#wow i feel like hot garbage!

[lowkeyremi]

WHAT ARE THEIR BEIGE FLAGS? (HCS)

pairing: eren, armin, jean, connie, reiner, bertholdt, levi, erwin, hange, mikasa, sasha, pieck, and annie x fem!reader (separate) summary: things they do that are unusual within your relationship ! content: fluff, little bit of swearing, established relationships (marriage implied for a few), nothing too crazy today just wholesome :3 not proofread! this is all just a silly little thing I thought up, it's not meant to be taken seriously wc: 1.3k

🡆 𝐄. 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑

Eren's beige flag is that when he controls the music in the car he skips at least twenty songs on his playlist before he settles on a song, then one minute into the song he'll skip again.

"Do you want me to play something, 'ren?" You're trying not to laugh at him. He's got a cute little pout on his face.

"Yes please.. I don't wanna crash cuz I can't pick a song."

🡆 𝐀. 𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐓

His beige flag is that whenever he sees a cute stuffed animal he just HAS to buy it. The thing is- he doesn't have enough space for another one. Whenever someone comes over and opens the wrong door a mountain of stuffed animals fall out of the closet.

"Um. [name], are these yours?" Mikasa asks while glancing at the stuffed animals.

"No, those are Armin's." You don't even look up from your phone, which lets Mikasa know this has been going on for some time.

🡆 𝐉. 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍

Jean's beige flag is that he believes microwave food is "making dinner." He'll be like,

"babe I cooked us dinner!! :D"

and on your way to the table you see two microwave spaghetti boxes in the garbage. You don't have the heart to tell him that's not cooking.

"Wow baby, that looks delicious!"

🡆 𝐂. 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑

His beige flag is that he removes the little "crust" part of a pop tart and only eats the part with the icing on it. It's just dry and bland so why eat it? (I do this 😝)

"Hey do any of you want the rest of my pop tart?" You anticipate how weirded out his friends will be when they see what part of the pop tart he's talking about.

"Yeah, let me get the rest." Jean says not paying too much attention. Connie hands him a napkin with the crumbling end pieces.

"Dude what the hell... I thought you meant like a half or something!"

🡆 𝐑. 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐔𝐍

Reiner is too cute. His beige flag is that whenever someone good looking appears on tv or social media he covers his eyes. He doesn't want you to think those women will change his opinion of you and how you look.

"Reiner, baby, you're allowed to look at attractive people and think they look hot. I think people are hot all the time."

"I know but- wait what?"

"You're my number one man obviously but I can't deny when someone is good looking. You don't have to either, because I trust you." He huffs quietly, all this time he had been covering his eyes while you admire other men?

"Wait so you call them hot, but you wouldn't leave me for them, right?" Now's he starting to feel a little insecure.

"Baby, I wouldn't leave you if someone paid me a million dollars."

🡆 𝐁. 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑

His beige flag is that he physically makes a "gulp" sound whenever he's scared or nervous.

"You're gonna do great on that speech today, babe. I believe in you!" Usually your attempts to comfort Bertholdt work but you can tell it's getting to him when he goes,

"Gulp."

"You did it again."

"It's a force of habit, my love." He says scrubbing his face whilst you giggle at him.

🡆 𝐋. 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍

His beige flag is that he's never embarrassed when someone walks in on him or he walks in on someone else. It's his body so why should he care? He thinks people make a big deal out of that for no reason.

When you're in the shower he'll open the door to come use the bathroom or do something else.

"Levi! You scared me." He watches you in the mirror out of the corner of his eye. He has to stop himself from rolling them when you try to cover up your body with your arms.

"Why are you so on edge? I've seen you naked plenty of times, darling."

🡆 𝐄. 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇

His beige flag is he says old outdated phrases on purpose. You're hanging out with him in the living room and he's on the phone with Levi.

You don't care too much about what your husband is saying until he says, "Yeah don't worry about it, Levi. I'll be down there in a jiffy."

"Really, Honey? Jiffy? 😭"

🡆 𝐙. 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄

Their beige flag is that they can't remember your family members' names to save their life. They've just got a lot going on so when you go to your family gatherings they're like,

"Oh- you're- uh... I know it, give me a second!" Hange closes their eyes to think for a second.

"You're Caroline!" Hange is so confident they're right.

Your little cousin looks at you, then back at your partner, "My name is Lexi..."

"I was close!" Hange says with a bold smile.

🡆 𝐌. 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍

Ever since her old scarf started to tatter her beige flag has been knitting little abstract figures. She'll knit these goofy little monster guys and sew buttons on them for eyes. They're so cute so you don't mind. You have like five that she's made for you.

"Hey pretty girl, I got distracted and made another." Mikasa says with a little groan.

"It's okay, Mika. They're really cute!" She lets out a sigh of relief.

🡆 𝐒. 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐔𝐒

Her beige flag is that she unironically eats with a bib. She argues it's one of those "adult bibs" thinking that it makes it sound better. She just doesn't want to get her clothes dirty and when Sasha eats she eats, which explains how she would even get that messy.

"Hey babe can you get my bib before you sit down."

...

She never fails to catch you off guard. When you hand it to her she gives you a kiss on the check, "You're the best girlfriend I could have ever asked for. Thank you for dinner."

"Of course, sweet girl."

🡆 𝐏. 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑

I love my girl Pieck but I know for a fact her beige flag is that she puts on chapstick just to lick it off.

"Damn my lips are really dry, you got any chapstick on you, baby?" The two of you are going out for dinner so of course she wants to look her best.

"Are you gonna eat it, like always?"

She rolls her eyes, "I do not eat it."

Now it's your turn to roll your eyes, but since you love your girlfriend you give her your strawberry chapstick which she uses a generous amount of.

Not even two minutes later you spot her licking her lips.

"YOU DO EAT IT, LIAR!!!!"

🡆 𝐀. 𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓

Annie's beige flag is that she'll repurpose absolutely anything. Nothing you want to throw away actually makes it to the trash can when she's around.

While you were folding up your clothes you found one of your old socks with a hole in it, so you believe it's that sock's time to go.

When you get up to throw it away you hear your girlfriend call out, "Don't throw that away. I can make it into a toy for Churro."

Churro is your crazy orange cat the two of you took in.

"Annie, Churro has like a million toys. I think he'll be okay without my sock."

"Come on, don't throw it away. I saw this video, and now I wanna try to make the cool cat toy!" You can't deny Annie when she's this cute so you give in. (she always says she's not cute but you beg to differ)

"Fine, here." You throw the sock to her and she makes a perfect catch.

©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites thanks!

[anonymousewrites]

Nature of the Human Soul (Book 1) Chapter Six

Platonic! Hazbin Hotel x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Alastor x Teen! Reader

Chapter Six: Memories of Life and Death

Summary: Everyone says the wrong thing, and (Y/N)'s mental health pays the price.

            (Y/N) closed their eyes and put their hands over their ears as Angel’s show-and-tell video played. It was, of course, nothing short of one of his acting scenes with more of him than (Y/N) ever wanted or needed to see.

            “Ya know, this performance won me a ‘Sex-x-x-i’ award,” said Angel proudly.

            “It’s, uh, very…honest?” Charlie averted her face.

            “Ew,” said Vaggie. “Okay, enough of that! Angel, what the fuck?”

            “What? You said it was Show n’ Tell day!” said Angel. “I’m showin’ you my best film, and I’m tellin’ you that it scored me a win over that bitch, Tiffany Titfucker.”

            “Ya know, that’s not a very convincing interrogation scene,” said Husk from the bar as he cleaned glasses.

            “Alright, dickhead, what makes you think you have any right to insult my work to my fuckin’ face?” said Angel.

            “You’re really gonna sit there and act like these scripts ain’t hot garbage?” said Husk, raising a brow.

            “Fuck you,” said Angel. “This is classy art!” He pointed at the screen on an incredibly inappropriate scene.

            Pentious covered his eyes with his head flaps, and Niffty grinned happily as she watched.

            “That’s bullshit,” said Husk. “You get drunk and bitch about them all the time. Everyone likes to bitch to the bartender. I know everything about you and these motherfuckers at this point.” Angel rolled his eyes, and Husk decided to make a point. “That one.” He pointed at Pentious. “That one is an insecure buffoon whose lonely ass watches you idiots sleep. Princess is a bleeding heart who wants to solve everyone else’s problems ‘cept her own.”

