a few of your hissing snakes underneath. Johnny could only mutter a "What in the f-", before chopping him in the throat with your hand.

At the sound of a glass breaking, you glance to your side to find the syringe Shang was holding earlier shattered on the ground. Abandoning your tussle with Cage, you follow the Sorcerer to his work table to help make another serum for Mileena. Shang shouts for Rain to let you pass since the latter doesn't recognize you with the mask on. He complies, and you get to work with Shang.

You asked him to instruct you on what to do since you picked up earlier that he altered the serum. Shang quickly instructs you to gather a few herbs from your cabinet, which he completely rearranged, much to your annoyance. You two got work in crushing, mixing, and distilling, working eerily well in sync as if you were both a perfect machine.

"I have dearly missed working with you like this,"

"Stuff it, Shang."

You don't stop from working despite Kenshi threatening both you and Shang. You're finally physically stopped when Kenshi holds his blade to your throat while you are in mid-mixing. In the background, Johnny warns Kenshi about the snakes under your hood. As if to prove him right, you let out a hiss before allowing more snakes under your hood to slither in a threat display. Shang Tsung deeply scowls at Kenshi for threatening you and preventing both of you from working.

Kenshi asked why you're working with the man you made no secret of despising. Shang Tsung quickly explains that you are his lab partner, although you quickly add that you WERE his partner until he turned you into a twisted creature. The Sorcerer ignores you as he explains he's not trying to infect Mileena but to protect her, so you also put your hate to the side for the moment. Still skeptical, Kenshi dismisses Shang's words and has Johnny and Kung Lao watch you both. Shang did nothing to hide his contempt for the two while you continued hissing with your snakes still writhing from your hood.

You stopped hissing when you heard Mileena struggling in her chair, screaming in pain from the transformation brought on by Tarkat. You scream her name, heartbreaking as you watch the girl you've known since her birth unnaturally flare open her mouth to show the grotesque mess of pointed teeth. You scold both Kung Lao and Johnny for not fucking listening to you before getting to work to desperately prepare her needed serum. You made sure to add some sedatives to instantly knock her out.

You gasped in horror when Mileena impaled Kenshi in the eyes with her sais right before Shang Tsung injected her with the serum. You work swiftly to summon some water to rinse the blood from Kenshi's face just as Princess Katana enters the scene. Along with General Shao. A man who is not exactly fond of you and vice versa.

When General Goro knocked out both Johnny and Kung Lao and then had his guards drag them and Kenshi away, you stood up to tell Kitana that this was a misunderstanding and Shang's suspicious activities. However, Shao shouts over you with his booming voice, commanding you to be silent. He will not believe a word from someone who deserted their post, especially one who was supposed to treat Outworld's heir and the Royal House. Shao always had a way of getting under your skin, so you didn't hesitate to get in his face, snakes out, and seconds away from tearing into his hideous face. You tell him that if his brain was as big as his mouth, then maybe he'd actually have a shred of intelligence in that thick skull of his.

General Shao reaches for the large knife on his side when you reach a hand to take your mask off before Shang steps in between you two and barely misses getting bit by one of your snakes. He pulls you back before whispering in your ear.

He offers you another ultimatum to either concur with the lie he came up with on the spot or finally learn what's been in the lower levels of the lab the entire time and share the Earthrealmer's fate.

You hiss at Shang Tsung and rip your mask off, but Shang closes his eyes in time as General Shao reacts within a second to knock you back to the stone floor with the butt of his knife. You heard Kitana gasp from where you lay.

"By the Gods, What has happened to you???"

General Shao snaps his fingers, and the rest of his soldiers quickly hold you down as they both blindfold you and gag your mouth, one suffering a deep bite through his gloves. You hear more than see the soldier collapse to the ground, metal scraping against solid stone as he spasms uncontrollably while vomiting blood and bile. He takes one last shaky breath before collapsing on the floor, dead.

You try to shout at Kitana, who you know is wearing a face of horror and disbelief, that you didn't mean to do that. Yet, it was for naught as Shao commands his soldiers to take you with the Earthrealmers since you are just as much a threat as them. Again, you writhe against your captors, blind and silent, as you're dragged into the lower level of the laboratory. You try to scream, one last time, that Kitana is being deceived by the snake in her mother's court. Yet, it all fell on deaf ears.

The last thing you hear before you're dragged down the stairs is Shang Tsung.

"I truly regret it has come to this, my sweet."

You felt a weight sink in your stomach.

Playlist While Writing This:

"Monster" By Lady Gaga

"Darkside" By Neoni

"Never Forget You" By Zara Larsson

"My Demons" By Starset

[marvelmusing]

Deserve You

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Corporalki!Reader

Summary: After surviving the Fold and the violence of the First Army, you and Aleksander are reunited, though he still struggles with his own monsters.

Warnings: brief mentions of canon level violence

A/N: the comfort fics have begun! This fic contains very minor spoilers for season two (no plot points, just the general background that has been seen in the trailers and promos)

My Masterlist

Aleksander knows you are tired. The past few days have been trying for you both.

The memory of your reunion, you crushing yourself against his chest, tears soaking into the fabric of his kefta, is at the forefront of his mind as he makes his way towards his rooms.

As he thinks of you, the scars on his face twinge. He knows you had done your best to heal the damage, as well as tailoring it away into thin black lines over his features.

Over the last few days, Aleksander has seen your fingers flexing in a familiar motion, easing the pain throbbing at your temples after another sleepless night. Eyes aching after a bought of tears that you had hidden from everyone else - even him.

He can only hope that you hadn’t waited up for him tonight, though he is half expecting to see you sat at his desk with a book in hand like usual.

He didn’t mind it when you could curl up by the fireplace in his study at the Little Palace, or one of the armchairs tucked away in the corner of his war room, as you waited for him to return from overrun meetings or training sessions.

But here, in this abandoned old estate where he and his Grisha have been forced to take refuge in, he knows you will struggle to find such luxuries. He hopes to find you comfortable in bed, perhaps even already asleep.

Instead, Aleksander finds you curled into a ball on the old armchair by the fireplace in his study. The firelight flickers over your face, features softened as you dream. Neck at an odd angle, your head is against the armrest, face nuzzled against the swaddle of dark blanket you had bundled around yourself.

He knows from experience that the armchair you’re sleeping on is rather uncomfortable. The cushioning is well worn, providing little protection from the hard wooden base, and the fabric is fraying at the edges.

As he steps towards you, quietly in an attempt at not disturbing your rest, he realises it isn’t a blanket draped over your frame. It’s his cloak.

Tears gloss in Aleksander’s eyes at the thought of losing this - losing you. The rest of the Grisha fear him, even those who are loyal to him feel unsettled by the unnatural power he had gained but had yet to use in their presence.

The bone rattling ache that reverberates in his very soul at the creation of his creatures is enough of an incentive to use this power only in times of great need.

Only once had the nichevo’ya slipped from his control, when he had found you in one of the First Army prison camps.

Hands bound to prevent you from using your power, you had been helpless to stop the Sergeant that grabbed you during the commotion of Aleksander’s attack.

At every camp he liberated, Aleksander had searched for you, desperately hoping you were alive and unharmed. When he found you, knife at your throat, being used as a bargaining chip for some pathetic solider, the shadows had spilt out of him, vying for blood.

That uncontrollable burst of power had formed into a creature that tore through the soldier, flinging you to safely before it mauled him to a painful and grisly death.

Wide eyed, a shallow cut against your throat, you had stared at Aleksander as he rushed over to you, dropping to his knees to assess the damage. He had summoned the Cut instantly, shattering your shackles and guiding your hands to your wound, however minor it was.

Once you were healed, he finally gained the will to withdraw his monster from the body of the soldier, studying your expression all the while.

When you had reached for him, concerned about the visible wounds left by the volcra instead of asking about his abominations, he had been surprised.

Even now, despite everything, you still consider him your safe space - gaining comfort from his cloak when he could not be here to hold you himself.

Knowing you will be uncomfortable when you wake if he does not move you, he bends down to rouse you gently from your slumber. His breath catches at the sight of your lashes fluttering delicately as you slowly pull yourself away from sleep.

Then you tense, eyes widening and body backing away into the seat of the armchair. He shushes you softly, saying your name in a low voice and ignoring the spike in his chest at your fearful response.

“Only me,” he assures you.

The ache only alleviates once you relax, which happens instantly when you recognise his presence. Mumbling his name sleepily, you reach towards him, closing the already limited space between you.

The proximity allows him to see the cloak better, curled purposefully around your shoulders with the excess bundled against your chest. Then he notices the mud on the hem by your bare feet. He frowns.

“Is this the cloak I wore to Ryevost?”

At his question, you glance down, running your fingertip over the edge of the soft lining that had been keeping you warm as you slept.

“The new ones don’t smell like you.”

“This one smells of horse,” he counters with a teasing arch of his brow.

“Horse and you. But mostly you.”

He hums, disliking the thought of you using something dirty. In Aleksander’s opinion, you deserve to lie on the finest silks and beneath the softest of blankets. Instead, you’re making do with his travel worn clothing.

“Perhaps I could select a cloak solely for indoor use, which you could steal from me instead of this one.”

“Or maybe one of your keftas?” you suggest, avoiding his eyes.

In response, he hooks a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. A heat fills him, his lips twitching into a smirk as he adds his own suggestion,

“Just the kefta?”

Warmth spreads over your cheeks, as a long unseen mischief fills your eyes.

“Perhaps on special occasions.”

He hums approvingly, leaning forward to kiss your lips.

It’s only once he moves to lift you into his arms that you pull away from him, shaking your head and assuring him hurriedly,

“No, no. I can stand.”

He pauses, staring into your eyes. The concern there tugs at his heart, soothing the burn of his pride at the nervous edge in your voice. Ever since his return, you’ve been afraid of the damage his survival did to his body.

“I’m not fragile,” he states firmly, resolve hardening as he pushes the cloak from your body, revealing your night attire as he wraps his arms around you.

Scooping you up against his chest, he swallows down the small tinge of pain at the effort as he moves towards his bedroom.

“I’m not saying you are, Sasha. But you shouldn’t exert yourself.”

He lowers you at the foot of the bed you share, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. As he backs away, you frown and add,

“You should get some rest.”

As he opens up a drawer to retrieve his night shirt, the corner of his mouth curls into a half smile, one that only you can bring out of him.

“As should you.”

Straightening slightly, you watch as if you’re waiting for him to return to his study. He knows if he did, you would pull on his bathrobe and join him as he worked.

“Not without you.”

He nods in assent, gesturing towards the head of the bed with his shirt still in hand.

“I’m joining you. Please, get comfortable.”

Following his order is easy enough for you, pulling back the covers and sliding your bare legs against the chilly sheets. He watches you shiver lightly as he shrugs off his kefta, tossing it aside before he removes his cotton tunic as well.