            “What? No, I—Pfft, no, no,” denied Charlie nervously.

            Husk just continued on to Vaggie. “This one judges everyone and everything because she hates herself.”

            “Aargh!” Vaggie hated how accurate it was.

            “That one.” Husk moved on to (Y/N), whose flowers flinched nervously. “Is sick and tired of being thought of as some innocent kid by everyone here and might go crazy if anyone tries to put that role onto them.”

            (Y/N) smiled sheepishly. Unfortunately, they really did feel like that.

            “And Niffty.” Husk made a face. “You don’t even wanna know what her deal is.”

            Angel cackled. “You weren’t kidding. Haha, wow! Kitten’s got claws! Meow~” He grabbed Husk’s face teasingly.

            “And you!” Husk pushed Angel back. “Don’t get me started. I see right through you and all this bullshit and how fake you are.”

            “Oh, me? Fake?” challenged Angel. “Wow. I had no idea. Guess that’s why I’m an actor. Dumbass. And—” His phone went off, and Angel’s face fell before he grabbed it. “Hold that thought.” He walked a few paces away. “Hello? Uh, yeah, I’m-I’m…” His entire attitude had changed, growing nervous and hesitant, completely unlike the usual Angel Dust the hotel dealt with. “No, no, I just, I—No, I’m not, but, uh, yeah…I’ll be right there.”

            He turned off his phone and looked back at the group. (Y/N) furrowed their brow in concern as they saw a familiarly fake smile spread across his face. They had worn that smile themself. It had weighed more than a thousand tons on their shoulders.

            “Well, uh, looks like Val needs me for an, uh, emergency shoot,” said Angel, trying to seem excited and eager.

            “Uhuh, sure,” said Husk, seeing through it.

            “You know what?” snapped Angel. “Fuck you! I don’t give a shit what a drunk ass bartender thinks a’ me! So why don’t you just crawl back to whatever cave you came out of, porn critic.” He gave Husk the middle finger and walked towards the door.

            “Angel, you can’t leave yet!” said Charlie. “We haven’t finished our exercises for the day.”

            “I’m sure you’ll manage without me,” said Angel.

            I don’t think he can say no to Valentino, thought (Y/N), frowning.

            They knew Angel had a contract with Valentino, and they saw the exhaustion in him whenever he returned to the hotel. They knew that if he could, Angel would rest more often. But he couldn’t. And (Y/N) really wished they could do something about it. After all, if there was one thing they despised more than anything else in this whole Hell and Heaven and Earth and everything, it was those that took advantage of others. The very thought summoned a murderous rage (Y/N).

            They knew what it felt like to be used and abused.

            The roses on (Y/N)’s head quivered and wilted as they felt themself on the verge of really, truly remembering (reliving) what they had gone through in life, and (Y/N)’s chest tightened.

            “There isn’t much time left for the hotel to prove itself,” said Charlie, her words drawing (Y/N) out of their mind successfully.

            “Dollface, it’s my job,” said Angel forcefully. “I know you want to fix everything, but unless you can fix my boss, there’s nothing you can do.” He slammed the door shut and was gone.

            “Uuuuugh, why is this so haaaard?” groaned Charlie, curling up in front of the door. “What am I doing wrong?”

            “I don’t think Valentino wants Angel to be redeemed, even if it’s possible,” said (Y/N), frowning.

            “But I do,” said Charlie. “And I really believe in him! But he always has to go to work and can never really commit…What do I do?”

            “Well, I mean, you’re the princess of Hell,” said Vaggie.

            “So?” said Charlie.

            “So, you don’t really use the power that comes with that, which I love about you, but maybe you can…I don’t know, command a little more authority?” suggested Vaggie, smiling encouragingly.

            “But that’s so mean!” said Charlie.

            “I don’t know much about the Vees, but I’m sure they’d deserve it,” said (Y/N), and Husk nodded in firm agreement.

            “It’s not mean, exactly,” said Vaggie, trying to get through to Charlie in a way she’d understand. “It’s, uh, aggressive kindness!”

            Wow. (Y/N) and Husk looked at each other, unimpressed by that “persuasion.”

            “Okay!” Charlie brightened, apparently having been convinced by the idea of “aggressive kindness.” “I could be so aggressively kind to Angel’s boss that I convince to let Angel spend more time at the hotel!”

            “Sure, whatever gets you there, babe,” said Vaggie, smiling at Charlie as she walked out the door happily.

            “Is killing Overlords not on the table?” murmured (Y/N).

            “No,” said Husk. “At least, not for you.”

            “Fine, fine. I’ll do it another time,” said (Y/N).

            Husk shrugged. “As long as you know you’ll win, go for it.” He didn’t care if Valentino got what was coming to him.

            “Do not encourage them to kill people!” said Vaggie.

            “It’s not people. It would be Valentino,” said Husk, and (Y/N) nodded in agreement.

            Vaggie sighed, but she couldn’t disagree.

l

            When Angel returned, (Y/N)’s anger returned full force. He was clearly exhausted and uncomfortable, and whatever he had to film, it was long and, possibly (likely), painful.

            “Eugh, I need a drink,” said Angel, slumping across the bar counter. “The hardest you can make.”

            “Hm. You look like shit,” said Husk, putting a glass down and pouring a drink.

            Angel straightened and put on his overconfident act. “Pfft. Not possible. Just a long shoot, nothin’ new.”

            “Are you alright, Angel?” asked (Y/N), frowning.

            “Of course!” said Angel, but he quickly chugged the drink Husk had made him. He slammed the glass down. “I said a strong one.”

            “Excuse me,” scoffed Husk. “Didn’t realize this was a ‘drinking to forget’ kind of night.”

            “Oh, I forgot. You’re the wise old bartender who’s seen it all!” Angel spoke confidently, but the look on his face was clearly not. “Get the fuck over yourself and pour me a real drink.”

            “Look, if you got a problem, you’re not going to find the solution at the bottom of a bottle,” said Husk. “I should know, I’ve been looking there a long time.”

            “Oh, sure, and where should I look, huh?” said Angel, scoffing. He wiggled his eyebrows. “In your bedroom, maybe? Under the covers? Maybe we can go and look together.”

            “Angel, we’re actually worried,” said (Y/N), walking over. “We want to make sure you’re okay and take care of yourself.”

            “I’m fine,” snapped Angel. “I don’t need any help.”

            “Cut the act,” said Husk. “We can both see through it. You’re just lying to yourself and being fake.”

            “Call me a fake one more time, motherfuckers!” Angel snapped, leaning forward towards (Y/N) and Husk angrily.

            “Angel—” began (Y/N), reaching out slightly.

            “Just leave me alone!” snapped Angel. He slapped their hand away. “Ya know what?! Ya’re all fucking lucky to be talkin’ to me! And you—” he glared at Husk “—would be lucky to fuck me! Ya know how much I’m worth?!” He was clearly spiraling. “Ya know how many people would kill to have Angel Dust come onto them?! Fuck you!” He spun on (Y/N), who flinched back. “And you! Just leave me alone! Stop trying the nice act on me! Acting like you’re innocent and nice when you’re just as much a sinner as us! Just fucking stop!”

            (Y/N) flinched back as Angel stormed out. Their chest constricted, and they were overwhelmed as words from their past came to the surface. (Y/N) stumbled back even as Vaggie came around the corner. They could vaguely hear Vaggie asking Husk what had happened, but everything was faraway, like (Y/N) was underwater.

            (Y/N) pulled away from the group, and as the edges of their vision blurred, they stumbled away, farther into the hotel.

            Away. Need to get away.

            (Y/N) collapsed in a darkened corner of the hotel.

            “Don’t act innocent. You’re a filthy sinner, and if you don’t start obeying me, you’re going straight to Hell.”

            (Y/N) curled up, putting their hands around their knees. Unbidden, roses and briars bloomed around them, creating a protective barrier that couldn’t hide (Y/N) from the words echoing in their mind.

            “I saw you in Church. You weren’t paying attention. Can’t you do anything right? Do you want to burn for all eternity?”

            (Y/N) squeezed their eyes shut and put their hands over their ears, but nothing could block out their memories.

            “You’ve brought this on yourself. You refuse to atone for your sins, so I must deliver you from yourself.”

            (Y/N) flinched, and phantom pain blossomed on their back.

            “You are a sinner! You bring sin into this household! You must atone!”

            (Y/N) curled farther in on themself.