Aleksander feels your eyes on his bare chest as he tugs on his grey sleep shirt. He knows you are looking over the scars that litter his body, both new and old, the faded white, fresh pink, and inky black. Plenty of them had been healed by your own hand.

As he pulls his trousers down and changes his underwear, you lie back against the pillows, subconsciously nearing the centre of the bed to be close to him when he arrives.

Aleksander joins you, as promised, sliding beneath the covers to lie on his back and welcome you into his arms. He remains still, allowing you to shift yourself into a comfortable position around him.

Nestling into the side of his body, half draped over him, you press a kiss to the spot between his neck and his shoulder. Aleksander shivers, tightening his hold on you as the chilly tip of your nose brushes over his skin.

Then you settle further down, resting your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as the world goes quiet.

He murmurs the admission that has been weighing him down over the last few days, saddened words against your hair as he brushes his lips over the crown of your head.

Even as you’re half asleep, you pick up on his distress, lifting your head slightly,

“Sasha?”

He knows you will pick up on his heartbeat if he lies. The self loathing that has been festering under his skin urges him to repeat himself, in the hope that you will finally see sense and flee from him.

“I don’t deserve you.”

Instead of responding, you burrow further into his arms, curling your own protectively around his waist and the back of his neck as you press your body over the top of his.

As your fingers thread lightly through his hair, his eyes flutter closed. He feels something inside him shatter as you place a kiss against his neck, where his heartbeat is the strongest.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say quietly. “This is what I want to give you.”

He feels your fingers tighten in his hair and the fabric of his shirt. The concept of anyone giving Aleksander something with no expectations is foreign to him. Everyone wants something.

Though all you appear to want is him.

Not the Darkling who can summon creatures of shadow. Not the General who offers you protection. Or the amplifier that could give you the strength to perhaps rival the sun summoner. Not even the boy, Aleksander, who learnt cruelty from his mother’s knee.

All the fractured pieces of himself, hardened and lost and twisted by time and suffering. Aleksander can never deny you what you want, but he never imagined you could want him so much, in spite of everything he has become.

His dark eyes fill with tears once again, the reclined position of his head causing them to spill out, casting wet streaks over his temples.

“Whether you deserve it or not, this is what I want. I want to love you, Aleksander.”

-

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters

[nemeliis]

Cursed!Lord Oyster AU

Spoilers for all chapter's of A Mermaid's Tale!

In this AU, Lord Oyster accidentally absorbs White Pearl's curse (NOT her power's, JUST her curse)— instead due to him clutching her pearl so dearly—because of this, when he returns from his voyage, seemingly unscathed despite the raw reckage and death of Abalone Cookie along with his entire crew, with a very odd smile on his face: almost like he knows something we don't, something has to be up. And because the curse seems to be fueled by rage, or the fact that it's supposed to be a Mermaids curse rather than a Cookies, his body takes the toll and he gets a serpent/mermaid half.

Which he hides via magic he also acquired during his curse. All of the rage he's been suppressing for decades comes broiling over in the worst way, and the leader of House Urchin has to deal with it before he's next on the chopping block. From a reclused, soft spoken Cookie with a humble heart—to a sadistic, conniving and unfeeling one filled with blinding rage overnight, Roasted Urchin isn't sure about the rumor's: or if he wants to believe them. The disappointment of House Oyster would never do something so vile as eradicating the entire Abalone House in cold jam in less than a day...right...?

___________________________

Here's some fun facts about him!

In Lord Oysters original concept, before he was even drawn or sketched out—he was going to be a harpy-like creature with wing's and a tail. But that was scrapped because I can't draw wing's to save my life, and it wouldn't make since considering he's from the land. I was supposed to represent how deep his curse went, but I opted for color pallette changes instead.

Though Lord Oyster can hide his serpentine lower half, he can't hide his hair changes or eye color. If you're wondering why no one questions it (except for Roasted Urchin Cookie)—it's because there too focused on the Abalone House's demise to realize what's going on.

He likes terrorizing House Urchin in his spare time—particularly Roasted Cookie, like little kid and his uncle fights but actually dangerous and sadistic.

He has a HUGE form, similar to Black Pearl! But he prefers to keep in his smaller one unless prompted.

Fiercely protective over House Oyster, and got more fortune than in the original timeline due to some.. interesting scheme's (killing other house's to get to the top faster so he could feed his family). He really does justify that one in his head.

When a family member of House Oyster reaches there 10th birthday, Lord Oyster meets them on the sea side and blesses them with his protection —this is why Oyster Cookie always had nannies up until that age, it's protocol. It's a family secret, and everyone see's Lord Oyster differently. But one thing that stays true: you can have faith in him, for if you have a pure heart, someone shall watch over you.

A “pure heart” just means like. An okay person since Lord Oyster brushes Oyster Cookies political game's off.

Lord Oyster gained the following power's from his curse:

Super strength (like. Throwing around ship's type strength)

Night vision

Sharp teeth...(not even a superpower but..teeth,,,)

Enhanced senses

Weapon summoning/water control

Immortality, can only die from unnatural causes. (He outlived his entire family ☹️..)

[saltysaltdog]

Narinder and his relationship to the bishops. What caused their falling out?

The game tells you everything you need to know... (Spoiler, it was Leshy)

"Hapless Leshy" is how Haro describes them. And that just means he's very unlucky, unfortunate... doomed.

Leshy is the youngest god, the god of Chaos and flux. For a lot of people when they imagine Chaos, they think of something ever changing, a sensory overload that's never consistent and with no repeating patterns. Constant change.

Notably, Narinder doesn't have anything bad to say about him. His dialogue is limited to one line. "Leshy fell before you like a grain of sand before a tidal wave." Considering how verbose Narinder usually is this should strike you as odd. He comments about how happy he is with seeing the others fall, but not Leshy. He even holds himself in check if you do something that really upsets him, like sell out Ratau (cough cough) but he can't bring himself to demean leshy in the same way, nor celebrate at all.

He should be a natural ally to Narinder, who wanted change. And yet he's not.

"He was unalike the rest of his kin. While others dealt with flux; chaos, famine, pestilence, war. Things in which their constancy must transpose. And yet he was the inevitable; the obstinate and irresistible. The one who waits. Truly peculiar, 'twould then seem, has appetency to invite the novel and the new, break ancient vow and primordial bond alike. Traditions stagnate and appetites augment, nonetheless. Doubt tears faith asunder."

Switching between two states: change, is the natural order of things, Leshy should be inviting chaos, causing it... And there lies the problem.

Bonds of familial duty, turned instead to chains. Most voracious of appetites, curbed and contained. Most infectious of ideas cut off and cauterised before given chance to rot and spread. Cruel, verily. Alas, what other recourse was given? How does one kill Death? ... Alas. One cannot."

The final lines imply that they sacrificed their power, their growth, to stop Narinder, but what if it wasn't him they were doing it for?

Hear me out. Leshy is the youngest and the weakest, it could be that his powers couldn't handle the rate at which things were changing. If so, then he would only be an obstacle to Narinder. At first it would be fine, but if Leshy didn't get better, if the bishops couldn't cause meaningful change, new things, if change itself was making him sick and "Doubt tears faith asunder": wouldn't it be the one to "break ancient vow and primordial bond alike" be first in line for having the blame cast on them?

We don't have a clear idea on what shenainigains Narinder was up to, but both he and Shamura tell us one thing he was working on.

"The blame hangs heavy 'round my neck. I introduced him to ideas of change..." ".... Death cannot flow backward."

Bringing the dead back to life.

He praises you for doing so in response to one of his quests on his quest line. But that's not to say it's all he was working on.

--

Hang tight, because this bit is up for interpretation:

These guys.

Cute mushroom guys that infect you and try to turn you into a mushroom too, and once you die you can be replanted, again and again and again and again and a- its basically immortality!

They live in Narinder's domain, and yet they are Menticide Mushrooms from Anura given a follower form. They are unnatural, and fiercely hunted when they visit there, so they are not endemic to the area. If Narinder was playing with Nature's laws, turning mushrooms into people, or people into mushrooms, then what's to say he wasn't trying it on anything else?

Like say maybe... plants?

Yes.

Now technically a lot of enemies you fight have plant like features, so many in fact that it's like they were mass produced, existing everywhere except the silk cradle: Shamura's domain of war.

Now these plant creatures fight for the bishops, but that's not to say they are natural. We get normal frogs, insects, fish, etc, but we only get these plant-like worm followers after Leshy turns them into plant like creatures. I don't believe you can randomly happen across them. Perhaps these constructs were originally developed to ensure protection of his siblings, something to prevent them from wasting followers on defending their realms from weaker gods. Or launching assaults. After all, don't many people have a primordial bond to the land they grew up on? Having your favourite tree attack you would suck.

While maybe not a direct result of Narinder, although I wouldn't put it past him to look at a worm and crown and go "oh this'll be funny", I think it's possible that no other plant creature developed consciousness, that Leshy is special, unique, alone.

Perhaps everyone had different ideas on how to help him.

It's up to personal preference the order of events and the degree of sentience the plant enemies have, and thus the mental age of leshy when he became a god, but I'm inclined to think that Narinder still considers Leshy his baby brother, one who would be spared if he could.

(He also made the undead enemies you fight but that's probably obvious.)

But this is all speculation, entities like the gold loving tree exist, so there could be old entities that are plant based kicking around. And the mushrooms could just be from the giant dead god skull being a god of decay. It's hard to know for sure.

It'd be so funny if we could plant that mushroom and grow a giant god. Unlikely though.

-

So Leshy's existence is unprecedented, Chaos itself to many who see him. But why doesn't chaos help him? Narinder speaks about the "unordered beauty of his realm..." and his attack patterns are technically random, but most Bishops speak on their domain a lot.

Leshy doesnt.

"Winds of change blow; dost thou sense it? Around us, the world creaks and turns. Afore, it stood immobile. Motionless centuries grow rust. Now leshy has fallen..."

His domain was stagnant. Leshy is concerned with Narinder being a heretic, and thus you, because your rituals don't align with the old faith's practices. But since those "traditions stagnate", it makes sense why he is the least revered among his siblings, his grasp on the order, what those rituals are supposed to bring, isn't that good. He's probably just doing them because he's supposed to without understanding the greater purpose of them.

"The worm, it is hungry. It feeds. It partakes of our flesh. But that is the price for safety. For that we gladly give it all we have."

His average followers don't even use his name, or maybe they aren't really his followers at all? It's hard to know for sure.

"I recall Leshy. Prior to yourself, he was the last to bargain with me. Adept as he was, he rose quickly to the challenges of Godhood, aided by his siblings. Many were drawn to his chaotic ways"

He was helped out a lot by his siblings, likely to the point he would have died if he was alone.

do Narinder's siblings really think Narinder could have attempted to kill leshy after being perhaps monumental in causing his existence?

Part 2: yep.

Narinder says that Shamura "could never handle the multitudes of a being such as I" (paraphrased. I'm lazy.) Which we are to take as a statement on what he wanted to attempt with his power. With the sins of the flesh update however it might not be that simple.