            I’m fine. I’m free. None of them can hurt me again. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.

            “I’m fine. They can’t hurt me. I won. I won. I won.”

            “Sinner. Filthy. Dirty.”

            “No, no, no, you were the filthy one. You hurt me.” (Y/N) murmured. “They hurt me, and I punished them.”

            “Wrong. Mistake. Abomination.”

            “I did the right thing. I did the right thing. I did the right thing.”

            “You have to atone.”

            “Can’t hurt me. Can’t hurt me. Can’t hurt me.”

            (Y/N) tried to breathe as their entire body ran hot, lungs too tight, the air too stuffy.

            And then something cool wrapped around them. (Y/N) tensed, but they were too exhausted to open their eyes, too scared to see the people they were so desperately trying to block out. So they just let the comforting temperature wrap around them, settling around them. It stilled their thoughts, delivering them from their own mental hell.

            (Y/N) let out a tired breath and held themself tightly. Whatever was settling around them felt like no enemy, and (Y/N) would take any bit of comfort they could find.

            They had never gotten any before.

l

            Alastor lurked within the shadows of the hotel, gazing over (Y/N)’s small, protective barrier. He loomed above, perfectly able to act as he wished, ready as ever to drive fear into all. Instead, Alastor let the shadows rise and settle around (Y/N)’s shoulders. Their breathing calmed, and Alastor pulled back farther into the shadows, satisfied.

            He could’ve frightened them. He could’ve driven them farther into their own madness. He could’ve pushed them and their magic to the brink to see if they had the strength to survive.

            But Alastor hadn’t. He’d heard the same words he’d spoken to himself so, so long ago. And he’d done what, perhaps, a different, faint version of himself would have wanted.

            Perhaps (Y/N) and he were not as different as he assumed.

            Instantly, Alastor retreated into the shadows. He would prefer to think over that new realization on his own. It presented quite a few considerations Alastor had so far avoided in his life.

l

            Much, much later in the evening, (Y/N) braved a return to the lobby to attempt to steal a drink before retreating to their room again.

            “Hey, kid?”

            (Y/N) froze and turned. Angel was standing across from them, rubbing his arm nervously.

            “Oh. Uh, hi.”

            “Listen, kid.” Angel stepped forward. “I’m, uh, I’m sorry. For earlier. I shouldn’t’ve said what I did. I was being stupid. You’re a good kid. And even if you’re in Hell, you’re betta than most of the sinners in the Hellhole.”

            “It’s okay,” said (Y/N), shifting uneasily. “You weren’t feeling well. I’m sorry for pushing.”

            “You, uh, cared,” said Angel. “It was nice of you. So thanks.”

            “You’re welcome.”

            Angel smiled slightly. “Are we okay?”

            (Y/N) nodded. “We are.” Angel wasn’t who (Y/N) had escaped. He was their friend.

            And whoever had helped them was their friend, too.

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[mcytblrconfessions]

I’m not even going to lie, it feels like every POW creations series just gets worse and worse. Like Rats was good, I guess but wow, everything else is just hot garbage

[technicolorfamiliar]

Well, it took me a year, but I watched a billion 50+ Conrad Veidt films. Some good, some great, some so bad that I hope I never have to see them again.

This post is a stand in for the entire second half of this filmic journey -- I'll link the original 5 posts that make up the first part below. But instead of reposting all of my reviews for all of these titles (the original posts for these are on Pillowfort), I'll just share some highlights below the cut.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5

Bleaker and darker than I expected, but that makes sense if it's based on a WWI memoir. What happened to Martha was legitimately awful and hard to watch. Stilted performances aside, I would have also liked a whole separate movie about the lesbian spy aunt. But Commandant Oberaertz... [redacted]. He's so hot, despite the character being absolutely awful and creepy and intimidating. I actually said "wow" out loud about his body shape in that costume. That jacket is fitted within a millimeter of its life. How many other films did Connie use this lower register in? Not many, right? It's too much, TOO MUCH. I think this movie took ten years off my life.

I Was a Spy, 1933

Dir. Victor Saville

⭐3/5

Watched Feb 18, Snowgrouse's masterpost

Connie's performance in this is more sympathetic than it has any right to be. The movie very easily could have been sensationalist garbage, and I'm so glad it was handled with relative care and humanity. I liked his whole vibe, I am not immune to party boy Rasputin's charms; "he's got the kavorca, the lure of the animal!" He looks like he stinks, which in this case may not necessarily be a bad thing. I don't even know what to make of all the cooing and baby talk he does with Alexei, or for that matter Drunk!Rasputin dancing and climbing over furniture to get at his ladies. I wish we got to see more scenes with Rasputin and the royal family, how those relationships formed and affected matters of state. We only really get to know about any of that through dialogue among other court officials. And so the emotional turn at the ending was unexpected. The way he cried out after being shot, I've never heard a sound like that come from a human being. Needless to say I did not feel great when the movie ended, but I liked it way more than I thought I would.

Rasputin, Dämon der Frauen, 1932

Dir. Adolf Trotz

⭐3/5

Watched Mar 23, Archive.org

Almost all the performances in this are pretty excellent. The stripped back, realistic style with handheld, newsreel camerawork really suits these actors and the story. Apparently this is a remake of an English film which is based on a play, and it definitely feels like a play. I'm fascinated by this little movie, it's basically an anti-war film about British soldiers in WWI produced in Germany in the early 30s… how did this even get made?? Messages about the horrors of war aside, the homoerotic undertones (overtones?) alone make this a truly unique piece of storytelling for the time and place it was filmed. And those under/overtones are treated pretty respectfully, none of these men are the butt of a joke, how they are with one another is handled with a naturalism that isn't really seen again until maybe the 1950s. And Connie. The range. Can we talk about Stanhope? He's a gruff, messy drunk, a traumatized, hollowed out husk of a man. When Osbourne says something like "you'll be alright when this is over," NO HE WOULDN'T, HE'D BE WORSE. His relationship with Raleigh is interesting too, clearly they were more than casual friends. I didn't believe for a second that the tension between Stanhope and Raleigh was about the sister/fiancée, it's weak, weak I tell you. It's one of Connie's most underrated performances.

Die andere Seite, 1931

Dir. Heinz Paul

⭐3.75/5

Watched Apr 27, Snowgrouse's masterpost

Everyone in this movie looks like a Rankin Bass stop motion character. The ending was abrupt as fuck, Werner Krauss' Jack the Ripper got a lot less screen time and I wonder if they just tacked that onto the end after they realized they spent too much time on Emil Jannings' and Connie's characters. There's a lot of fondling going on in this movie, there's the guy with the bread in the first part, then Connie going all glassy-eyed caressing his globes. Ivan the Terrible is a certified DIVA in that diaphanous, white robe, even with the hard middle part and scraggly beard. What is he doing with his tongue the whole time, though?? Love that he crashes some random girl's wedding, lets her father get murdered by assassins, kidnaps her AND her husband, and brings them both home to his sex dungeon. Connie is doing the most -- the eyes, the gestures, all the greatest hits from his silent film acting tool box, he's whipping them out for this role.

Das Wachsfigurenkabinett (Waxworks), 1924

Dir. Paul Leni, Leo Birinski

⭐2/5

Watched May 29, Archive.org

I didn't like this movie, I just wanted an excuse to post this screenshot. But it actually is a very silly little movie, with what must have been an enormous budget for costumes and sets, and it has some cute physical comedy. Sadly, Connie's in too little of the film to save it from being obnoxious. I did like the Czar's body double who just wanted to work on his needlepoint, and the Court Spanker who was clearly really into his job. And of course Metternich, that sly dog, that velvet-clad scamp. Between the all the foxy, gap-toothed grinning he does and the way he's going to town on that dialogue, he is as always a pleasure to watch. The English version is on Youtube somewhere, so I may go through that and pick out the time stamps for Connie's scenes because I don't think I could sit through this whole movie again, especially not that stupid fucking "Wien und der Wein" song, jesus christ.

Der Kongress tanzt, 1931

Dir. Erik Charell

⭐2/5

Watched Jun 23, Snowgrouse's masterpost

Apparently this movie was considered a flop, and Connie wasn't super happy with this role and others around this time. I think I must have had that info in the back of my mind somewhere going into this movie, because my expectations were pretty low. So, as usual, I actually wound up liking it more than I thought I would. It's a lot sillier than it has any right to be, but yeah it's ultimately a piece of fluff compared to some of the other heavy-hitting films on this list. I love when Connie has a comedic foil like the Marius character, but it could have been a lot better if the dialogue was snappier and the timing tighter. And Connie's character promises to be this bad bitch at the top of the movie, but all we get is one quick, poorly choreographed sword fight and a whole bunch of nothing after that. There's all this build up, I mean, the character is nicknamed The Black Death, and the movie never really lets the character live up to the name. It's a missed opportunity for sure. That said, the Puffy Shirt with the open collar "ensconced in velvet" (to risk yet more Seinfeld references), jaunty hat, knee-high boots with spurs look is really doing it for me. And THERE ARE PUPPIES. Perhaps the most delightful thing that has ever happened in cinematic history. I couldn’t believe it. Connie picked up the first puppy and said, "You big boy, you!" and I hate him, like full Madeline Kahn Mrs. White "flames… on the side of my face." I hate him so much.

Under the Red Robe, 1937

Dir. Victor Seastrom

⭐2.5/5

Watched Jul 17, Youtube

[bengiyo]

23.5 Degrees Ep 3 Stray Thoughts

Last time, the school allowed them to restart the astronomy club, but many students believe in the superstitious rumors about the club, and refused to join. Ongsa and Sun joined the club, and Luna was eventually able to convince Aylin to join. Ongsa continued to fret over lying about her online identity to Sun, and ridiculously threw her phone away in the garbage. However, after much strife, she got her phone back and reconnected with Sun in her Earth persona. Meanwhile, it seems that Mawin may have a crush on Tinh. We left at Ton saying he and Ongsa dated before, and now I am working on my gameplan about how Euro can still win and be paired with AJ. I am also shipping the teachers.

Three days? Does Ton really get around that much??

Ton is so much. Oh my god.

I tell you these kids stay filming each other in ways I am not comfortable with. I am glad I came of age before this era of surveillance because I would not have survived.

Classic gay behavior: managing an organization’s finances to be closer to your crush.

Sorry, Ongsa. Now all of Thailand thinks you’re straight.

Blossom, what does Ongsa’s romantic history have to do with your debt? You better pay what you owe!

23.5 please don’t let me down on Mawin. Big Gay Boys need love, too!

Oh, Mawin, are you really ready to face the consequences of rule breaking for dick?

I’m invested in Aylin’s search for connection.

Hold on! Sun is a sports gay!

I am never going to complain about a silly pratfall in this genre. That’s a requirement.

This poor dog always looks like he’s hot.

They really didn’t think this sneaking into school thing through once the school president’s cousin was interested.

They really let Tinh film them breaking school rules. How silly is that.

The sisterhood of the traveling pants has arrived at the school.

Wow. They really fell on each other twice this week.

Look at the security guard being reasonable.

Ton is too much.

For a second I thought they were going to throw the teacher over the balcony to his death.

Hiding in a closet? It’s where many of us first meet and connect.

The finger touch with the light in the background was a really nice touch (ha!).

Alpha is a real one. She's maintaining discipline and giving her boy a shot with Tinh at the same time.

I don't know if Blossom should be feeling smug with the state of her game. At least she's being a good sport.

"Every girl would be into you if you were a guy." Sun, sidebar.

Oh ho! Chaoren knows about Ongsa's crush. She seems like she meddles. This is good for us.

I'm having a lot of fun with this. I was chatting with @ginnymoonbeam earlier when I had to pause about how specific this show feels for the lesbian experience and how that gaze is impacting even the male stories. I love how effectively Milk is playing a loser, and a lot of the GMMTV boys should be taking notes.

[cyberbeast99]

Werewolf HRT First Moon: Part 2

Here's the next part of my Werewolf HRT story! Hope you guys enjoy! (no art this time qwq)

“AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

The animal cry resonates through the night as I revel in my new form. I’m overwhelmed by the sheer euphoria. Of how right this feels. I stand there unmoving, listening to the echoing howl fade away with my new hypersensitive ears. I hear a whimper from the corner of the room. Candy’s huddled there, eyes wide, staring at me.

“Ho-ly shit. Uhhh, Eric?  You still in there?”

 I can hear her panicked heartbeat, and smell her apple shampoo, sour sweat, and another odor that I’m able to recognize as the scent of fear.

Oh. My. God.

I open my mouth to reassure her but my words get caught at the back of my throat and come out as a choked inhuman snarl. Candy shrinks further into the wall. Instead of verbal support, I crouch down next to her and place my hairy paw gently on her back. After a bit, she calms down, and rests her head against the thick fur on my chest.

“Wow, you’re so soft!”

I make another attempt at speech and succeed, albeit in a deep guttural growl so different from my normal whiny voice.

“Crazy, right?”

She looks at me, eyes full of wonder. “I had my doubts, but… wow. Just wow. This cannot be real.”

“Did it hurt?” she inquires.

“It was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. Like my whole body was on fire. I had no idea it was gonna hurt that much.”

“Actually, I think it should have hurt a lot worse,” she says 

“At the speed that you just changed, every single cell in your body rearranging as fast as they did, it shouldn’t even be possible! The energy expended just from friction should have burnt you up!”

Great, she’s nerding out again. As she begins to list off every reason why it’s scientifically impossible, I tune her out and begin to notice a ton of other noises. Our heartbeats, our breathing, but also the sound of crickets, the tiny footfalls of what I assume to be a raccoon or a rabbit outside, and this incredibly irritating high-pitched whine that I can’t place. I remember Grace talking about how she had to unplug every electronic device in her house because the noise was driving her crazy, and I determine that what I’m hearing is the buzz of electricity.

 I stand back up, still feeling as if I’m in a trance. I pad down the hall, enjoying the sound of my claws clicking on the floorboards and the sensation of my tail swishing behind me. I fumble with the bathroom doorknob, wrench it open, and frown. The bathroom, painted sea green, is now completely gray. 

Huh. Guess I’m colour-blind.

I stare at myself in the mirror.  Run my paws through the fur on my rawboned lupine arms. Feel the rippling muscles on my torso. Gently tug on my tail. Touch my wet canine nose. My irises have enlarged and turned a deep amber colour. I open my mouth and run my pink tongue along my sharp, yellowish animal teeth. Over my black wolf lips.

Yes!

YES!

Suddenly I’m overcome with claustrophobia. I need fresh air, and badly. “I’m going outside.” I say. Candy looks nervous, but she follows me nonetheless. The second I step outside, I’m barraged by another sensation overload, this time from the trash cans lined up along the street. The stench of garbage fills my nostrils and it’s…  not unpleasant. I note that I seem to perceive scents differently as a werewolf. The odour of rotting meat in particular is appealing and appetizing, serving to fuel the wild hunger in my gut.

In the cool night air, I feel clean. The breeze feels great on my hot wolf fur. I have this need to move, to run and run, give into the primal urges in this body and disappear into the forest like the beast that I am. But the majority of my brain is still too self conscious to do that yet, especially with Candy here. I notice that she’s still scared of me, and I need to show her that I mean her no harm. 

Also, I need to do something about this hunger. 

“Wanna get some food?” I inquire. She nods and reaches for her keys. I’ve never gotten my license. I’m absolutely terrified of losing focus while driving and hurting someone. I hop into the passenger seat, and she pulls out of the driveway. We drive to a Wendy’s a kilometer away. The dining room is closed, so we head to the drive thru. I’m absolutely starving at this point, so we order a ton of burgers. The clerk gives me a really weird look, but I’m way too hungry to care. By the time Candy pulls into my driveway, I’ve wolfed down five burgers and I’m halfway through a sixth. Candy shuts down the car and turns to me.

“Eric?” “Yeah?” I mumble through a mouthful of hamburger. Ketchup and hot grease dribble onto my furry chest.

“You know those dreams I’ve been having about Krystal?” 

“Your fursona?” I inquire.

“Eric, I’ve been thinking a lot and I’ve discovered she’s more than my fursona.” Candy says seriously.

“I’ve decided to book an appointment with Dr. Erian and see if he can give me some sort of rabbit-lion HRT. I was skeptical, but after what I’ve seen tonight, I think it’s possible” says Candy. “But I’m doing this by the book. That means I’m going through the year of living as my preferred species. I also talked with Grace, and we’re wondering if you wanted to help us set up a support group. We’ve found a few other alterhumans who want to join.” “Really?” I ask? She nods. “I like that very much,” I say.