Sup you slithery bastard.

What's key here is listening to how the other bishops talk about Narinder. Leshy refers to him as a heretic, Heket as a monster they chained below, Shamura as a brother and Narinder.

They used the term red crown for him, but with the notion of it's own independence Kallamar becomes the most relevant.

Kallamar: "Shamura, the Red Crown grows stronger by the day. Already it has succeeded where he has failed before. Leshy has been slain!"

There's a collective understanding of who "he" is. Narinder. But it is interesting that Kallamar never directly uses the term to refer to Narinder, only using pronouns. Isn't the vessel's success Narinder's success? This makes it sound like the red crown is an entity of its own, succeeding where Narinder failed, at least in Kallamar's mind.

It should be noted that Kallamar doesn't refer to you as the red crown during the events of the game. You are the vessel of it. Then when he needs to insult you, critter, beast. Then as a final plea, lamb. Before that however, after he figures out you arent leaving he tries to bargin with the crown directly.

It seems you cannot be stopped by disease or hunger. And he sends you back from death stronger each time. Please know, it was not my idea to cast out the Red Crown! The other Bishops, my siblings, the blame lies with them. Please, I beg you, spare me. Kill Shamura, but do not send me to my death. Do not send me to him!

Then finally, in post game, likely before seeing Kallamar again, when you have gathered enough sin the seller will ask you:

"I have dealt with Gods, and often pondered; does the Bearer wear the Crown, Or the Crown the Bearer?"

"Stay back! Stay away! Mercy, Red Crown, mercy..."

Of course once you have him as s follower and he realises you are not walking puppet for damnation personified he chills out.

According to the seller "Foolish though he may have seemed, he wielded the power of his Crown without discrimination." Meaning Kallamar might have the most experience with how screwy the crown may be on the minds of followers, and potentially gods if Chemach is anything to go by.

In this sense Kallamar might be the only one who believes Narinder to be innocent- in the sense that he was not in his right mind when he did whatever it was that made the bishops think he was trying to kill leshy- imagining him to be under some kind hypnosis, unable to tell friend from foe. So he always separates the two just in case. That being said, the need to imprison him for was probably encouraged by him.

Of course this all relies on the "he" mentioned being Narinder and not like Ratau or something. Kallamar does know him by name, weirdly enough. "Your friend Ratau was the last vessel sent against us," which begs the much funnier question that how does he know his name? Did they talk? Did Ratau just scream an introduction before every fight? Presumably that was decades ago Kallamar how do you even remember?

Not the worst ship I've seen.

All fun aside, some of Heket's lines can also be interpreted this way.

Heket: "So it is true. The Red Crown sits upon the brow of another."

"The Bishops… my family. Have they not suffered enough? Have I not suffered enough? We fought, pathetic vessel. We bled. We grieved. And yet the Red Crown wants more. No more."

"Pathetic, sniveling, vile puppet to the Red Crown. You have felled the youngest of us. We are the Bishops of the Old Faith. We protect against heresies such as yours. /....We will not tolerate such blasphemy. Your sins are many, and for that y... "

"You there, vessel of the Red Crown! Bow to me, or you will regret it!"

"It was not so long ago that we cast out the Red Crown. A mere thousand or so years. The heresy it preached could not be tolerated. Such noxious ideals... it could not be allowed. For this most damning of sins_"

The mention of sins and heresy is interesting because more less or we just got here. There's the idea that the crown itself is heretical, perhaps not just as a symbol. Since you know, it tells us to gather sin. But of course, in typical play you have murdered her followers in at least four crusades against Leshy then her so, plenty of heresy and sin there.

Theres no much we can gleam about Narinder's actions, but her dialogue suggests her battle with Narinder stemmed from what he wanted to accomplish/his vision for the future, rather than any attempts on Leshy's life- at least not directly- and considering Narinder says "Heket's words were more toxic and foul than the mushrooms that grew in her domain." I think they may have fought over policy and doctrine a lot. After all, nothing would be so wounding to Narinder than himself to be wrong and someone else to be right.

He calls her "arrogant" but Haro called her "temperamental". The two may not conflict, since haro also says she's "afeared by none" which is to say scared by nothing, not that in her rule nobody was scared of her. The seller calls her "vicious" and a "wicked beast", but also amusing in a way, which I'm more inclined to believe is him saying she was annoyingly persistent in trying to get past him into his portal thing than any form of true disdain. Then again she might have just eaten the god tears to see what they do instead of trading them. So many fun possibilities.

That being said, how do we reconcile Kallamar's belief that Narinder tried to kill Leshy with Heket's main complaint being his ideas?

Shamura.

Part 3: the tl;dr.

Shamura introduced Narinder to change, but according to Haro this should have been something he already knew from being around his siblings since their domains "transpose". Famine: feed. Plague: cure. War: peace. Chaos: order. So this has to be something different.

Shamura's domain used to be knowledge but now she is known for war. Her aspect changed, and it's likely this is what she means.

Narinder wanted to change Leshy's aspect. It would solve all his problems, allowing his other siblings to experiment instead of just stamping out anything new. Once he was set on his course Shamura couldn't stop him.

If leshy was already struggling and tried listening to Narinder and changing how everyone saw him, already having issues with cult management, this could have killed him. A god is nothing without followers. If Narinder started his plan without letting Leshy know, it definitely could have killed him.

The plan would require everyone's cooperation to work, rituals rewritten and spreading word of the change fast enough to keep it from being changed back. Shamura would have argued against it, noting issues that if brushed off by nari would set off Heket and they'd argue viciously, probably about Narinder's character and how callous ignoring the risks are. If Kallamar was put on the spot, already being a cowardly person he wouldn't be of any help. And the fight would continue.

It's possible leshy would have tried it just to stop his siblings, and done catastrophic damage to himself. After all, he's the only one who is said to eat the sacrifices directly. It's possible whatever happened forced him to need to eat food, something the gods usually don't bother with.

This would have cemented his belief in the rules as they are now, instead of however lax he may have been before. He may have liked the mushroomos or learning to make plant people before then and might have been the only one who was interested in what Narinder was doing and not trying to stop it.

You may think yourself righteous in your service to HIM. But you should not be so trusting of the Chained One.

He's the only one to comment on how your quest could be perceived as the right thing to do. He's been there himself and suffered for it.

Even so, Camellia still grows in the dark woods. They are the flowers that grow around any red crown rooms you may find, making them explicitly tied to Narinder.

And with Narinder's inability to celebrate his demise....

They couldn't quite bring themselves to hate the other.

[graspingremlinhands]

So @milk-powrit asked me to draft why I didn't like GxK, to which I decide to oblige.

DISCLAIMER: Those are my personal opinions; of a fan of Monsterverse since 2014 and a nobody with any competence in analyzing media, save some common sense and maybe rudimentals??

Also I already hugely disliked Godzilla vs Kong so my discontent had a part in how I enjoyed the movie.

To conclude English is not my first langauge and even in my langauge, debate is not one of my strenght.

Spoilers alert; so skip or I kindly suggest to block the tag: Godzilla x Kong spoiler.

Let's start with the first thing: I don't enjoy how the tone of the movie shifted so drastically from Kotm to GvsK.

In this post, a youtube user explained better than me why the shifting tone felt like a downgrade. If in Godzilla (2014) Godzilla was introduced by hearing his foot stomping on the ground. It was heavy, massive, it reverbered on the glass of the airport. It felt natural, realistic. How a creature that BIG would move in the real world.

As the user said Realistic =/= Seriousness. Godzilla can be goofy. But Monsterverse!Goji was estabilished in a setting, that was the real world.

In both GvsK and in GxK Godzilla does not feels natural. Was necessary for Godzilla to evolve, to be more nimble, when already in GvsK was already moving in a way unnatural?

Or pulling the 0 gravity fight? What purpose had the evolution, if in the end it was not even necessary. Had really improved his fighting skills? They were the same, on earth and in the hollow earth.

2 reason: I've seen around posts about how media litteracy has gone bad; in some ways about people can no longer sospend their belief and calls anything a plot-hole.

But I think that one thing is suspending the belief but another is the director of the movie making the plot moving from point A to point B without telling the audience how.

For example: Suspension of belief: They had the Beast Glove ready to use, because Monarch was already working on it ✅

But why Jia is the chosen one of the day? How the Iwi in hollow earth knew of Skull island? How the shard to control Shimo works? Why Godzilla would respond to the distress call of the people who fought against him? Why Mothra has a connection to the iwi, in particular. Since in Kong: skull island there's no reference to her? How Jia flew back on Earth with Mothra, without dying for the gravitational pull?.

Not everything has to be the viewer's guess that's what I'm saying.

3 point: Shimo and Skar King are as much wasted potential as it was MechaGodzilla was in GvsK.

Skar is menacing yes, has the ability and dexterity of a formidable foe. He's vile and disgusting, oppressing his clan (let's call it that) and he's even an abusive father. All of these things: but as a villain he's really that dangerous?

He was introduced as this terrible tyrant, a danger to the world. And he wasn't even trying to go on Earth; he went up by accident basically. Because the Iwi had to play with gravity. Or should I believe him, forcing his subordinate moving rocks was to build a staircase to the upside?

And Shimo, sweet girl. She looks so horrible. Her white scales don't blend in for anything. Like she was photoshopped last minute. Her powers do damage I see. But her being presented as one or The first Titan do actually mean something to the plot, to the character? Or a simple red-herring to made her more interesting than she actually is?

Because at the end of the day SHE IS A PET!!

"Oh Kong now has found a mate, so cute". My brothers on earth, she goes on four, is used as a mount the all time and she kept panting the whole time. That's a pet, the old dog you have to force inside when it snows.

It was pretty disappointing.

Last but not least the reason I personally dislike Wingard take on the Monsterverse, which is the point you could probably throw away all my arguments, compelling or not because it's really a ME issue, who don't think no one'd agree and I don't blame anybody for it.

I HATE HOW WINGARD DECIDED TO PORTRAY GODZILLA.

I don't hold nothing over him for having Kong as his favorite. That's personal taste, I respect it.

But when it comes to at the expense of the other protagonist, it rubs me so in the wrong way.

On this point I don't know if I want to discuss it further, but boy I do have to complain on this topic.

To summarize I'm mad Godzilla doesn't get to have the same introspection and grace is allowed to Kong, knowing he can to (if you read the Dominion comic. But since they are only distributed in the US not many does. OR should care about it. Cause I'm first a supporter of the idea that if a media is not capable to give all the informations in like the Movie, you the audience should not have to pay for more. So basically the Novelitation are cool but also a scam)

That's all I had to say about it.

Hoping any of this uphere is comprehensible. If in the end I only sound like a rambling idiot I accept it. This movie is too stupid to be too mad about it.

I'll just ignore it

[tidbit-fanfic]

A/N: Finally finished this based off of a dream I had once upon a time. As always I do not own any named characters in this, except for the “reader”. Set in season 11, although Reader and Dean’s relationship has been well established before that. 