Hey guys, Cyber here! As you might know from @vy-canis-melodis's comic, me, her, @candyrocks03, @gracewolfing, and @hyacinthdoll1315 are working on a collab! I'm super excited for this and I hope you guys are too! Stay tuned for the next pawesome adventure!

[amnestria-the-elf]

If you're not one of the estimated 30 million people worldwide to experience PMDD, let me try to describe it to you.

The world loses its color, completely without warning. You realize something is off, but you're tired AF and your brain barely works so you pour yourself your morning hot beverage of choice to try to shake it off. Your usual breakfast tastes like sawdust and you attempt to choke it down while you scroll on your phone looking hopelessly for something that might fill the empty void that has settled in your chest while your morning beverage grows cold and untouched next to you.

You sit on the edge of your bed and stare blankly at the wall for an undetermined amount of time. Maybe you drum up the energy to take a shower, but if you're like me and work from home you just think "fuck it" and change out of your PJs and into your daytime sweats, because nothing matters anyway.

Your family/roommates/coworkers/every goddamn living creature on Earth annoy the hell out of you. "Irritable" hardly begins to describe your behavior. Think "Embrace Durge" levels of murderous rage, combined with enormous amounts of sensory overload. You want nothing more than to lie in bed in a dark, quiet room, for exactly forever, because nothing matters anyway.

That's when the intrusive thoughts come in. You're The Worst Human Alive. Everything you've ever created is garbage. You should delete your fics, burn your art, throw away your laptop/tablet/colored pencils and never, ever, ever create anything ever again because the world deserves better than to be subjected to the flaming pile of shit that you put out into it. Such thoughts might make you weep uncontrollably, they might make you scream in rage, or they might make you feel completely dead inside. Maybe you cycle through all three, and end up completely wrung out, laying in a heap on your bed, because again, nothing matters anyway.

Basic functioning becomes difficult. Simple things like brushing your teeth sap your energy; forget answering emails or Slack messages, or god forbid getting on a Zoom call. Things that would have once felt like fun challenges now feel like impossible obstacles that you will never surmount. You won't even bother trying, because- and I can't stress this enough- nothing matters anyway.

Maybe you're lucky enough to have had enough therapy to recognize the warning signs and are able to see that you are In A Dark Place. The thing about Being In a Dark Place, though, is that knowing you're in it in no way helps you get out of it. Imagine that you walked into a giant, brightly lit warehouse, and then someone spun you around a bunch of times and then suddenly cut the lights. You might say, "Wow, this is A Dark Place." You might remember vaguely where the door was and try to head in that direction. You might even make some progress, but it won't be because you know that you're in A Dark Place. The knowing doesn't change it. At best, the knowing is a reminder that perhaps you should use the many tools at your disposal, or Accept Help.

Accepting Help is one of the hardest things you can do when you are In A Dark Place because- let's not forget- nothing matters anyway. Help does not always come from a licensed therapist, though if you're fortunate enough to avail yourself of such Help, I highly recommend you do so. Help might come from a partner who sees that you're In A Dark Place and sits with you until you're ready to move out of The Dark Place. Help might come from your group chat. Help might even come from this random stranger in this little corner of the internet who is here to tell you that Things Do Matter, and that the world is better because you are in it, and that I know what Being In A Dark Place feels like, too.

Now imagine that you go through this Dark Place once a month. When your menstrual cycle begins, it's as if a veil is lifted off of your brain and the Dark Place goes away, and you see it for what it is: your hormones once again waking up and choosing violence. 75% of the time, you're totally fine. No intrusive thoughts, the things you create are beautiful and lovely and you want the world to see them, and if you're not a delight to be around you're at least not A Horrible Person. The other 25% of the time, you become someone else. Your life comes screeching to a halt while you're flailing about in A Dark Place, not to mention that you gained what feels like 45 pounds, your face is covered in acne despite the fact that you're a grown-ass adult, you have a perpetual headache, and your boobs hurt. Like, a lot.

I wish I knew a way to help those who might read this and find their experience mirrors mine. (Yes, I have tried meditation. Please suggest literally anything else.) I think the best I can do is reiterate what I said before: Things Do Matter, and the world is a better place because you're in it. Do not let the Dark Place lie to you about that.

Also, I hear that certain vitamins are supposed to help. I will report back if I have any positive movement on that front.

[laineystein]

A few thoughts on HotD S2E5 that no one has to read but I need to share:

It concerns me when people point to Matt Smith as the reason they watch this show. Have you seen his face? I can’t relate.

Can you imagine having kids that are just utter human garbage? I wonder what that’s like for Alicent. Like she made her bed and slept in it many times and I don’t at all feel bad for her but wow. What a fate.

On that note, is anyone actually rooting for the Greens? Also can’t relate.

Daemon’s mom is hot. The casting directors clearly didn’t read the books that make Alyssa Targaryen’s out to be very unfortunate looking. I will allow this canon-divergence because it was the only interesting aspect of the episode.

Jokes aside, this ‘Daemon on an acid trip’ business is stupid and I can’t believe we’ve wasted two episodes on it

Bottom line, I’m bored and this show continues to disappoint me. GoT in its prime was eons better than this and anyone who disagrees is lying.

[we-were-so-beautiful]

4. shower

wow look it's another chapter!!! like... not that long after the last one, even! honestly I had the first 3 sections of this basically entirely written not long after finishing the last one, but eventually I decided I should probably do literally anything else for a while (hyperfocus is a real dick lol), and so I'm just now getting back to it. I thought this was gonna be on the shorter side, but it's about the same as the last one, around 1.3k! there's a pretty important reveal in this one...

Content warnings for this chapter: box boy universe, pet whump, dehumanization, conditioning, infected wounds, (severe) illness. As always, please let me know if there's anything else I need to tag.

[masterlist] [chapter three]

Vanessa’s never been particularly sensitive to scents—it’s a saving grace, in a mind where too much light or sound or texture can make her feel like she’s dying. But by the time the guy lying shaking on the seats behind her practically falls out of the taxi in front of her stoop, even she’s having a hard time with the smell coming off of him. Given how the driver peels away with all his windows down the second she pulls the last scrap of soiled newspaper from his backseat, it probably isn’t just her.

She turns back to the guy, for the first time finally alone with him. She’s too short to be used to talking down to people, but he’s hunched himself into that weird curled-up position again, so when she speaks it's aimed vaguely toward the top of his head. “Okay. First things first, we’re getting your ass in the shower,” she tells him. “And then we can deal with the effects of my questionable life decisions.” She pauses for a moment, considers. “Well. This one, anyway.”

There’s no way she’s getting him in through the front like this. Too many stairs, and too much dirt. The garden door will have to cut it. She motions for him to follow her down the alley, and he unfurls himself just enough to shuffle after her.

As soon as the shadows close in around them, she looks back over her shoulder. When she’s satisfied that no one can see them, she unclasps the collar from around his neck and tosses it, leash and all, into the garbage.

—

Vanessa can’t say she’s ever been grateful for the fact that her parents are insane enough to have a swimming pool in the basement of their New York fucking brownstone. Quite frankly, she still isn’t; they got the fucker installed when she was a kid and she screamed for so many days they finally packed her off to a hotel with her nanny of the week just to shut her up. Which they probably should have done in the first place, given that she was nine and there was a jackhammer in her fucking basement.

What she is grateful for now, though, is that the part of this floor that isn’t taken up by the pool—or the hot tub, or the weirdly redundant multi-person bathtub—is a shower stall the size of her literal bedroom. Complete with benches, and removable showerheads, and, she’s hoping, everything else she could possibly need right now.

“In here,” she motions, and he drags himself onto the tiles. “I’d offer you the weirdly redundant multi-person bathtub, but you’ve barely been able to keep your head up all day and the last thing I need is to fucking drown a guy in my basement. Also no offense but you’re literally so dirty right now I’d have to drain the fucker the second you got in. After this you can have a bath whenever you want, if you’re into that sorta thing, but for right now you’re getting a damn rinse.”

—

Once he’s more or less situated on the built-in shower bench, propped up in the corner in hopes it’ll keep him from falling ass over, Vanessa gets to work, still fully clothed down to her chucks on the marble tile. She unhooks a showerhead and aims it at the drain while it warms up. “Is this okay?” she asks, pointing it at his feet, and he flinches sluggishly but doesn’t respond either way.

“I don’t know what that means, guy.” She tests the water again with her hand. “It can’t be that bad, can it?” she muses out loud. “It’s the same temperature I’d use for me, and fuck knows I’m… y’know, picky. So if you want it different you gotta tell me, okay.”

He doesn’t tell her shit. But he doesn’t flinch too much harder when she moves the stream of water up toward his knees, either, and she figures that’s the best she’s gonna get.

She leans over him and focuses the showerhead on his hair. It’s matted stiff as tree bark, the water barely able to permeate through the layers of filth. “Shit, I dunno man, your hair’s got so much crap in it. Not to mention it wouldn’t surprise me if that shelter gave you goddamn lice.” She shudders. “Might be better off just cutting it short.”

There’s a noise she barely registers as a gasp before his ice-pale eyes fly open and he clutches her arm, quicker than she’s seen him move by fucking light years. She jerks automatically out of his grip, dropping the showerhead in her alarm, but he fixes her with a lidless, panicky stare and the eye contact is so startling she’s frozen to the spot. “Please…” he wheezes, “don’t.”

“You fuckin’ what, dude?”

“Don’t… cut… my hair.”

She blinks, astonished. “That’s the first thing you’ve said all fucking day, isn’t it?” He doesn’t offer another. “Christ. Typical fuckin’ me not to notice.” She huffs quietly. “Well shit, dude, I guess if you give enough of a fuck to speak up about it it can stay. But so help me if I find a single fucking nit in there.”

He whimpers quietly, squeezing his eyes shut, but he doesn’t say another word.

—

Vanessa gingerly retrieves the showerhead from where it’s spattering up at the ceiling, along with an oversized lace bath pouf and a mostly-full bottle of body wash she’s pretty sure is fucking designer. If you could see me now, Mom, she thinks, squirting the gel at his left shoulder, the one closest to her. You… well, you probably still wouldn’t give a shit. 

She touches the pouf to his sullied skin as gently as she can, and she knows she’s not well-coordinated at the best of times but she really doesn’t feel like she deserves the choked-off sound he makes or the way he shrinks away from her when she makes contact. “Oh cmon, guy, look I know but you gotta let me get this shit off you, there’s no way it’s not fucking your shit up worse than it already is,” she cajoles, and whatever she’s said it makes something in his posture go slack and he rolls back toward her, opening himself to her touch. “Thanks, uh, I think,” she hedges, and begins to lather him up with slow, concentrative strokes. She flicks the shower back on, sluicing suds and dirt from his skin in equal measure.

"Ohhh, fucking yiiiiikes," Vanessa says softly.

With the first layer of filth washed away, Vanessa can see the far grimmer reality that’s been hidden underneath. Rows of jagged, infected gashes streak their way across his shoulder to his chest. The skin around them burns an angry red, the wounds themselves all but smothered in sickly whitish-yellow. What narrow swathes of skin remain intact are mottled purple, and now that she’s touching him, she can tell he’s just… way too much hotter than any person should ever be.

She lowers the temperature of the water and keeps washing him, afraid to look but needing to see. Each stroke only reveals more of the same. His chest and left shoulder seem to have gotten most of the worst of it, but there are stripes across his arm, his back, his stomach, deep gouges in his legs. She hasn’t tried to touch his face yet, but now that she knows what to look for she thinks she can even see a scratch or several across his cheek, trailing up into his hairline. Jesus fuck.

It all makes a sinister sort of sense now, she thinks: the shallow breathing, the shivers, the near-total lack of response. And here she thought he just had regular rescuee trauma.

“Fuck,” she breathes out quietly, as the realization creeps over her like ice.

There’s something really, really wrong with this guy.

-

taglist: @maracujatangerine @pigeonwhumps @tragedyinblue @marchtothefuckingsea @octopus-reactivated @briars7

[atrueneutral]

Writing Update & ‘Writing Interview’

Hello! Instead of providing a snippet this week, I’m going to give you a small update on where I’m at with this latest chapter of ‘Blood in the Wine’.

I’m wrapping up the chapter (maybe today, maybe tomorrow) then will need to edit. The chapter will be deployed soon so keep an eye out! We’re looking at around 7k - 8k words.

A bright side for the story is I’ll be doing more writing now that I’ve accomplished what I wanted to in FFXIV (for the time being).

Below the cut are my responses to the writing interview going around - thanks @pricemarshfield for the tag! ❤️

When did you start writing? I believe I started writing when I was the tender age of twelve years old. I decided to write some Kagome x InuYasha fics that are frozen in time on FF.net. Aside from the grammatical errors, the predictable plot and the out-of-character characterizations, I think the worst thing about them is that they weren’t Sesshomaru x Kagome.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write? I’m continually embarrassed to say I don’t read books anymore. Writing has given me the drive to crack more books open, but writing has also given me less time to read amongst work and the occasional video game session. Were I to read, I enjoy reading classical horror and supernatural tales here and there, outside of my love for mythology and classical romance.

I think if I write anything, it needs to have an angle of romance - even if it involved eldritch beings.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often? Ohhh, I have no idea… I just write how I write. 🤷‍♀️

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space? I normally write at my desktop computer, where my husband puts up with all of the clacking I do at my keyboard.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse? For me it’s listening to music and playing scenes out in my head. Certain songs with certain scenes I’ve concocted gear me up like nothing else to the point of wanting to scream.

The good kind of scream.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

I like dealing with people who make poor decisions and watching the consequences unfold. I like themes of temptation. I like the classic good vs evil but with shades of gray on both sides. I like threading in the concept of fate.

No, they don’t surprise me. 

What is your reason for writing?

My reason for writing was because a story formed and put a theoretical gun against the head it was in; I had to realize it.

Now I write because another story has a gun to my head, and it’s fun being held hostage by my own plots. 

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

I deeply cherish the comments that walk me through initial reaction to scenes (especially plot twists!) and how the writing affected the reader emotionally. I salivate over when readers theorize about what’s to come next or start to piece together elements of the plot.

It’s also been wonderful to hear that people think my writing is immersive! 

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

“That Neutral gal is super cool and mysterious and kind of funny at times.” I’m kidding! I’ll mirror what other writers have said in saying that I hope readers view me as approachable! I’m trying to stay what I view as being a healthy-arm’s-length-apart from fandom spaces, but it’s not my intent to discourage people from interacting with me! Interaction was the whole reason for making this writing blog. I’ve enjoyed all of the asks, the prompts, and the interactions I’ve had thus far!

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Believable dialogue and character interactions?

How do you feel about your own writing?

I like it, but then I read other people’s writing and go, “Wow, Neutral! You effing wish you could write like this. Your writing reads like hot garbage in comparison.”

So many talented people in the fandom stratosphere!

It’s a fun little see-saw of turmoil.

(No Pressure Tagging @theemptyislost ❤️ I believe everyone else I would have tagged has already been tagged!)

[chronotsr]

No. 4 - D1, Descent into the Depths of the Earth (August 1978)

Author(s): Gary Gygax Artist(s): David C. Sutherland III (Cover), David A. Trampier Level range: Average of 10, preferrably party size 7+ players Theme: Underground exploration Major re-releases: D1-2 Descent into the Depths of the Earth, GDQ1-7 Queen of the Spiders

Wait, really? This adventure has never gotten an official adaptation after 1e? That feels really weird. Granted Queen of Spiders in particular would absolutely work with 2e, but, wow. Is there a reason for that?

Ahh, 1e cover art. Looks like hot fucking garbage in the best way. Well, at least it's not a trace? You may be aware that early DND had a bit of an art theft problem (mostly stealing off of comic covers), but I don't actually have a list of all the known cases -- finding art credits at all is enough hassle as is without tracking down which paintings are also stolen. The usual suspect is "Greg Bell" and if you want to look this up the word you need to google is "Swipes", not traces. Just, be aware that's a thing going forward.

We start off on a weak footing: a light retcon. The ending of G3 didn't really imply that the drow had an escape route to the underdark in the Hall, at least not going off the map, but the text of D1 does. It didn't really even have a reason to pursue any drow into the, well it's not called the Underdark yet. In fact, it's going to be a hot minute til then, it'll receive that name in '86 from a not particularly liked supplement that got pumped out during the TSR Money Issues era. So for now, it's just The Depths. G1-3 were highly enclosed dungeons, D1 is a wilderness hexcrawl situation. Which is kinda strange, since like the G series, the D series was a tournament module. The answer to this conundrum, is that it isn't a conundrum, because only D2-D3 were used at GenCon XI, as well as an alternate Q1 that never was. Shame! The Lolth egg raid sounds cool.