TW: no HEA, cannon level violence, swearing/language, kinda OOC!Dean, unhealthy coping mechanisms, implied smut (not explicit), blood (mentioned), spoilers for season 11, one use of y/n

I met the Winchesters after my college roommate passed away under unnatural circumstances. To make a long story short, a demon had decided that a college campus was the best place to set up shop, and nearly half of my dorm was harmed in the process. I did my best to help, despite having very little knowledge of such creatures, but I was willing to help. From that point on, I became a powerful ally to the brothers, and a formidable foe to the supernatural.

After Bobby’s death I stepped up full-time, becoming their go-to researcher for anything they were facing. Life was going fine, helping with research the best I could, working in the background against the Leviathan. 

Time blurred together, from helping the boys with the trials,fighting Metatron alongside Castiel, and along the way, something bloomed in between me and the eldest Winchester. What started as friendly teasing and taunting, morphed into actual flirting and soon enough, physical touch was involved. We were great, always backing the other when needed, even when the Mark of Cain became a third wheel in our relationship. Throughout it all, I stood beside him, forever and always. 

I waited for the boys at the hospital, standing on the steps as they helped Jenna out of the Impala. After helping them get her into a wheelchair, I checked them over, finding that there was no visible damage done to the brothers; the sheriff, however, was holding onto her side, her shirt covered in fresh blood. She tensed upon seeing me, her free hand inching toward her gun. I held my hands up in a defensive manner, intending to show no harm.“Normally, I’m the one grabbing the gun when approached.”

“Show us your neck.”

I furrow my brows, looking from her to the boys. Dean nods, and I reach down, pulling the collar of the turtle neck down. “Satisfied? Or do I need to conjure up a hickey or two?”

  Jenna relaxed, trying to look past me into the hospital. Dean grabbed my arm, dragging me just out of earshot of the other two. “I thought I told you not to worry about it.”

“Right, right, because that’s what you would do.”

“No, it’s just,” he ran his hand through his hair, huffing out air. “You know how I feel about you searching for trouble.” 

I snorted. “Honey, you’re all the trouble I need. But, I get it. My big, scary boyfriend is worried about me. Even though he knows how I can handle myself perfectly fine.” 

Dean opened his mouth, just as Sam interrupted. “What’s the state of the hospital? Where is everyone?”

“Dead. No pulse whatsoever.” Sam’s eyes took on a saddened glaze. I cocked my head towards the door, searching for an exit from the conversation. “Let’s get Sheriff Callie fixed-up then, shall we?”

All of us cautiously made our way into the hospital, wary of the chance of a rabid attacking at any point. The halls seemed way too quiet, the sounds of our beating hearts the only noise our ears intercepted. When we reached the exam room, Sam dismissed himself, searching for antibiotics for Jenna. Meanwhile, I stood to the side as Dean stitched the sheriff’s wound closed, watching the meticulous way he tended to her. Dean finished with his work, helping her down from the table, turning to me after. I crossed my arms, watching as he unrolled his sleeves. I looked to the sheriff, nodding to the room behind me. “There’s a comfortable chair in there, you should probably take a little break.”

“I’m fine.”

“You lost a lot of blood, I’m guessing?” I raised a brow as she looked away. “There’s some juice in the mini fridge and a couple granola bars in the lower drawer. Eat up, we don't need you passing out on us.”

She sighed, following my instructions and shuffled into the office. I shut the door behind her, regaining my composure before turning back to Dean. He busied himself with cleaning the area, avoiding eye contact with me.

“Are we going to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“You know what.” I huffed, hoisting myself up onto the table next to him. “About you running away, and then suddenly there’s a code red in the area you distinctly were in? Oh, and how about the fact that you told your brother to take care of me? The girl you are in a relationship with?”

“Are we going to address you going against my specific orders to stay put?”

“God damnit, I was worried about you! You went to get yourself killed and didn’t even think to tell me goodbye in person!” I slammed my hand down onto the table, leaning into his face. “I swear sometimes I don’t recognize you anymore. Mark or not.”

He glared at me, irritated with the invasion of his personal space. “Maybe that’s because I’m not who I was.”

“Yeah, go figure.”

“No, you don’t get it. The Mark—”

“Fuck the Mark. You’re Dean Winchester. The Dean Winchester. Even Hell trembles in the mention of your name. A stupid ass curse is the last thing I would expect to break you down.”

His jaw ticks as he looks to the ceiling, probably sending off a prayer to Cas for some sort of strength, to deal with me. “I am not the person I was before.”

“No, you're not. And you know what? That’s fine. We’ve been through worse than a fucking personality change. Shit, I ran from a demon you with a goddamn hammer in your hand. I’m sure if that didn’t turn me off from you, then nothing can.” I pushed the bag to the side, sliding over so I was in front of him. I reached my hand out, cupping his face as I looked deep into those emerald green eyes. “I’m in this till the end, you hear me? Forever and always.”

“Forever and always.” He sighs, pushing his face into my palm, before pulling me into an embrace. I wrap my arms around him, breathing in the scent that is so distinctly Dean, when Sam enters with a man holding a child. I pull away, eying the new editions to the room. 

“Sorry for interrupting, but we have company. I found them hiding from one of the infected.” Sam rushes out, nodding to the father. 

Jenna opens the door, joining us again, looking much better with the nutrients in her system. A look of recognition crossing her features. “Mike? Where’s…”

“She’s gone.” The father, Mike, looked down to the child, an expression of grief taking over his features. I slide off the table, pushing Dean back, crossing to him. The sheriff joins us, murmuring her condolences to Mike, who rocks his baby slightly. I step back, allowing the friends space as I check in with the brothers. Sam nods towards the father, the black veins creeping from the man's neck. Dean clears his throat, returning our attention. “We need to kill him.” 

“No, we don’t.” Sam states, exasperated with his blood.

“What are our other options then, because I don’t see many.” 

“There has to be some other way,” I reason, “he has a newborn, we shouldn’t even consider that.”

Sam backs me. “That’s true. This infection seems to have a time frame, the rabid in the hall, just died after some time. Maybe we have to wait it out.”

“Wait it out so he can attack us like the rest of us? No Sam, I can't let that happen.” 

I turn back to our company, not wanting to continue with this argument.  

Noticing the child fussing, I walk over, directly to the father. “May I?”

He nods, handing me the baby and I look down at her, cooing and rocking her in an attempt to calm her. Mike watches closely, ensuring his child's safety, and an ache rises in my chest at the action. Sam joins us, ignoring the child held in my arms. “We have a plan.”

“You have a plan, my plan was to kill him.”

“Dean.” I shoot him a glare, reminding him he is in the presence of the very person he wants to kill. He throws his hands up as Mike chimes in. 

“No, he’s right, it’s only a matter of time before I attack you all. I’ll leave, distance myself from you and wait out the time period.”

“What? No. What is she going to do without you, her father?” I hold her tighter to my chest, the ache returning. 

“Jenna? Will you take care of her for me? I’ll go wait out the infection and…” He rubs the baby's head, turning to the sheriff. Jenna nods, and holds her arms out for the child. I transfer the child to her arms, going to tuck myself into Dean’s side, his arm looping around my waist. 

“What’s the plan?”

We were stopped at a gas station, Dean calling Sam while Jenna took Amara in to change her. I sat in the backseat, the door open as Dean stood nearby, Sam on speaker. “Everything is going fine here. Really.” 

“Are you sure, because we can come back in a heartbeat.”

“No, you guys make sure Jenna and the baby make it to her grandmother’s, don’t worry about me, I can handle myself.” 

Dean hands me the phone as he heads inside, leaving me with Sam. “You’re one hundred percent sure that you don’t need us?’

A sigh echoes from the other end. “Honestly, no. I caught it, the infection.”

“Sam.” My throat swells. “We’re coming back, right after—”

“No! Just, don’t tell Dean.”

“Fine. I’m not going to lie to him though. And Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“You better use that big brain of yours to find a cure, I’m not looking forward to Dean trying to sell his soul again.”

“Promise me you’ll stop him from doing anything stupid. No matter the outcome.” 

“You know I can’t promise that.”

“Promise.”

I sigh, closing my eyes as the worry begins to creep in. “I promise.”

“Good. Now get Jenna to her grandmother’s, and I’ll see you both later.”

“Right. Bye Sammy.” 

He hangs up just as Dean returns, leaning against Baby. “Did he say anything to you?” 

I shook my head, picking at my nails. “Nothing he didn’t tell you.”

He scrubs his hand in his hair, looking up to the sky. “I hate leaving him behind in a hotspot.”

“I know you do, but this was his idea, he wouldn’t have said anything if he wasn’t confident in his abilities.” 

“You’re right, but I still can’t not worry about him.”

I stood up in front of him, tucking my hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I didn’t want to leave him either, but we have to respect his decisions. Right?”

He lets out a sigh, his hands slipping into the back pockets of my jeans as our foreheads meet. “You’re right. I still hate it though.”

“That’s fair. For now, we need to get those two to somewhere safe, then we can speed back to him, okay?”

He lets out a sound of affirmation before pulling away from me, just as Jenna returns. We all climb back into Baby, heading off to the safe house. 

“Do you think they’ll be fine?” 

Dean’s eyes flicker over to me, returning to the road before answering. “I think so. Might be hard to explain a few years down the road, but that’s not our problem.” 

I nod, watching the fields pass the window as we make out way back to the hospital. Suddenly, Dean’s cell rings, flashing Jenna’s name across the caller ID. He answers it as usual, muttering some responses before whipping the Impala around. “Change of plans sweetheart, we’ve got some other things to attend to.”

We get out at Jenna’s grandmother’s, meeting her at the end of the driveway. “I’m sorry for calling, it’s just, this is crazy. Also, I apologize ahead of time, my grandmother’s a big religious person.”

We enter the house, coming face first with the king of hell dressed as a priest. “Crowley?”

“Hello dears. About time you joined us.”

“So what the hell is happening here, Father?”

“Well, the same thing you were called for apparently, I have some connections, so when an exorcism is called in, I get called in.” Crowley shrugs, as if this isn’t the biggest news.

“Still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“I was called in about some sort of demon possession. But, whatever thing is in there, it isn’t mine…it’s darker, more powerful.”

“What do you think it is?”

“If I knew, I would have told you wouldn’t I?” He scoffs, watching as I turn back to the house, going to approach it, before a scream rips through the air. I whip my head to the two of them, eyes widening before we all rush inside, guns drawn. 

Inside, we find the grandmother lying in a pool of her own blood, Jenna nowhere to be found. I shoot a glare at Crowley, who stands to the side, thoroughly unimpressed. The two go upstairs,checking the rest of the house while leaving me with the corpse. “Sorry grandma, but we have to figure this out.”

I check the first floor, finding a sheet, which I lay over her body, out of pure respect. A smash sounds from the second floor, and soon enough Dean comes rushing down the stairs. “They're gone.” 

A few weeks later, I stand at the end of a table, looking in disbelief at the brothers. “Cas is Lucifer, Sam died again, but not really, so you overdosed in hopes of saving him?” 

Sam flinches, avoiding looking at me, while Dean shrugs. “I did what I needed to.”

“By killing yourself?! What if it didn’t work?! What if you actually died? Did you forget you have a vengeful reaper dying to sink her teeth into you?!” 

Dean shrugs, continuing to sip at his beer. 

“And he shrugs. What the fuck has gotten into you? Ever since the church case you've been acting like a total ass.”

Sam looks at his brother, then to me, before excusing himself from the room. I sit in the spot he left, directly across from Dean. “What’s wrong? You’ve been distant since this whole Amara thing began. Is it something with her? Cas?”

He scoffs, peeling at the label on the bottle in front of him, avoiding eye contact. I grab the bottle, reaching for his hand. He pulls it away, glaring at me. “Maybe it’s you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Maybe it’s you. Maybe you're the issue.”

“Me? How the hell am I the issue? I haven't seen you since dropping off Amara and Jenna. You’re acting like a total ass to me, and yet I’m the problem?”

He stands up, his palms pressing flat to the table, turning to leave for his room.

“Fine, how do I fix this?”

“You don’t.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t fix it.”

“Whatever it is we can fix—”

“We cannot fix anything. There’s nothing to fix between us, not anymore.” He pushes off the table, running a hand through his hair.

My voice begins to tremble, a lump forming in my throat. “What? What do you mean there’s nothing? We’re—”

“There is no we anymore!” He whirls around towards me, a look of pure annoyance painted over his features.

“I’m sorry, but it sounds like you’re trying to break up with me? Which can’t be true.” I stand up, the chair screeching against the floor in my urgency. “Unless it is.”

“It is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I kissed her. And I liked it. She’s been on my mind anytime I’m with you. Shit, I had to force Sam to promise he wouldn’t tell you. But us? This is done.”

“Wait, who are we talking about? There’s another girl?!” I shouted, tears forming in my eyes.

“Amara.”

“The baby?! The fucking one-month old?! You’re leaving me for her?!”

“Yes!”

“This is why you've been distant. God I’m so stupid. Forever and always my ass.” I wrap my arms around myself. “You know what, fuck this.”

Dean stood there, his back turned to me. I reached up, snapping the chain that once laid delicately around my neck. The silver pendant dangled gently from the ruined piece. I threw it on the table. “Fuck you. And fuck your girl toy. Don’t you dare come asking for my forgiveness when she destroys everything you love. If you are even capable of that.” 

I pivoted, heading to my room, locking the door behind me, not bothering to glance at him again. I rip the photos of us off the wall, tossing them in the trash bin. I hesitate with the first one, the one Sam took of us leaning into one another, passed out in the front seat of Baby. The day we first said the words. A single tear landed on it as I pulled my lighter out of my pocket, lighting the corner on fire before dropping it into the bin with the rest.

I hauled my bag over my shoulder, walking into the garage where my 1977 Chevy Camaro sat, unused since I began running with the brothers. Specifically since Dean. I threw my bag in the backseat, starting the engine and leaving behind what once was my home. Where my heart could no longer stay.  

Sam’s call lit up the darkened hotel room for the fifth time tonight. Not to mention Cas’s numerous calls and voicemails sitting in the inbox waiting to be opened. Yet not a single one from him. I turned my phone over, standing on shaky legs as I made my way to the en suite. I flicked on the fluorescent light, coming face to face with a ghastly image. My eyes were rimmed in red, the deep purple bags making the red so much brighter. Tear stains lined my cheeks, my hair thrown up in a knot, curled in on itself in a mirror image of my stomach. And the irises that one shone bright with life, were fogged over, dull. Dean’s ring sat on the ledge of the sink, mocking me. The ring he gave me that first hunt they went on without me. The promise echoing in my ears. 

“Wear this. It’s my guarantee to return to you, always.”

“For forever.”

“For forever and always.” His lips brushed my forehead, settling the ring on my forefinger, it wouldn't fit on the rest. “Forever and always, princess.”

He returned from that hunt with a nasty cut on his cheek, and a funny limp in his right leg, but he returned. And he always did from that point on, forever. 

“Fuck forever and always.”

I wake up with hair in my mouth, a raging headache thriving between my ears. I groan, moving to sit up, but held back by a heavily muscled arm around my waist. I look over my shoulder, coming face to face with a dark haired man. His deep breaths indicate he’s still sleeping, and the sticky feeling between my thighs reveals exactly what happened after the alcohol hit my system. My phone buzzes on the nightstand beside me, an unknown number calling me. I pick it up, grumbling choice words as I answer.“Who the hell is this?”

“Hello darling. Didya have a nice night?”

“Crowley,” I throw the stranger’s arm off me, getting out of bed and search for my clothes. “to what do I owe the honor?”

“Your man and his sibling have called me in, we have a lead on how to get rid of Amara.” 

“No.”

“I know you and him had a fallout, darling, we can’t do this on our own. So I suggest you get your freshly screwed buttocks to the bunker, asap.” The dead tone rang through my ear, and then through the air as my phone crashed into the wall. I yanked on my converse, mumbling towards my companion. 

“Goddamn Winchesters and their goddamn saving the earth. Look, I have to leave, just return the key to the desk when you leave, and thanks for last night…” I shrugged on my jacket, grabbing my keys and reaching for the door knob. The mystery man goes to speak, having been woken up by our conversation, but I ignore him, closing the door behind me. 

Crowley meets me the second I pull up to the building, a knowing smile displayed on his face. “So, where’s the lucky man now?”

I flip him off, walking inside. I’m greeted by Sam pulling me into a hug, a muddled kiss place in my hair. He pulled away, checking me for any signs of distress. “Are you okay?” 

I nod, glancing around the room, finding Cas, well, Lucifer, Rowena, an individual I didn’t recognize, plus Metatron. I scan the room, looking for the person I least want to see. The door opened behind me, and in walks Dean Winchester, looking like hell warmed over. My breath caught and I swayed into Sam, going lightheaded. He wrapped his arm around me protectively as Dean approached us. “Y/n. Look I’m—”

“Don’t.” Sam growls towards his brother. “They’re here to help us, not for an apology from you.”

“I’m just trying—”

“No, Dean. You don’t get to try anything. They will decide when you get to talk to them. Got it?” 

The unknown individual cleared his throat, directing our attention to the plan. I felt Dean’s eyes burning into my side, and then they snapped to Sam, when the announcement of who Mark would go to. I turned to look up at him, fear clinging to my ribs.“Sam? You can’t.”

“We didn’t talk about this. You can’t, it’s mine to bear.”

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you would freak out like this.”

I grabbed Sam’s bicep, dragging his attention to me. “Do you know what you are agreeing to?” 

He nods, dragging me closer to him. “I have to do it, you know I do.”

I let him go, looking at Dean, our eyes locking. I can see the pain he’s trying to hide, the anger, the worry, all for his brother. I return my gaze to the big man, resisting the urge to comfort him. “Well then, let’s get this show on the road, shall we.” 

The door opens, a beaten woman dragging herself in. Her dark eyes flicker around the room, landing on me, front and center. My breath catches in my throat, her beauty striking me. I swallow visibly, my eyes dragging down her body, before returning to hers. She straightens up, a smirk crossing her face. “Who are you?”

“I’m, I’m no one important.” 

Lucifer impales her from behind, as Chuck steps around me, looking down at his sister. They exchange words, before Amara stands up, throwing the rest of us every which way. My head slams against concrete, the world dissolving behind my eyelids. 

When my eyelids flutter open, I’m in a smokey void, with only Amara in front of me. I step forward, reaching for my knife hidden away in my jacket, only to find it missing. She lets out a laugh. “So you were the one who once owned the heart of my Winchester?”

“Your Winchester?” I let out a laugh. 

She tilts her head, smiling at me. “Right, you both are dating, aren’t you? I might just have to steal him from you. Oh wait, I already have.” She leans in closer, running her nose up my neck, stopping when her breath tickles my ear. “Or I could make you watch as I bind our souls together for eternity. What was the phrase you used? Forever and always.”

“You—”

“Careful what you say to me. I could end your life with the snap of my fingers.” Her smile drops, her hand wrapping around my neck. I grit my teeth together, hissing out my next words. “Do it then, you bitch.”

My body gets thrown backwards, hitting an invisible wall. She tsks at me, her face holding no emotion. “No, no. I’d rather keep you alive. Force you to watch Dean leave you over and over again until the universe ends. Keep you in a little glass cage, as a pet.” 

“You’re sick.” Amara throws her head back, letting out a laugh. 

“Perhaps I am, but are you much better?” 

I glare at her, silently cussing out Chuck for letting this happen. She takes my head into her hands, her eyes locked on my lips. “Nothing? I thought so.” She twists my head violently to the side, and the void disappears. 

My eyes snap open, lungs panting for air as green floods my vision. I sit up, pushing Dean back from me, as Cas stands up. Sam is crouching next to Chuck, helping him sit up, his complexion pale. Cas speaks up, his monotonous voice returned. “You were out for a while. I couldn’t find your soul.”

“Thank you Cas. It’s great to have you back.”

Dean opens his mouth, going to say something when Rowena bursts through the doors.

“You all need to come see this. We have a wee bit of a problem.”

A month had passed since then, and I was thrown into saving the world yet again. Collecting souls to build a spirit bomb, Dean gave up on attempting to talk to me, his brother my guard dog. Saying goodbye to the only man I’ve loved, just for him to remain alive, returning with his mother. Saving Sam from the crazy Brits, and so much more. I moved back into the bunker, much to Mary’s insistence: “The boys need you, as much as they don’t want to admit it.” 

I hid in my room, only coming out for the necessities, to share research I found, basically avoiding Dean. Unfortunately, he eventually caught up during one of my necessity runs. I felt confined as he barred my escape route. 

“We need to talk.”

“We are, aren't we?” I shook his hand off my arm, eyes darting to the exit he left unguarded. 

“No, we aren’t, and it’s killing me.” 

I snorted, “Well, apparently I’m the problem, so distancing myself seems to be the only way to remedy that.”

Dean flinched back, tucking his hands into his pocket as he looked to the floor. “About that, I—”

“No.”

“No?” “No, you don't get to apologize. I’m done Dean. Something in me shattered that day, the day I realized I’m not what you wanted. That I was just convenient for you. And now that there's not another woman pining after you, you want me back. It doesn’t work like that. My answer is no, you do not get a second chance, divine interference or not.” I turned on my heel, rushing back to my room, leaving him

standing there with tears in his eyes matching mine. But, if there's one thing I know about Dean Winchester, it’s that he’ll get over it. 

[lordsovorn]

Horror of Shapes

I am OBSESSED with borders and angles, with the language of shape and form.

There is nothing quite like the admiration I feel for the art of dissecting and then reassembling the core sensory components of different things.