A big hexcrawl, in fact! It's almost weird to me that D1 is the middle of a sequence at such a high level, rather than the beginning of a sequence at a low level, simply because there's so much stuff? Hexcrawls aren't my jam (admittedly I've only played in one ever, but I have Forever GM syndrome very hard so maybe one day that'll be fixed…) so it's hard to not see something this huge and go "wow this must be totally overwhelming to run". But we will press on dauntlessly!

We get some guidance on how to run this, including to really sell the "spooky cave" vibes. Gary is one again strangely invested in the importance of caving itself, but here it feels a bit more appropriate than it did in G2. Happily, shockingly, excellently: there IS a way to secure the Drow's favor from the word jump! Wiping out the Mind Flayer camp will have a, not 100% but extremely high chance of the drow FINALLY leaving you alone. Yay! And included in the module are some bonus cave battlemaps in case you need to random encounter in a cave. Also yay! Actually, in general in this introductory section Gary is generally sending out good game design vibes, going to great trouble to mention "if they're being careful, don't fuck them over" and "just straight up tell them you can't teleport very far down here" and "make sure you tidy up this framework into a real adventure". All very good signs!

The artwork is, broadly, much cooler than it has been up to this point. Which is good, because we're getting a whole lot of random tables here. They do a nice thing in this section, where they give 'purposes' to a lot of the random encounters, not full-on spark tables but at least knowing that the ghouls serve the drow is a very handy "why are they here?" to know.

The adventure lightly, reasonably, railroads you into your first encounter -- a checkpoint. It's a pretty rote fight, there are two factions but they can't really be posed against one another in any obvious way. The sub boss has a faerie fire grenade, and the big boss has a cloak that lets you turn into a lurker to fly away in a pinch. It's lightly teased that they worship Lolth here. But otherwise it's mostly just "welcome to the underdark motherfucker!"

There's a brief illithid encounter, which is likewise rote. Chop em' up and move on.

Finally, you have your dungeon-dungeon, which is a trog warren. It's mostly just Some Drow and Some Trogs, and it almost feels obligatory? It's got that "bunch of random caves" vibe that I do not like in dungeons. B1 and 2 will both end up doing this. But among the funny things is:

The first appearance of a death lance (drains d4 levels) on some bad motherufcker drow fighter lady

The medal you can negotiate from the drow can also just be looted

A lich is just, kind of taking a nap. the cheeky little fucker has put a magic mouth on basically everything everywhere, so you're flooded with magic aura if you think you're going to see shit coming. He's got some really neat shit, like a portable hole, but unfortunately his non-magic valuables are extremely cursed. Figures.

Sometimes I forget that ghouls and ghasts are sentient and intelligent, since I have had it so trained in my mind that ghouls are essentially smart zombies rather than people in any meaningful sense, but not so in ADND land! These ghouls are trying to ditch the drow they serve, which, understandable.

Thing I only learned now: ADND had many, many sphinxes. Andro (big tough and good), crio (smaller, dumber), gyno (smaller, a little meaner, classical sphinx behaviors including riddles), and hieraco (evil, vicious, and animalbrained). Ours here is the hieracosphinx, which is a pet of some drow lady.

Hopefully we can agree that old timey bugbears were silly little guys. I don't buy that they're evil, they're too silly! And yawn the usual lady monster / child monster dilemma is here, how droll. Your party picked a side 30 sessions ago and now it's just procedural.

Apparently the dark elves and trogdolytes practice mutual aid with one another, though Gary specifies it's coercive so not like that put your flag down. I do think it'd be pretty funny to reveal that the trogs are Actually Really Good and have a lot to teach others about societal organization. There's not really much to say about it as-written, it's just more of that mothers/child dilemma tripe.

At the end, an actually cute little trick that I cannot fathom the party ever working out without the Drow Merchant just straight telling them: There is a room with a magical pool in it. The pool is surrounded by a ton of small gem, which if removed, magically reduce any nearby gems in size and value. But, if you toss gems into the pool, they increase in size and value. Neat! Infinite money machine!

The adventure ends with the unveiling of a new monster-people: the Jermlaine, which are basically just mean little guys who sneak around and cause trouble. Not really a threat, just extremely annoying. Your guys will wanna chop them up for being assholes, but really they're just like the most petty guy at your job. It's a weird addition, but not unwelcome. On the whole, D1 is some lovely and mildly ambitious connective tissue bridging the D series together, and I'm actually kind of fond of it now. Maybe my players will visit The Depths soon…

The adventure ends on an illustration of ya bois taking care of some trolls and shit. Thanks Dave!

[aria-ashryver]

yooooo im SO tired, have a health update 💞

(which was going to be another video update but then a bird came and i got distracted and now im too tired to speak lol. also WOW imagine being so pale you create your own god rays slkdjf)

so, ive been feeling like hot garbage for some time, which is perhaps not surprising with the whole "was poisoned via chemo for a year, is still recovering" thing. Recently my heart has been feeling Not Good TM, and the fatigue waves are getting pretty extreme at times.

So, I followed this up with my doctor, very much expecting it to be a case of "no you're just out of shape / your asthma is playing up / you're just being super lazy, try harder, etc". He booked me a specialised heart test which I had last week.

Uhhh apparently I wasn't just being pathetic! (Which is somewhat gratifying to know that there is a reason things have been so hard lately and it's not just in my head)

There is a thing called your Ejection Fraction, which is essentially a measure of how much oxygenated blood your heart is pumping around your body -- its the factor that keeps you feeling energised.

Mine has dropped. Fairly significantly. When I had the same heart scan in October, mid-way through chemo, I was still retaining a lot of my heart health and muscle mass from when i was pre-chemo, so my EF was sitting at about 80. Which is a sign I was initially quite physically fit (or, to quote my oncologist: "giiiiirl, you a Boston Marathon runner or what?)

Since my last scan, my EF has dropped to 58. Which is still actually higher than average, most people sit at about 55, so I've dropped to an average range lol.

My heart is working, but such a significant jump is still cause for concern. My oncologist said that if I had been less young and fit, it would have been a case of dropping from 55 to somewhere in the 30s, to which he said "you'd struggle to even walk down that corridor at that point."

At this stage, I have a (hopefully reversible!) cardiomyopathy. Unfortunately, reduced heart and lung function can be complications of the two immune therapy drugs I am taking to prevent my cancer from coming back. So the current course of action is to put my immune therapy treatments on hold for 9 weeks to let my heart recover.

Yes, that is a tad spooky, but the drugs have a very long half-life, so I should be okay not taking them for that short period. On the plus side, this should hopefully improve my overall quality of life while my heart heals, and a break from immune therapy will be really nice anyway, because that shit hurts lmao.

Otherwise, the metastatic cancer in my spine and my hips remains stable and is still showing signs of healing because I am AWESOME AND COOL. Oh, and I also had a massive internal lesion (a chemo complication I never mentioned here bc like... if I told you guys every little thing that's wrong with me, we'd be here all day lmao) but that is now healing on its own too!! Woo!

So... ye. Gonna have a nap, knowing that medically my heart is broken and I have yet another reason to take it easy now haha.

Send me lots of "oi don't get cancer again in the next 9 weeks you absolute nugget" type vibes. I don't think I will, I'm not worried, but yk yk vibes are nice 🥰💝💖💓💕🩷💞 if you are still reading, I hope you have a wonderful day!!!

[your-dandy-king]

Helene's scream tears Bessières out of sound sleep. It's only takes a split second for him to find the hilt of his sabre he keeps next to the bed (and has been doing so ever since the demonic Marmont showed up, and some idiot anonymous letter sender had attempted to steal Helene away).

He had been dreaming of flying: unseen, unsubstantial, formless, genderless. He'd known it was a dream, for he hadn't even begun to master something that seemed so basic. In his dream, he had been racing a flock of geese, the world beneath them a patchwork of emerald green forests and turquoise lakes hidden between jagged snow-covered mountain peaks.

In his dream, the sky had darkened abruptly. The geese called to each other in alarm. Bessières had reached out with his senses, curious as to what was happening only to find there was another.