I do not mean cosmetic coatings or costumes. I do not mean stiching together equally recognisable, pure parts, like a griffin or a furry. No, I mean the shapes and borders, the silhoette, the weight, the sound envelope, the motion, all talking directly with your reptile brain - and saying different things. Using the language of recognisable forms - but mixing them to say something new. And more often than not, something disturbing.

Our brains don't like things between categories. If they are absurd enough, that's funny, that's just a combination of normal things - but if the contradicting parts are interwoven properly, that's just... real. A wrong, stressful kind of real that doesn't contradict itself, but rather, contradicts our deeply ingrained sensory and emotional catergories.

So it's not at all surprising that this kind of shape mixing - successful or not - is especially common in horror media.

One shape speaks human, and the other doesn't. And it is moving in your direction.

...

For example.

...

And that's why we're all here - to talk about the Stalker from Amnesia: The Bunker a bit.

(Medium-heavy spoilers for Amnesia: The Bunker)

(I'm discussing in detail the design of THE monster of the game. You'll hardly get a good look at it normally, and I will also inevitably reference its nature a bit. Without any story or gameplay spoilers)

...

When you think of the Beast and its defining shapes, what comes to mind first?

Long, terrifying claws? Rows of needle-like teeth? A twisted, contorted visage, from which a snarl of unprecedented hate emanates?

I think of its neck. I'm in love with that fucked up neck as a subtle, yet powerful design choice. If you're surprised you've never really noticed it - google its model and marvel at the huge, thick, long neck of the Beast.

And think for a moment what it means in terms of silhoette.

...

The unnatural length of the neck is invisible from the front - the direction you're most likely to *really look* at the creature when you are cornered and have to shoot. When it stands up to howl before dashing, it keeps its inflexible neck behind the head as well - but the head appears disjointed and disproportionate, moving in a way it's not supposed to in a humanoid creature.

The Beast is quite front-heavy - with huge claws and massive head. This is only emphasized by the perspective trick at play - the head looks bigger because it is actually closer to you than you think, thanks to the neck.

From the front it looks humanoid, like a monstrous gorilla, standing on its knuckles. But when you look at it from the side, while it crawls along the half-lit corridors, you see just have elongated it is. The neck ruins the humanoid silhouette, breaks the shoulder line, lowers the head and emphasizes the arched back, creating an image of a predatory, confident beast.

But the two bayonets sticking out of its spine disrupt even this image. Of course, you're unlikely to even distinguish that those are bayonets in normal circumstances - it's just two strange spikes, breaking up the smooth line of the predator.

...

The back is different too - it is the least deformed part of the creature. Its legs are almost... normal, in the proportions at least, and it's from this angle that you clearly see the ragged remains of torn clothing on a disturbingly hunched back.

It kind of makes sense that from the least dangerous angle in the gameplay sense, the Beast looks the least threatening. Almost like a big, awkward, miserable human - more comfortable with this part of itself than with the huge claws in the front, but incapable of balancing itself any other way.

...

The claws deserve attention too, as they are the first thing you see as it reaches out from its burrow. They are grotesque in their absurd size, that suggests something huge is about to emerge from this tiny hole.

They are bigger than they have any reason to be - it is very clear how awkward moving with them is, as the Beast constantly switches between full-palm run, knuckle-walk and standing on its two legs.

It is the claws that disrupt the "beast vs human" duality - no beast needs such unwieldy claws that are good only for killing. No beast prowls constantly and leaves dismembered, not eaten corpses. No beast constantly vocalizes its anger and frustration in uncontained growls and hisses as it hunts.

...

Finally, this contradiction is also true for left vs right, as the right half of its face is torn and twisted into an almost crocodile-like form. This lateral assymetry, visible also in its uneven shoulders, sends a very clear message - sickness.

Nature is symmetrical - this monstrocity isn't. It is distinctly not natural - not even in terms of lore, but in terms of basic shape language.

Normally, the game does an exceptional job of hiding the Beast - even when it kills you. This contradiction of unwieldy mass, dangerous length and terrifying speed; of awkwardly human, confidently bestial and sadistically demonic never goes away - precisely because the Beasts' very proportions read differently from different angles.

...

Devs at Frictional seem to have been searching for this image for quite some time. The contradiction of human and unnaturally demonic is visible in the concept art of The Dark Descent, but, I dare say, not in the game itself, where enemies look like wax torture mannequins.

A Machine for Pigs tried to do it more explicitly, but failed to properly bind together the disparate shapes, and instead created ugly furries. SOMA did monster design wonderfully, utilizing the strengths of the engine and avoiding its weaknesses - but, of course, not in THAT way. While Rebirth put the horror of shapes back a bit, focusing on ramifications and pacing.

The Bunker seems to be the culmination of this search - a rather elegant solution, one that must have taken a lot of time to get just right. And in the end it is not just simple - it is persistently hidden.

It is the culmination for Frictional of the art of hiding the monster, while letting the shapes do their thing - speak terror into your mind in the most basic language possible.

[inkangeliguess]

Oh my god, I absolutely LOVE The Nightmare route in Slay The Princess

Spoilers plus long rant under the cut

(@the-local-eldritch-microwave please check out this game i beg of you. It's several hours long but its great)

Ever since I saw a playthrough of the demo, the Voice of The Paranoid was my favorite voice and route. I love stressed out characters in general, but I loved how unsettling it is when you uncontrollably fall asleep and then wake up only to die of fright. The second time you go in was pretty anticlimactic, as basically the same thing happens with only the Paranoid being there and the Narrator being completely confused at your sudden death AND even saying "I'm so sorry"

What makes the updated version so good is the execution. The first part is basically the same, but the second part is so much more intense. Your character just experienced dying of literal fright over someone you first assumed was normal turning out to be an eldritch horror. Story wise, the Voice of The Paranoid makes you feel this with how much of a contrast he is compared to the Narrator and the Voice of The Hero. The Hero gets nervous occasionally, but never to the degree that The Paranoid gets.

This stress only continues when you go inside the cabin. Every second round, the cabin always changes in appearance. What makes the Nightmare route's change more jarring is how mild the change is. For the Razor, the Damsel, and the Captive (the routes i've rewatched so far), the change of the cabin is too extreme, which while it does convey the mood of the route, doesn't have the same effect as the Nightmare. The room itself seems to 'perfect,' with the most obvious difference being the wider door frame and overall lack of door. The subtle change plus the Paranoid's overall mood keeps the player on edge.

Things start ramping up once you get to the stairs, which don't even try to be subtle with its attempt to hide the overall unnatural feel of the cabin. Then it hits you with the reveal that you are stuck. You can't go back. You can only go forward and confront the inhumane Princess.

You're finally in the basement, which does a fantastic job of conveying the idea that once again, you're stuck. You do not have an actual choice in the matter. No matter which way you go, you are going to be hunted down by this creature and you will most likely be killed.

The moment of truth happens and you finally confront the Princess. While she was unsettling in the first chapter, her appearances have been completely twisted. Her limbs bend irregularly, her face is cracked and shaded in a way that makes it look like it's not even her actual face, her appearance constantly flickers and looms over you, giving you the feeling that you have no power over her, weapon or no weapon.

Finally, you start talking to her. She almost kills you again, until the Paranoid suddenly, without explanation, starts mumbling "Heat. Lungs. Liver. Nerves" over and over. You don't even have time to question it, because it somehow is keeping you alive, but barely. If you choose to talk to her with all the 'Explore' dialogues, her unsettling demeanor never wavers. The conversation feels realistic, with certain actions causing the Paranoid to start panicking and chanting desperately.

The last thing i'll point out about Chapter 2 is that the Hero and the Narrator hardly talk. It's as if they themselves are frightened of the entire situation. That is until she pulls off her mask. You don't get to see what she looks like, but the Narrator's description is more than enough to give it its effect.

Then there's the artstyle change. I originally thought it was just to convey you dying again, but it really changes the name of the Route. The Narrator's description and the visuals give the idea that this may not only be your nightmare. The Princess is most likely suffering as well.

Then after all of that, THE NARRATOR HIMSELF GIVES UP. You are left in a state of not being sure whether you're dead, but your mind has clearly given out.

We then move on to chapter.. uh... "The Moment of Clarity." You wake up, and for once, everything genuinely feels wrong. One could argue that in The Arms Race and Mutually Assured Destruction turned everything on the head by adding pretty much all the voices, but everything is thrown off in The Moment of Clarity. You're not even in the woods, or in the cabin for that matter, you're somewhere else. It's a place that vaguely feels like the woods, but it isn't. On top of that, the Voices can't remember what happened very well. Their memory isnt completely wiped, but the fact they have trouble remembering at all is completely new.

Not only do the voices not remember what happened, pretty much all the voices are talking now. With all their contradicting personalities, it's unclear what the truth is. The timeline is everywhere, the Narrator is no help, and there is still no feeling of safety.

"Maybe you're shattered in your own way." OH MY GOD THAT LINE ABSOLUTELY SLAYS ME (no pun intended). Even if it's swept under the rug by the other voices "not being philosophical," considering the stakes of the route, it just messes with me

My one complaint is the Voice of the Smitten. It's usually funny how down bad he is but it seriously is not fitting for the route at all.

It's interesting how they all consider the Voice of The Cold to be the voice of reason in the moment. In the Narrator's words, all the other voices have been traumatized to the point they can't be talked any sense into. Since the Cold is just so unfeeling, it's pretty much your characters only drive into move on except for maybe the Opportunist.

For once, none of the Voices question the mirror, not because they've accepted that there is no mirror, but because they've accepted that the Narrator thinks there is no mirror. It gives you how much of an idea that the Voices and in extension your character has given up. Hell, the Voice of the Stubborn even tells you to smash it at one point.

Something i havent mentioned much of is the music or sound design, but it really helps give off the atmosphere. In this 'third' chapter, the background music is a ticking clock and a breezy noise you may hear in a quiet room. Paired with the surreal landscape of the black forest and the floating cabin, it further gives off the idea of everything being a dream, or by extension a nightmare.

When you're told to pick up the blade, you're once again stuck. You aren't given any other choice except for the illusion of a choice. Some of the options are even blacked out, saying that 'you've tried everything else. Don't you remember?'

The way she climbs out of the pit. You only see her face at first, then her abnormally long and lanky arms. Then you see her legs, with her bare feet looking like hands, reminding you of a spider or a monkey, but definitely not human. She isn't interrupted once she's in full view, leaving you to stare at her and her outstretched hand and cracked mask.

Remember how I mentioned that in the demo, the Narrator is so shocked by your sudden death that he says 'I'm so sorry.' There is now a complete contrast with this new version. When you take her hand, he ends off his sentence by saying "I can't believe you just made me say that. I hate you." and with full sincerity, not even in a joking or petty manner.

"Why is it so cold?.."

[autistichalsin]

Hi hi,

Your posts recently came to mind for me as I was playing my Durge run. My durge is canonically trying to fight it and be a better person but...well, save scumming is a thing and I wanted to see what happens if I choose to not be a repentant durge but, rather, accept the slayer forn.

My Tav is romancing Halsin. They chose to accept the gift from their father and all the evils that came with it. When you talk to Halsin about it, he went on a long tirade about how unnatural and messed up the slayer form is. That is is nothing but a creature pf murder. He is disgusted and outraged. But even after all that....he didn't break up with my Tav. He lost no approval on his lover agreeing to be an avatar for murder. And I think to your posts about how he doesn't seems to push, stand up for his beliefs, really confront the player for their choices.

I just want Halsin to have a deal breaker, a hardline. It's a spoiler but if you choose this path you have to kill people that Halsin has history with. Why would he do that when his lover has chosen murder over nature/ethical good.

Anyway I hope you're having a lovely day and I'm sorry if I'm interrupting your day. I just....I just need someone who feels Big Feels about Halsin to also just....want so much better for him.

Not interrupting at all!!! I love every ask I get and it makes me so happy that my lil' posts resonate with people!!

And I totally agree. I want Halsin to have a hard line, and I was REALLY hoping that if nothing else, the new post-Drow orgy scene would provide it, where a Lolth Drow can taunt him about his time as a captive- but even that isn't it. He's the ONLY character who has not a single scene where he breaks up with you. (Which is another part of why I think Halsin has hero worship syndrome to the player after they break the Shadow Curse- as deep as his feelings go, there is a HUGE element of "you saved everything I care about, I owe you, I love you" unhealthiness in there, which manifests in him putting you on a pedestal and refusing to leave unless YOU leave him).

It's sad, but fascinating to see from a characterization standpoint.

[stripeysockaccount]

To The End Of The Universe

Pairing: Robin Buckley/ Female Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Tags/Warnings: mild s4 spoilers, and a nice helping of angst.

Summary: You and Robin get trapped in the Upside Down, a swarm of Demo-Bats heading your way. If there's any time to confess a crush, it's now.

Note: This is my first time writing for Stranger Things, and also my first time writing a x reader fic! I hope you enjoy it, and any feedback is very much appreciated. (I was also thinking about a possible sequel if people enjoy this?)

For a moment, neither of you move.

“Where are we?” you ask. If you didn’t know better, you would say you’re still in Hawkins, but that doesn’t make any sense. A glance at your watch confirms that it’s two in the afternoon, but the dark, thundering sky above you doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo.

“Shit,” Robin swears, throwing her hands up in the air. “Shit, shit, shit!”

You raise an eyebrow, putting your hands on your hips. “That’s not a good reaction.”

“No kidding!” she exclaims. 

The sky lights up with lightning, the gray clouds flashing blood-red. The building before you is undoubtedly Hawkin’s High School, but you don’t remember it ever being covered in vines.

It’s hard to tell whether it is the confusion of waking up in a distorted version of a familiar location or the dust floating through the air like snow that is making it hard to breathe, but you don’t like it either way. You’ve seen some crazy things in the past few days, but this is something else entirely. Maybe you’re finally having that mental break that you keep joking about.

Robin doesn’t move, dragging a hand through her short hair before turning to you. “Are you okay?”

You shrug. “I’m pretty confused, but I’m not hurt.”

“Right,” she answers, looking up at the sky. “We… we aren’t safe here.”

“Where is here, exactly?”

A deafening screech echoes around the abandoned parking lot, answering the question for her. You’ve never heard anything like it in your life; there’s no way to describe it other than as inhuman, the noise causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up.

Robin doesn’t waste a second, grabbing your wrist and racing towards the entrance to the school building. “Avoid the vines!” she calls, vaulting over one herself.

By the time you reach the doors, you can see the horrifying outline of some kind of creature in the sky. You raise a hand to block out the unnatural light, trying to get a better look, but Robin pokes you in the arm to get your attention.

“It’s locked!” she yells, rattling the doors. “We’re stuck out here!”

The creature in the sky – it’s hard to comprehend the fact you’re facing a real, actual monster, but it looks like a cross between a stingray and a particularly large bat – is only getting closer, and if you’re not mistaken, there are more on the horizon.

“We’re going to have to fight,” Robin says, turning to you. “We need weapons–”

“The gym shed,” you suggest. “It won’t be locked, and they’ve got all kinds of sports equipment stashed away in there.”

“Brilliant!” Robin grins, grabbing your hand. “Up for some more running?”

It isn’t far to the shed, and just as you predicted, it isn’t locked. You and Robin spill inside, barricading the door behind you. You can’t imagine it will hold for long, but it will be enough for a moment of respite.

Robin rifles through the piles of junk, producing a baseball bat and a croquet mallet. “Who even plays croquet?” she mutters to herself, tossing it to the floor while she continues rummaging.

“Robin,” you say, trying to get her attention. “Robin,” you repeat, grabbing her wrist to force her to look at you.

There are tears shining in her eyes, and you can feel her pulse jumping under her skin. She’s just as terrified as you, but somehow, that’s comforting.

“I have no idea what’s going on,” you admit, “but I have to tell you, I’m so glad we’re in it together.”

Robin lets out a shaky laugh, taking your hand. “Me too. Not that we’re stuck here about to fight a load of demonic bats, but y’know–”

“I’d follow you to the end of the universe, if you asked me.” The words spill out of you without permission, your heart pounding as quickly as Robin’s. Half of you is praying that she doesn’t catch on, so you can go on being best friends, Platonic with a capital P. But the rest of you?

Well, if there’s a time to confess your crush, it’s before you get murdered by the monsters.

“I- Uh.” She swallows, squeezing your hand. “I think you’ve proved that already, since… Well, from what I know, this is the end of the universe.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “What?”

“Yeah, I think we’re sorta in a different dimension, or universe, or whatever. I don’t really understand it myself and I don’t want to ruin your super dramatic statement or anything, but you aren’t far from being right, and I kinda felt like I should confirm that before–”

“Robin,” you interrupt softly. “I think you’re doing the talking thing again.”

“Right.”

You both stare at each other for a long moment. Robin searches your face, looking for a sign, but you have no idea what.

“I think – Well, I know the reason why I talk so much around you.”

“Oh yeah?” you smile.

“I might have a little, tiny, massive, unstoppable crush on you.”

You’re in a different universe, hiding in your shitty high school’s shed. You’re about to fight a load of interdimensional monster-bats with nothing more than a croquet mallet. By all logical reasoning, you should be terrified.

You aren’t.

“I figure now would be a good time to tell you, since we’re about to die and everything–”

You grab Robin around the back of the neck, cutting her off by pressing your lips together. She hesitates for a moment, surprised, before wrapping her arms around your shoulders and kissing back with just as much force.

Maybe there are benefits to what amounts to a death sentence.

“I love you so much,” you say, breaking apart for air. You cup Robin’s face, running a thumb across her cheek to wipe away her tears before her eyeliner starts to run. 

She sniffs, managing a sad smile. “You don’t think we’re gonna make it either.”

“I don’t like our chances,” you admit, “but I’ve never fought demon bats before. Maybe they’re really easy to kill, and we’ll be out of here in a heartbeat.”

Something in Robin’s eyes tells you that your theory is nothing more than a fairytale.

“Either way,” you say, letting go of her so you can lean down and pick up the croquet mallet. “I’m gonna fight like hell.”

A screech rattles the foundations of the shed, deflated basketballs falling off the shelves as the bats begin to dive at the shed.

Robin grabs the baseball bat, testing its weight before grabbing your free hand. She takes a deep breath, nodding once before turning back to you.

“Let’s give them hell,” she declares, and you both face forwards, towards your fate.

[omgkalyppso]

I posted this before but deleted it both because I was embarrassed and because I was worried I'd severely fucked up Astarion's age for the nth time, originally referenced from This Post. But I've seen many more analyses and I think it's right. I think it is. Anyway!

EDIT: I DID GET HIS AGE WRONG because that is the post I meant to reference. But I'm not fixing it. 232.

I was tagged by @luinen-bluewater to complete this far simpler ship meme: otp, ot3/4.

Here is the template I actually used: ot3. Here's the otp version.

I'll tag a few people to complete any of the templates referenced: Luinen, @the-eldritch-it-gay, @vlwv, @tadpole-apocalypse, @boghermit, @lemonbronze, @littleplasticrat and YOU.

I'll put the above image chopped up below the cut so it's easier viewing for the curious. And I'll ramble a bit more (bg3 spoilers, discussion of vampirism and character deaths).

In my headcanons, Astarion neither remains a spawn nor becomes the Vampire Ascendant, he becomes a vampire, and some hundreds of years later he turns Étoile to a vampire as well (this post / these headcanons need reviewing after the epilogue changes with the Crown, but we'll see).

With this in mind, I was thinking of Halsin being the longest of their lovers and how Étoile could possibly handle his death:

Étoile and Astarion occupied on some adventure / business or other, and when they return, an unaffected or perhaps impatient messenger has come to deliver news of Halsin's death. And it is so long after the others of their relevant, initial, adventuring party has passed (or maybe not. Lae'zel is a wild card (no aging on the astral plane)). Still, i can imagine one of them snapping. I think it's more interesting if it's Étoile, saying aloud that the messenger is mistaken, that surely the message is that Halsin's ill and is calling to see them a final time — Astarion's near shouting in embarrassment and worry, telling the messenger to go, calling Étoile's name, grabbing their arm until Étoile says loudly that they heard them. They heard what they said. And also sends the poor messenger away.

But then I started considering an alternative which I felt was ooc for Halsin from the base game but which I think is more possible / within the scope of his character after the addition of the epilogue. Reminder that Étoile is a paladin of the neutral evil goddess Auril, started bg3 as neutral good but whom I consider neutral evil, and is an Oathbreaker by the end of their adventure:

Halsin at like 820 or older, life expectancy 700-1000, veering wildly between peace with the natural order of things and intense discomfort with things that feel unfinished, the way they always do. And sometime with Étoile leaned against his chest he speaks of Silvanus, the Oakfather, of children and elders in all families of creatures have come and gone, of how his druidic order has changed more slowly than a tree spreads its roots, and how never in all that time did Étoile ask him to abandon his god and his (god's) comfort for the sake of vampirism and eternity. Fondly, expecting Halsin to imagine it an irritation after his speech, Étoile recalls that Astarion did, three hundred or so years ago. Étoile points out that they know the comfort they found in their worship, and they would never have sought to steal that from him (Halsin). To be a vampire is unnatural, lost to his Oakfather. Halsin points out that he has felt that Étoile has wanted to ask before, even if it has always remained unsaid, in the emptiness in their chest (lack of heartbeat), in the slant of their mouth when his (Halsin's) movement is broken with age, in how they've (Étoile has) breathed in his silver hair the more it's overcome him, something that felt respectful once, but now he's past where his end should have been, and the temptation of rekindling old strengths, the hope of another thousand years, through vampirism, shames him (Halsin) greatly. The selfishness of an old mind. Why wouldn't it have felt like a possibility a hundred years ago, two hundred, more? How could he dare to think of continuing a protection of his forest, of caring for his kin, if he lost all connection to them, and even fears what makes them the same in their morality so much that he would dare forsake it. If he was going to lose his faith, why wouldn't he have done so when he was younger and different, except that he was stronger then, in body and in mind. And yet what difference would there be, feasting upon the wild in the woods? And Étoile would be blunt about the differences, and about how there are even laws now, that they helped put in place. "They" could punish them both greatly for this, but the transformation itself would be their shared shame. He could be their first spawn, and perhaps their only, but if he wanted this now — that it was no corruption of age, just a changed heart. And they would happily accept him into their home if all beasts and men turned from him as a decree from his Oakfather -- but he would have to be sure, because the fallout could be immeasurable. Étoile would try to do it permissably, but they would turn Halsin in secret, if need be. And what if "they" were like. fucking no???? and to ensure you don't do this thing we're going to keep you sealed, either in an area or in a fucking coffin until your druid has passed. (Astarion would lose his fucking mind.)