No, not another like him. This other was responsible for the darkening sky and the rising wind that Bessières found himself unable to push back against. The geese were scattered and lost in the gale. Golden tendrils lashed out at him out of darkness --

-- a thread of his essence unfurls and pulls away --

And Helene screams.

His hand grasps the hilt of his sabre, and with a simple visualization of her bedroom -- pop! -- and he is there.

He snaps on the electric lamp, and its glow light illuminates Helene's room. "Papa! Papa!" she wails, reaching for him, her face tracked with tears. "Papa!"

A quick scan of her room shows there's no lurking enemies, and she watches as he checks her closet and under her bed. "No one's here, my sweet. You must have scared them away, hmm?" He hugs her and tickles her tummy.

She sniffles and hiccups. "I saw a man!"

"Oh, did you? He's not here now, is he? Papa will chase him away if he is."

"Uncle Joachim was there and Daddy and there was a man with wings! He was on fire!"

She begins to calm as he whispers soothingly to her, holding her tight and stroking her back. "It was just a bad dream, sweetie. There's no man with wings on fire here, and your uncle and Daddy can take care of themselves."

Out of the corner of his eye, the shadows seem to shift, even nod along to his words. Maybe he's just tired. It's the middle of the night after all.

"Can I stay with you, Papa?" Helene asks.

Bessières sighs, smiling, and kisses the top of her head. "Of course you can."

"Can Ombré come too?" Ombré is the name of her new imaginary friend who'd popped up recently. Such an imaginative little one, his daughter.

"Of course Ombré can come, my sweet."

Helene grabs her blanket and her Kirby plushie and with her hand in his, follows him to the bedroom he normally shares with Duroc when he's home. He doesn't mind indulging her by letting her sleep in next to him if it makes her feel better after a bad dream.

Geraud, Joachim, come home safe and sound and soon.

The bed, however ....

Helene's face lights up, her fears forgotten. "Wow! Papa! Am I gonna get a baby brother or sister now? Can I have both?"

Uh, yeah, that sort of explains why he's felt like hot garbage these last few weeks. The iridescent pearl-like shell sparkles in the low light.

Oh my god, not another one.

Helene claps her little hands and cheers.

[worstvideogamesong-poll]

Worst Video Game Song Tournament - Round 2 Match 17

Crown Dungeon - The Legend of Zelda: Oracle of Ages

VERSUS

Dungeon Man - Earthbound

FIGHT!

I would recommend listening to as much as you can of each song before voting, but how you choose is up to you! Remember to be civil in the tags and replies!

Propaganda under cut:

Crown Dungeon:

"Oracle of Ages has some of the best dungeon themes imo. This isn't one of them."

"#Crown Dungeon my GOD #Great dungeon with great puzzles but you have to power through some HOT GARBAGE #Seasons had the better music tbh"

"#whats with all the bad video game songs with dungeon in the name #all two of them" (dearest tumblr user charmy-2000 you are gonna love this poll)

"#omg i forgot how bad crown dungeon is #its sounds like how a migraine feels"

Dungeon Man:

"It's actually so bad, it's good bc it's bad on purpose in context lol"

"#GO EARTHBOUND PENIS MUSIC GO"

"#wow i hate dungeon man #thanks for messing up my fucking brain#that shit makes me anxious #almost on the same level as venetian strings #which is an actual song that i hate because it scares me so much"

Feel free to add more propaganda in the tags and replies, or send it to me in the ask box and I'll try to share it as soon as I can!

[dufrau]

For the ask game: 9 and 36 and my question for 36 is: what is your favorite movie? (I have to ask, if I don't ask... you don't wanna know)

9. What do you consider your biggest accomplishment?

Oh wow. I guess, just... building a life I am happy with. Obviously a lot of that is luck, let's be real. But, surrounding myself with the kind of people i want to get old with. Finding work that is fulfilling to me, and hobbies that keep me interested. Building sturdy boundaries and having people respect them. I don't know. It's not really one thing. But it feels big when I think about being young and not knowing what my life would look like. It feels like a huge accomplishment.

Bonus: What is my favorite movie?

The silly answer that is also probably the real answer is this terrible horror movie from the 90s called either Spectre or House of the Damned depending where you're looking for it, starring Alexandra Paul from Baywatch. It's incredibly bad in so many wonderful ways. I first saw it in high school when me and my friends used to just go to Blockbuster and rent random shit we had never heard of, and we still quote this movie to each other some 20+ years later.

Actual good movies though? I really love Alien. I think it's a perfect movie. Silence of the Lambs, obviously some aspects of it have aged like hot garbage but it's still such a good movie. Tommy Boy is very stupid but I will watch it any time any place. I'm also weirdly into Gangs of New York even though its not an amazing movie, but for some reason when I'm sick I love to watch it???

(questions)

[grape-rpsources]

Clone High S3

‘ Believe me, this schtick’s gonna get old fast. ‘

‘ Look at that moron, clutching his timeless satchel. ‘

‘ Wow, you’re the first woman to ever fail upwards, congratulations. ‘

‘ Books are sort of famously a bad thing to burn. ‘

‘ I’m staring directly at the sun and it doesn’t hurt, it’s just beautiful. ‘

‘ I will say this: I ate magnets and I’m feeling fine. ‘

‘ How do you feel about the smell and taste of chlorine? ‘

‘ Every girl wants a Gila monster these days. ‘

‘ My god, you look like shit! But, Hell, I thought you were dead so congratulations. ‘

‘ Let’s just say you aren’t a total flaming garbage dump and leave it at that. ‘

‘ I mean, I want to say no but, like, I physically can’t. ‘

‘ Maybe a person can get over a betrayal. ‘

‘ This is a classic “talk to the hand” situation. ‘

‘ I would be honored to be your friend that you’re too embarrassed to admit you’re friends with to your other friends. ‘

‘ Woah, these ladies know what they like and it sure isn’t me. ‘

‘ To be a fly on the wall of your brain, you slut! ‘

‘ Everyone knows when you do a good deed it erases a bad one. ‘

‘ Every relationship has its ups and downs. Also it’s side-to-sides. ‘

‘ It’s like that saying, “cheater, cheater, pumpkin fucker”. ‘

‘ Nice try, you crafty little bitch. ‘

‘ You threw this party and now we’re all gonna die in here. ‘

‘ I’m a feminist, I can’t die in a kitchen! ‘

‘ You don’t need to act a certain way to try and live up to everybody’s expectations. You just need to be [NAME]. ‘

‘ Sorry, some people say my laugh is a little manic and pixie-like. ‘

‘ I see you like water, huh? ‘

‘ I mean, it’s not great. ‘

‘ I just wanna get back to my cool, indie girl roots where I don’t even care if I have friends. ‘

‘ Take me somewhere less embarrassing. ‘

‘ Yeah right, like that could happen twice. ‘

‘ I do like hearing you say that we’re together. ‘

‘ You’re not the easiest person to disappoint, [NAME]. ‘

‘ In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re trapped in here. ‘

‘ Honestly? I didn’t think it could get worse. ‘

‘ Your hair is so freshly tousled. ‘

‘ It’s all about the angles, see, and something tells me you got more than a protractor. ‘

‘ We’re not snooping, we’re friend-making. ‘

‘ I didn’t want to come, I thought you wanted to come. ‘

‘ [NAME], you tricky slut. ‘

‘ Cemetery sex is very normal. ‘

‘ Grave-robbing is a young man’s game. ‘

‘ You smell like a Dave and Buster’s. ‘

‘ And this is legal? ‘

‘ Seriously though, leave a like ‘cause I’ll know if you didn’t. ‘

‘ So you wanna change the way I look and the way I talk? ‘

‘ Well, someone needs to put two dollars in the swear jar for that, and it’s not gonna be me. ‘

‘ I think I’m getting raided by the feds, can I come over and put some stuff in your toilets, please. ‘

‘ Time to rent a speedboat. ‘

‘ What was that? I heard a rustle. ‘

‘ Oh relax, I call everyone my love. ‘

‘ I'm fine with it. Probably more fine with it than you. ‘

' I’m not like you, I can’t just sit back and take whatever life gives me. ‘

‘ I have abs, but I’m not wise at all. ‘

‘ Okay, I get it, you’re a monster. ‘

‘ Oh my god, that’s so vague yet specific and terrifying. ‘

‘ Now I’m surrounded by so many hot people I barely feel objectified at all. ‘

‘ Once this is resolved we’ll have a grand total of zero problems. ‘