Abbreviated:

Halsin: what if i've lived long enough to see myself become the villain. Étoile: well my ship has sailed, and you know, if i meet you in hell then it's not hell

I think though that Halsin's village would have warm, clean shelters under the ground, just below the surface as if to shelter from storms, but well-used and familiar to vampires after years of shared knowledge and resources. They'd be glad to claim him.

OH! And Étoile's birthday is Oct 20th (their date of creation during early access was Oct 20 2020), I gave Astarion Sept 22nd (first day of autumn), and Halsin May 13th (he seems like a Taurus and I figured he'd be worn and irksome about having a birthday that often falls on a day associated with bad luck (Friday the 13th)).

[sky-scribbles]

Some fun facts - and by fun, I mean deeply disturbing - about Ruidus from Call of the Netherdeep, which feel... pertinent, after last episode:

(Spoilers for CotND, obviously - most of it is background info for the module, but I’ve marked all the major ones):

The hero who sacrificied themselves to prevent Marquet’s destruction by the Ruiner was a Ruidus-born hero named Alyxian

Alyxian threw himself before Gruumsh’s spear, and in this moment his ‘connection to Ruidus flared to life,’ tearing open a rift between worlds ‘in which alien energy from an unknown realm’ created an entire plane of existence, the Netherdeep

While Alyxian was in the Netherdeep, his dreams and pain literally shaped the plane around him, and his power and grief took physical form in a substance called Ruidium which slowly corrupts and eventually kills anyone who handles it for more than a few seconds

The Netherdeep is packed with aberrations apparently unique to it

A cult that began worshipping the Ruidium and Alyxian himself gained actual magical power from it

Major, major CotND spoilers for the next ones:  The Netherdeep apparently ‘preyed on’ Alyxian’s more negative emotions, amplifying his selfish side, until the entire plane was effectively an embodiment of his sorrow, fury, and loneliness

When the players fight Alyxian, his creature type has changed to aberration, then changes again to celestial

If the players free Alyxian without helping him with his trauma first, Ruidius flares brightly as Alyxian turns into a storm of shadow that rolls across Exandria. It remains to be a full moon, shining with unnatural brightness, for a year and a day.

Now, Alyxian is also an almost-demigod who was blessed by three Prime Deities, and it’s not clear how much that divine influence amplified or affected all of this fuckery. But let’s look at what we can take away from this:

It was very specifically the fact that Alyxian was Ruidus-born that led to the creation of the Netherdeep. Which, again, is a whole plane of existence.

The Netherdeep is full of ‘alien energy’ and, apparently, alien creatures

Spoilery: The Netherdeep is apparently semi-sentient, and malevolent enough to emotionally torture Alyxian for a thousand years

Majorly spoilery: Being stuck in a realm suffused with this alien energy, constantly dwelling on his own trauma, causes Alyxian to turn into an aberration.

The bad ending is directly linked to Ruidus, and Ruidus seems to gain in power from it.

Tl;dr: what the fuck is the power contained in Ruidus.

[livelaughlaios]

Cannot add to that post as my reasoning got this is filled with spoilers and idk if OP wants them on their post but in my opinion Falin IS the narrative. She very directly EMBODIES the main themes of the story.

She start as a self-sacrifice. This is the type of heroism that Kabru and Toshiro represent and that Laios ends up rejecting, because its not sustainable. "We are more serious than you because we eat well and rest" - it sounds paradoxical, but we have seen how correct he is. They wouldn't have gotten this far had they been skipping meals and dragging themselves beyond the point of exhaustion.

Her first resuscitation is about following one's desires even beyond the limits of what is supposed to be legal or moral. She literally embodies the same wish that will lead Marcella to become dungeon master - having her friends survive the limits of their death.

Then, when she turns into a Chimera, she becomes the embodiment of her brother's desire - but not just that. She is fused with the creature that killed and ate her and that she ate in turn. She is the liminal space between monstrous and human, natural and unnatural. She's the same space the dungeon embodies. She's a formidable magic monster, created with dark ancient magic, but she is killed via her basic, mundane biological needs - food, air. And she's killed by her brother - which is a whole another thing, but here we hone in on the fact that he is the protagonist, and the one whose desire in this moment she embodies - and of course, as her brother, in many ways her mirror.

Then, she literally BECOMES the food, which is the main theme of the story. To eat is to live, to eat is the privilege of the living. She is the meal everyone shares, that brings everyone together. She died twice, and was rebuilt by the bones up by the love of those around her. She bears the marks of the love of Marcella and Laios and everyone else in the form of the dragon's parts left in her body after her final resurrection. The beast who ate her fed those around her, and in consuming her, people brought together by their love for her (directly or indirectly via their debt to Laios) saved her one last time.

Her final appearances in the extra material are about her learning to affirm her wishes. No longer self-sacrificial, she embodies the final moral of the story: to live, we must hunger, and accept we hunger. Consume and accept to be consumed. This is what life is all about.

[inaconstantstateofchange]

i have never known a silence (like the one fallen here)

Summary: An Isami POV of the events of Episodes 1 & 2, exploring the impact of his experiences, and the stark disconnect between Bravern's perception of their genre and Isami's lived reality.

WC: 1000

A/N: No spoilers for later episodes — full fic under the cut for canon-typical depictions of violence.

“You know you’re only making this worse on yourself, right?” The man’s face swam back into view, jovial, sickening. “Damn, you’re a stubborn one.”

He shook his head, leaving afterimages flowing behind it disorientingly. “Ah, well, I get paid by the hour, you know.” A wink, tossed at Isami as much as the man’s fellows.

Isami stared at him blankly, tears running from his eyes and mingling with the snot dripping from his burning nose and the bile flooding his throat. He’d… he’d told the man everything he knew, given him answers to every question. So, why? Why were they still doing this to him?!

His lips parted, rounding with the barest puff of precious air behind them, his vocal chords frozen and unable to serve in the final advance. The man leaned in for a moment, then straightened up again, his eyes curving into a congenial smile. “Ah, see, that was almost something! Just a bit more encouragement oughta do the trick.”

Isami shook his head weakly, trying to focus on filling his lungs through the heaving, desperate gasps. In the end, it proved as futile as every other attempt. The water would force its way relentlessly in, and in, and in, and he would still have nothing to give, nothing to make it stop.

As he sank beneath the surface, a green, grinning face gleamed down at him, callously observing his descent.

—

“... Isami! Isami!”

Isami’s eyes pulled blearily open, refusing to focus for a long moment. Who…?

The blurry figure before him resolved into that American – Smith – and Isami’s heart leapt. He nodded fervently along to whatever the man was saying. He couldn’t hear it properly, but he could grasp enough. Smith was here for him, for Isami. Maybe Isami had finally managed to say the right thing? Maybe he had borne it for long enough to prove he was telling the truth. His mind shied away from the thought of just how long he might have been down here, in this windowless, concrete room.

No matter. No matter. Smith was here for him.

—

The elation lasted for as long as it took Smith to manhandle him into the humvee, and the sounds of doomed combat to mingle with the echoes ringing around Isami’s mind.

Cold waves of sick terror washed over him as he caught sight of the recognizable red and white figure before him, striking a foreboding silhouette against the sky.

They… They wanted him back in that thing?

He scrambled out of the humvee well before Smith had even brought it to a stop, a keening moan scraping its way out from his throat. He tried to make it around the paltry bulwark of the vehicle’s back, but his legs gave out from under him before he had managed more than a few steps. He stared straight ahead, eyes vacant and unseeing, as Smith made some sort of proposal to the thing. Its scraping voice rose in a resonant rejoinder — and then flattened, abrupt. Isami shivered, the sound summoning the sense-memory of metal shearing away from him like paper.

The creature turned back to him, then, the weight of its regard settling upon him like so much stone and rubble. He would be rendered blood and broken bone beneath it soon enough.

Its metal hand swung forward toward him, outstretched, as its voice rang out in booming entreaty. He reacted on reflex, mind dull and sluggish, lifting his own hand to push it away from him, as though his effort could be anything but laughable against its devastating might.

As soon as the skin of his hand touched the unnaturally warm and utterly alien metal, he was back there — and backing away from the burning wreckage of Rio’s TS, her struggles growing weaker as virulent pink subsumed the field and filled their vision.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

“Snap out of it!” He heard to his side, a rustle of starched cloth heralding Smith’s movement. Isami scrabbled back further, away from the both of them, his arms raised above his head in paltry defense. His breath came in heaving gasps, and the clear flow of air – not water this time, not water, not water – did nothing to assuage the tide pulling him under.

He’d been drowning since that first battlefield. The interrogator had merely formalized it.

The – robot – stared down at him for a long moment, the sunlight gleaming menacingly off of its brilliant exterior. Isami was reminded of a quiz the cadets had taken together, to get their minds off of training one day in the mess hall. “Ahhhh, Isami, it says you’re a fox! How cool!” He’d brushed it off then, but perhaps there was something to it, after all. He understood, now, why an animal would bite through its own limbs to escape imprisonment. He’d do more than that to keep himself free of that thing.

In the end, however, foreknowledge and determination proved insufficient to escape the trap a second time. Isami found himself in the same place that this nightmare had crystallized, suspended within an alien chamber, his limbs moving without conscious command, and words he did not know springing to his lips. With flashes of slaughter and devastation at his heels, he withdrew into himself, leaving the fight around him behind. Clearly, his body could manage well enough on its own.

Something pulled taut behind him as he delved — stretched first tenderly, then achingly, and then agonizingly. He did not relent. Anywhere – nowhere – would be better than here, and he pursued oblivion with the determined focus he had made himself known for in every training exercise. At last, at last, he passed some blissful threshold, and the tenuous connection to the world beyond frayed to barest thread, easily ignored.

If that creature wanted his body so badly, Isami supposed it was welcome to it. His mind, however, he would keep right here, for as long as he could manage it.

Forever had a certain ring to it.